So.............

Enough with the procrastinating already.


IUI #3 (with Clomid) worked.

Yuppers.

Ten weeks on Monday.

(Stunned? I still kinda am too.)


While I know it would be exceptionally bad taste to immediately start bitching and moaning, I believe I've earned the right to at least point out the following:

Weight lost in September...21 lbs.
Weight gained (all in the last week)...1/2 lb.


To be continued...

Conversations with the Cracker

In the backyard, next to a rapidly dying pumpkin vine:

"What kind of bugs are dose?"
"I don't know, but we're going to catch one and take it to the garden center so they can tell us."
"Are they stink bugs? Baa haa haa! Stink bugs are the funniest bugs!"
"No they're not stink bugs. Stand back! They're giving me the heebeegeebees."
"Is that the Spanish word for hiccups?"
(Racking my brain.) "No, I think...uh...hipo is?"
"You don't seem so sure."
"I'm not."
"Why?"
"Because I'm getting old."
"And forgetitful?"


On our way to the garden center, pointing out a trailer hauling something:

"Wow! I've never seen a machine like that before. What is it?"
"Uhh...uhh...I have no idea. (And it's hard to stump me these days when it comes to vehicles.) It looks a little bit like a miniature Zamboni."
"That weminds me...can we go ice fishing later today?"
"Ice fishing?"
"Sure. All you need is a saw, and some chairs, and a fishing pole, and mittens, and snacks..."


At the garden center:

"Let's see what you have."
"Is it a stink bug? Is it a stink bug?"
"Actually, it is! Amazing! You have a Horticulturist on your hands!"
"I told you so Mommy."

(No, it was because we saw stink bugs mentioned in some random book last week, probably Dr. Seuss, and he's been obsessed ever since.)

Five shopping months til Christmas

...and we're being reminded daily of what he wants from Santa.

Oh God.


The list so far:

A red wheelbarrow with blue wheels.
(Uhh...has anyone seen this particular color combo?)

A toy combine with crawler tracks, John Deere or Caterpillar brand.

Another toy motor grader, but this time smaller so as to match the scale of his other construction and farm vehicles.

A Caterpillar movie.
(But maybe I can get away with this if it's still on the list at Christmastime)

A John Deere Gator or Buck with dumper, child sized for his driving pleasure.
(My parents and I actually heavily researched this idea last year, but he was already way too tall for the less expensive 2-4 year old one.)
(And it was a very poorly made piece of crap.)
(And I prefer ride-ons where they have to work for it, not just run off batteries.)

An "actual" (his word for NOT A TOY) excavator with crawler tracks, also John Deere or Caterpillar brand.
(So he can help us finish the back yard.)

A pink dump truck for Baby Elephant, because she's a girl.
(BE has replaced Not Bob as best bed friend.)

A John Deere Gator for J, so he'll help Mommy in the yard.
(No comment.)


At least he's finally stopped asking for a dog.

Question: What are you doing with with your shoe in your mouth?

Answer: We're playing dogs.

NEW! Yesterday's Random Parenting Related Cleaning Challenge

Blood. Lots of blood.

It had been quiet for two hours. We both thought he was napping.

What he was actually doing was taking off a lampshade, unscrewing the light blub, breaking it, and playing with the broken glass.

We are fantastic parents.

J freaked. I didn't. J was so bummed out by my reaction that he insisted we take pictures so we could freak out my mother.

I am so seasoned. Bring it on.

Yesterday's Random Parenting Related Cleaning Challenge

The Cracker snuck some bright aqua blue streamers into his bed and then peed on them.

He has white sheets.

So far I have tried: Biz. Spray 'n Wash. Clorox Bleach Pen...twice. Straight bleach.

Two of our three cats gacked up some of the same streamers. Luckily, I caught it right away and the carpet was saved.

I think I give up.

(Which will leave me with some time to try, again, to get more than a half dozen little purple spots of jelly bean drool out of the carpet without cutting.)

(Click.)

"Nana? Can I call you back?"

(Handy Manny was on.)

Pumpkin Update 2007

In case you missed it, last year I made a complete ass of myself.


The facts so far:
1. They are not honeydew. Of this I am certain.
2. Last winter I placed a pumpkin to rot in this exact location.

