Archive | March, 2012

Things every parent has done at least once that you will never admit to anyone.

19 Mar

• Let your child eat off the floor. You’re at Panera Bread, your kid drops his gigantic chocolate chip cookie and before you can say “yuck,” he is gnawing on it again. You look around; no one saw you. You make a mental note to watch for hives and fungal infections over the next 48 hours.
• Forcing sleep Part 1: the swilling nurser. Your breastfeeding baby has been AWFULLY cranky the past few evenings—oops, was that your second glass of wine or your third? Oh well, no matter, its mostly metabolized, time for bed!
• Let your child go more than 3 days without bathing. Life gets in the way. Its 30 minutes past bedtime, and you have to get up for an early meeting the next day. A wet washcloth with some hand soap will have to do for now. They stink all the time anyway, right, what’s one more day?  Its not like they’re trying to impress anyone.
• Laughed when they cried: You’re usually not a cruel person. You love to see your child happy. But today you have been hit in the face 9 times, kicked in the groin, had your home cooked meal spit out, been told ‘no’ ad nauseam and now your child has the audacity to ask you for a snack before dinner? You say no, the tantrum begins; the tears start to flow and deep down you’re thinking “Now you know how I feel, buddy. Sucks doesn’t it?”
• Forcing sleep Part 2: the ‘extra long’ case of hives. Hell, I’ll cop to this one. Beatrice had an awful case of the hives last fall. The doctor said Benadryl every 6 hours until the hives were gone for 48 hours. We all slept fabulously that week. But when the hives started to disappear, hmmm, well let’s just say I was being EXTRA cautious to make sure they were gone for good. “Bob, don’t you think that looks like an itchy spot? We don’t want the hives to come back, do we? Its 7 pm, she needs some Benadryl.” Time for bed!
• Cheetos for dinner. Or cookies, or French fries, or cake. Cheetos is a metaphor for “I haven’t had time to go to the grocery store, husband is coming home late tonight, I have laundry to finish, the kids are at their wits end and I think they had broccoli two days ago.” Sometimes, you have to make trade offs for your sanity.

Bob on Surgery (also known as Bob on lady parts)

16 Mar

Bob and I are visiting his parents this weekend.

I should give a little background for this one.  My mother-in-law had a bout with breast cancer about 5 years ago.  One of my best friends is going through the same thing.  My MIL just had knee surgery.

So, while sitting at the breakfast table, Bob, my mother and father-in-law and I were chatting.  My MIL inquired about my friend and her progress.  I lamented that, depending on the results of some genetic studies, she may have to eventually have a hysterectomy.

MIL: Yeah, but after all she’s been through, it won’t be so bad.  The surgery itself for me was an easy recovery.

Me: That’s good.

MIL: They will just go in laparoscopically, you know, like they did with my knee.  Three little incisions.

Bob (Looks up from the paper): What… they go in through your knee for that?

Everyone: NO!

Baby Making Rooms

13 Mar

I haven’t blogged in a while about my fertility journey.  I was recently recalling some of the things I encountered while going through it, and while a lot of it was painful (and a pain in the ass), some of it was humorous.

One of the funny things about infertility is just how, for lack of a better term, OUT THERE all of your business becomes! Literally and figuratively! Things that normally would not be spoken about under any circumstances suddenly become coffee talk.

“Oh, so did you have sex on the 14th day of your cycle this month? Any luck?”
“So, why can’t you get pregnant? Is something wrong with your plumbing or your husband’s?”
“Wow, how much does that COST?”

Yeah. Seriously.

The other side of the fertility coin is the one experienced by the man. Once you get past the less invasive treatments (namely drugs), you must enter the world of petri dishes, washing of sperm and questions like “will they fall out if I sit up too fast?”

At our clinic, there was a separate door (a back door wouldn’t you know) to the room where the man makes his ‘deposit.’ The Baby Making Room. Bob described it as the most unsexy room you can ever imagine, with porn of every type (Black, White, Asian, chubby…? They got em all).  And, of course, there was a VHS machine.  What other ways could they make this room feel skeevy?  Linoleum of course.  Well, I guess carpet is out of the question.

So, rather than parade these poor guys past the waiting room (I mean, really, what OTHER possible reason would they be going into a fertility clinic by themselves?)  they get to arrive and leave mostly anonymously.

I was back in an exam room one time with Bob when we heard “Ding Dong.”  Sorry, did you read that right?  That was the sound of a doorbell, not a penis joke.   Bob looked up and said “Ooh, someone’s going into the ‘room,'” I started cracking up. “You mean, the baby making room?”   Bob confirmed that this was indeed the room in question.

The doorbell sound was nothing that could be heard from inside the waiting room, or even in one of the phlebotomy cubes.  I had never heard it before in all of my time going to the clinic.  And now I felt sorry for the poor guy on the other side of the door  for some reason.  I couldn’t see him obviously, but what an unsubtle way to announce one’s presence, eh?

The other funny thing I remember is the Social Security patrons.  My clinic was right next door to a Social Security office in Towson.  So, once in a while an older person would walk in (having missed the large sign on the door), and whoever was at the front desk didn’t even need to pause to let them get their question out.  Again… KIND of obvious they don’t belong here, right?  “Social Security office is around the corner to the right, ma’am.”

I need to write about my next leg in the journey,   The IVF.  But if you were in my house this evening you would have witnessed a toddler possessed by the devil and an extremely exhausted Carrie.  So that will have to wait until another day!

Bob on Personal Hygeine

12 Mar

Tonight while cleaning up from dinner, Bob said “Oh I meant to clean those bottles yesterday.”
Me: Oh I thought you said said “I meant to clean my bottom yesterday.”
Bob: No… but I did run out of soap.
Me: Oookkkk……
Bob:  I had to use the Axe Body Wash instead.
Me: {silence}
Bob: Its just not the same.

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