Hmmm...

My Little Man

"Hey Mommy? While you were wabering the gahden I made a pee and a poop. And I'm not going to use my bafhwoom anymore. I'm going to use yours, because it's weally closer to the TV."

Soccer, Week 5

Coach: Okay Tigers, we're going to try playing a game today.
Cracker: Oh goodie! What kind of game?

Quick & Dirty IUI #1 Update

We did our first IUI two weeks ago today. Everything looked great...1 good sized egg *just* about to release, good lining, and a fantastic washed sample from J.

This morning, before I could go in for my beta, AF showed. Making plans now for IUI #2 in July.

I can still add the beta to the blood tests that I am having done tomorrow, but for now I've decided not to go in as scheduled. I called my RE and he said it was fine since we'll continue with at least one more unmedicated cycle before trying meds. My parents are arriving from California this afternoon for a visit so it's actually nice to have something to cross of my list for today.

While I've been through every possible emotion the last few weeks, I am not devastated by the news. I never expected this to work the first or even second month...I'm thinking long term. And honestly, it feels good to be out of limbo.

Bring on the margaritas!

I Hereby Ban Handy Manny

Me: What are you doing?
Him: Measuring your tushie. It's ten inches thousand.

Oh for Fucks Sake**

A MEDICAL INSURANCE BULLSHIT VENT

This week we got a bill and an insurance statement for IF related blood tests that the useless OB wannabe RE sent me for January 2nd. Insurance was billed May 14th.

Insurance is paying nothing. We are being told to pay $95.02 (full charge $253) after insurance discount, which will be applied to our deductible.

Deductible? For blood tests? (We have copays and coinsurance, neither of which is what they are asking for.)

Here's the gist:

The blood tests were ordered as part of a routine medical exam by an in-network doctor. (Routine = nonemergent, I asked.) Blood tests in this case, these exact tests, are covered 100%, no deductible, no copay, no coinsurance if you go (in-network) to an "independent lab" not located inside the doctor's office. The lab I was sent to was "independent" and "in-network" located in an adjacent building in the same medical complex and is privately owned. We will call them ABC Labs. They also have additional locations all over town.*

But the won't cover it. They say we have a $100 deductible, and once that has been met, they will cover 80%.

Insurance agrees that the tests would have been covered 100% if we had been to an "independent" lab. They agree that ABC Lab is "independent" and "in-network" but a different kind of "independent" yet still in-network. The difference? They can't explain other than to say it would have been covered if I'd been to any other independent lab, which includes *other ABC Labs around town.

J went to an ABC Lab, different location, for his SA because it was closer to work. It was covered at 100%.

"Are ABC Labs a franchise? Is that the problem?"
"What's a franchise?"

"Okay, so I will be having more blood work done this week as part of an IF workup. I want to make sure I go to the place that will cost me the least out-of-pocket in the long run."
"Of course! Will it be part of a routine medical exam?"
"I'm seeing an RE. These tests are being done for IF reasons. It's nonemergent. You tell me."
"I'm afraid I can't answer that."
"May I speak to a supervisor?"
"I am a supervisor."
"Can I speak to your supervisor?"
"I don't have one."

It's not the money, it's the ridiculousness.

But really, why should I be surprised? Last week I was on the phone with our insurance company numerous times trying to find out who is a "preferred vendor" for IF meds down the road. Because while they agree they will cover IF meds if we use the correct vendor until we reach (a very piddly might cover an IUI or two unmedicated) lifetime IF max, they can't tell us who. And just so we're clear, by "preferred vendor" we're talking about a mail order drug supplier, so it doesn't have to be a local pharmacy because local pharmacies don't carry IF meds.

And so I say again, oh for fucks sake.


**After posting this I came across another IF blogger who had used this same title last week. Crap. It wasn't intentional, but probably in my head. Sadly, it's not the first time I've gone to write something and found that some one else in a small circle of bloggers had already covered it. So much for my having original thoughts...

3 Doors Down

Over the weekend I was visiting with my friend C at her house just down the street and having a grand old time. After a few hours I finally got up the courage to ask if her 13 year old son might be available to watch the Cracker during our IUI even though we won't be able to give him much notice. Her hubby is a Paramedic and she does medical billing from home, which some how made it seem easier.

"I'll do it! I'll watch him!"

Turns out they are waiting to see the same RE. Imagine that.

We were both so thrilled to have someone to talk to that we spent the next few hours discussing everything. Her husband, P, was sitting with us and listening, but only came into the conversation a couple of times to ask things like "so have you ever made J do it while you still had the thermometer in your mouth?"

"Want to see something funny?"
"Always."
She looks P in the eyes and slowly says "cer-vi-cal mu-cus."
He instantly paled. "Oh God! You have to stop doing that! Ugh...yuck!"
"That's a neat trick!"
"You two are like the women on Sex and the City, except you talk about ovulating and gardening."

Captain Underpants

The other day I noticed that the Cracker had changed his underpants. There were two obvious signs:

1. They were on backwards, which happens a good 50% of the time these days, and
2. Instead of white with little airplanes he was now sporting solid red.

"Why did you change your underpants?"
"Ummm...ummm...ummm...they had water on them?"
"Uh huh. Where are they?"
"I hid them."
"Where?"
"In my woom."
"Where in your room?"
"Under the wocking chair. You know, the blue one?"
"Can you get them for me?"
"Sure!"
I follow him as he scampers off happy as can be. He lays down on the floor in front of the chair, takes a quick peek, and then gropes blindly. Voilà one pair of dinosaur underpants.
"Uh, these aren't the ones I was talking about. This morning you had on airplane underpants."
"Huh."
"Where are the ones with airplanes?"
"Lemme just think for a moment, okay? Hmmm...hmmm... I know! I hid them too!"
Behind his bed.

When the Cracker finishes peeing he always drips. First drips come approximately 10-15 seconds after the stop of flow, second set a good 30 seconds later, and then finally the third and final set no less than another 30 seconds later. J has tried to teach him to "shake it off" and the Ped says it's probably from being uncircumcised. Whatever the case, the Cracker is suddenly far too excited to get back to what he was doing before his potty break to wait for that third final set of drips.

Over the weekend he changed his drippy pee underwear 17 times. He's so good about taking care of business on his own now that we don't even think about the fact that he's slipped away until we hear a flush, at which point it's too late.

After everything we went through with PTing, DPU doesn't send me into a frenzy like it would have 2 years ago, and I'm *thrilled* that he finally prefers clean drawers when not all that long ago he was perfectly happy to sit in poop all day long.

As my Dad points out, at least he's not ashamed to tell me where they are. That is good. I'll point out that I'm glad while he's smart enough to hide them, he's not smart enough to realize how ratting himself out negates the whole point of hiding them in the first place.

Lots of positives here.

Warp Speed

Yesterday, bright and early, we had our first visit with the RE.

After discussing all of our test results and history, his main concern was viscosity just as it had been with useless OB wanna be RE. While he agreed that morphology and motility are low, he told us that he wasn't concerned since the overall count was good and we had gotten pregnant before. (No hamster eggs for us.) Based on the above, he suggested that he was leaning IUI and felt our chances were very good. Above average good. Cool. He did ask that I repeat the CD #2-3 tests (FSH and friends) since those test results seem to have disappeared from the OB's office. I will also get a chromosome analysis done at the same time to see if there are any obvious answers to my sucky m/c rate.

Woo hoo...vaginal ultrasound time. Right ovary had 7-8 follies, 3-4 on the left. (CD #5.) It was all happening so fast that while I heard him mention "a few cysts, but that's okay" it didn't register enough to ask any questions. Nor did I get any measurements on the follies, though I'm not even sure measurements this early in a cycle would mean anything anyway. As far as he could tell, my ovaries and whatever else are looking really good. (Tubes, of course, can't be seen this way, so who knows.) No signs of ageing beyond my years, which I was relieved to hear since early menstruation and early menopause run in my family.

Are you familiar with OPKs? Yes. We recommend Clear Blue because... Yes. But not the monitor. Yes. Have you charted before? Yes. Today is CD #5? Yes. What day do get a positive OPK? CD #13. Alright, let's do an IUI next week. Let's start with two or three rounds unmedicated. If that doesn't work, we'll try meds for a few months. If you still haven't conceived, then we will reevaluate.

WHAT? IUI NEXT WEEK???

Next week.

Oh, you mean, like, next cycle.

No, next week. You are set to ovulate next week, aren't you? (Flips through my chart and nods. Yes, his short term memory is intact.)

Yes...but this next week?

Yes.

Next week. I'm sorry, I'm not hearing you correctly. You said next week?

Yes.

Should we see a Urologist first?

It's up to you. We have a great one right here in town who I highly recommend who specializes in IF, but I feel confident based on your case that this is the next step.

What about repeating the SA? Shouldn't repeat the SA first?

Again, that's up to you.

What about the CD #2-3 blood tests? Should I do those first?

No. Next cycle is fine.

IUI next week.

Yes.

Ummm...do I have to?


Yes, I actually asked if I had to. Not once, not twice, but at least a half dozen times, even after he'd left us in the care of his nurse, who very nicely reminded me that their job is to get me pregnant, but that we would proceed when I was comfortable.

Because mentally I was back on long term TTC thinking. Meet him, spend a few months running more tests, wait a few months to get into the Urologist as a new patient, maybe actually decide on a plan in 3 or 4 or 6 months. Out of all the scenarios I'd been running in my head there was ever a next week one. Hell, since filling out the paperwork a few months ago when I'd been a friggin saint, I *just* started drinking a cup of caffeine most days again, just started getting lazy about taking prenatal vitamins, just started having the occasional glass of wine after the 2ww was over. The good girl crap was getting old.

False hope? Scam? No, the dude's got an excellent rep: this clinic, which he started when there were only a handful in the entire country, was one of the pioneers of IVF in the early 80s. He's been featured as one of the best by reputable sources, sources we've all heard of. His IVF rates are well above national averages. And he's local, which is just freaky, since we live where we do which is not a major city.

And I feel like an ass, because of course we're going to do it next week. Or at least we plan to unless we get there and are told we should cancel. I just needed a little bit of time to process it all. Because, seriously, suddenly there's a real plan: a plan that starts next week.

Little Love Notes

J Style

Whose vacation is it anyway?

I was awoken far too early this morning when my eyelids were forcibly opened.

"Mommy? I want to do somefing."
"It's still dark out."

And so began our first day of summer vacation.

Preschool resumes August 17th. Only 56 more weekdays to go.

If They Mated

Circa 2001, we were out at Dave & Buster's with our friends Brooke and Rusty when we came across one of those novelty takeapictureoftwopeopleandseewhattheirkidswilllooklike photo booths. All you had to do was fork over a few bucks, select your ethnicity, and smile for the camera. Rusty, as seriously funny as he is seriously Caucasian, and I should note married to a natural blonde, had to be talked out of selecting Asian.

Good times.













Really?

The laughs grew as we realized that our fake supposedly composite children resembled each other more than any of us. It was oh so not scientifically based.


A friend of mine was commenting today on her blog about how she had suddenly realized, through pictures, that her new daughter's hair is changing. I've always gotten a kick out of watching people grow up through pictures, trying to guess what they will look like as they get older, not just as children but through their adult years as well. Probably because I am an only child, I have always been especially fascinated by siblings. When anyone we know has a second child my first question if they resemble their older sibling as a baby. It's not so much the individual features that I'm interested in, but the overall picture.

Earlier this month J's sister had her second child. Our family had a great time guessing what our new niece would look like. Her son, undoubtedly is the spitting image of my ex-BIL. Taking my SIL's fair skin and striking red hair and combining it with her fiancée's dark olive skin and Cambodian roots was a combo that we just could not picture. She was only a few days when Jon's mother produced a picture of him as a newborn that you would have sworn was our new niece Emily. Freaky identical.

(I can't describe Emily except to say she's outrageously beautiful. There are a few pictures on Flickr.)

J resembles his dad, and he unquestionably resembles his sister, but she is certainly not just a male version of him. Neither of them look even related to their mother. When a long lost half-brother of theirs showed up at my FIL's door a year ago both my SIL and FIL thought it was J. "They could be twins!" Whatever...we didn't think so. But I did think he absolutely looked like my FIL. I've always been told that I look like both my parents, though I more strongly resemble my dad. Everyone agrees that the Cracker looks like my dad, but not usually like either one of us.

Confused? So am I, and I actually know all these people.


Today Jen reminded me of the time when I too realized, through a picture, that the Cracker had lost almost all of the dark brown hair he'd been born with. It was a really weird moment: you've been there nonstop but you miss the gradual change until one day it just slaps you upside the head.* We had just gotten a hiking backpack and I just had to take pictures of His Cuteness in it even though he was still far too young to actually ride in it.

*(Personally, I blame hats. I had quite a serious baby hat fetish. Trying to find a picture of his hair was way harder than it should have been.)














12 days old













6 weeks old














His hair quickly came back in: light brown at first, gradually becoming blonde.














And then there's that really neat point where they stop being infants and start being little people, and you can finally really see what they're going to look like as child. As they grow they look so much the same yet older.



















16 months

A few months ago, as I noticed that the Cracker's hair is slowly getting darker, I began to wonder what color hair he will have as an adult. I think the reason people ask about his hair is that he has the same weird almost greyish tint that mine does. (Or maybe I'm just going grey?) I suspect it will be in the brown family, and I'm really starting to lean towards thinking it will be the same as mine. (Except by then I will be grey, and we'll never get a good side by side comparison.)

Little Boys

This afternoon I came home to find the Cracker with a hammer, pliers, and every roll of Christmas/Birthday/Wedding/New Baby wrapping paper I've collected over the years spread across the living room floor.


"What are you doing?"

"Building roads."

I grabbed a vehicle, got down on all fours, and made a lame ass girly attempt at playing cars.

"Vroom, vroom."

(Shaking his head.) "No Mommy, the roads aren't done yet. Those are just the pipes."

Things You Hope Weren't Overheard

A while back we finally gave in a went to an Indian Casino buffet for dinner. It only took 4 years of everyone telling us to give it a try.

(Yum!)


As we were exiting the restaurant a Pow Wow was letting out.


"Hey Mommy! Hey Daddy! Look at all the cwowns!"

(Whispering) "Those aren't clowns, they're Native American Dancers."

"No they're not. They're cwowns! Wow! I weally like their cwown costumes!"

(Still whispering) "See all the feathers on their heads? Those are called headdresses. Clowns don't wear feathers."

"THEY'RE CWOWNS!"

(Hissing at J) "Stop laughing and walk faster!"

Touché

"Sweetie, I'm afraid that you're going to fall. Would you mind getting down?"

"I'm okay Mommy. I'm balancing. With my arms, see? And my ears too."

(Okay smartie pants, let's see how much of that you even understand.)

"Your ears, huh? How does that work? Your ears don't look like they're doing anything. They're not wiggling."

"No Mommy! The ears inside, in my head. You can't see them!"

Close enough.

Because I Had To

Dinner was ready, the Cracker was napping, and I had a good 4 hours to kill before the Grey's season finale.

(I've been reading on the net that there's going to be a lot of sex tonight. GA is my porn, so they better not be lying.)

I was checking in over at Wannabe Hippie when I found Elaine's post about becoming a bone marrow donor.

OMG...I have to do that.

Okay, really my first instinct was more along the lines of "I want to do that but it's a little bit scary." But being a sucker for sick kids and being a mother myself, it quickly turned into "I have to do that." Because if I am ever contacted it will be for a damn good reason.


I called J and asked if he had any objections, since if I did ever match he would have to deal with me. And take care of the Cracker. Of course it helps that he's totally used to these random kinds of phone calls at work.

So I did it. Already signed up, just waiting for my cheek swab kit which should arrive in 2-3 weeks.


Starting in 2007 (yes, New Year's Resolution, ugh, along with never ever again taking a bag at any store, which another post I'll probably never write) I promised myself that when a good opportunity arose I would stop hesitating and start acting. This is way cooler than donating 11 inches of hair to Locks of Love which was what I finally did two months ago after years of thinking someday. (Yuppers, chopped it short, from elbow length to above the neck, and no, I'm not sharing pics at the moment because the dude made my bangs too heavy when I wasn't even supposed to have bangs and I'm already trying to grow it out again.)

So anyway, it's something to think about. During the Thanks Mom Marrow Donor Drive they are waiving the $52 registration fee.

Oh the Horror!

Want to incite a riot? Let your 2 year old have a pacifier. Even sweet little old ladies will try to kick your ass.

BTDT.


When you're a first time parent, and then you don't have a second child in the socially acceptable amount of time, the number of crazy things with your firstborn that you most likely wouldn't do again the next go 'round increases exponentially. I'm an only child myself, so I get it.

Guilty.

(And let me just take this opportunity to thank all the people over the years who've told me that for an only I am not a freak like the all the rest. Yeah...uh...thanks.)

Here's to hoping the damage isn't permanent.


So here are a few admissions (and justifications):

At 4 years, 1 month and 2 weeks he still eats Yo Baby because he claims to hate all other yogurt. (He can't drink cow's milk and always prefers water over soy milk.) (I actually blame our granola Pediatrician on this one because she insisted that we not introduce other types of milk until he stopped breastfeeding at 19 months.) (And it's not because he's drinking juice, which remains high on his list of the world's evils.)

He still takes the majority of his meals at home in his high chair. (He can't get up while eating, which makes eating faster and cleaning easier.) (And he hasn't used a high chair in a restaurant since he was 2.)

We put on all shoes that aren't slip-ons.

He still wears a diaper at night to catch the occasional accident. (Cheaper than Pull-ups and Overnights.)

He still sits happily in a stroller. (BUT it's a jogger, and we only use it because A) we like to hike and he's too heavy for the backpack and B) after 2 miles under his own steam forward progress comes to a standstill.)


Believe it or not, we have made some progress in the last year:

He now dresses himself.

We no longer let my parents spoon feed him.

Yes, you read that right. Well into 3 the Cracker would insist he couldn't feed himself when the my parents were around. And they'd happily sit there for hours after squabbling over who had won the honor the last time. Hands in his lap, all he had to do was open wide, chew and swallow. Even I admit it made me a little sick.

I like to tell myself it's not all bad. If you're on his top 10 list of favorite people he will ask to "cuddle" with you and his magic blankie no less than a dozen times a day. I like to think his future partner is going to thank me for that one.


Last week at preschool I was making chit chat with one of the teachers and a couple of parents (we have an above average number of metrosexual stay-at-home-dad's in our Co-op) when I stupidly volunteered that the Cracker had only recently moved out of his crib.

Insert the look of horror.

"You mean a toddler bed."
"No, we never converted it. And he slept so well we figured why mess with a good thing?"
"Weren't you worried he'd hurt himself climbing out in the middle of the night?"
"He never climbed out. He climbed in, but never out."

Okay, so maybe we are turning him into a freak.

I had been telling myself we'd convert the crib to a toddler bed by his 4th birthday at the latest, but we were 2 months away and had yet to make a move.

This time the universe intervened.

I was wandering through Costco with my parents when we came across my deal of the year: the last unopened nearly identical evil twin of the Pottery Barn Boat Bed on Costco clearance and priced to move for $199. Yes, the 9 foot long mostly wooden complete with trundle whose coordinating nightstand alone is $299 + shipping + tax. (Ours is the Bayside Furnishings La Jolla Boat Bed also available at Home Depot online if you dare to compare.) And while I like name brands as much as the next gal, the fact that the base price of the PBK one was 4.9967 times more than our first car I was thrilled. G'parents bought the bed as an early birthday gift and we bought the mattress.

(Trundle doubles as storage for all those kid’s clothes we hope to use again. Oh the storage!)

If you're still shaking your head let me tell you that transitioning at 46 months was a breeze compared to stories I'd heard long ago from my colleagues. "This is your big boy bed and you will stay in it until morning" totally worked. Okay, he didn't always remain horizontal, but at least when we would peek in he was always sitting on the edge swinging his legs back and forth in a criss-cross pattern talking to imaginary seahorses.

The mornings went almost as well. We had one "Daddy why aren't you wearing any underwear in bed?" and two apparently not early enough interrupted sex sessions. (Because, of course, the week he got the bed was also the week that I was ovulating.)

On the plus side, we were able to imprison him in his high chair, slap a couple of Yo Baby's down, buying ourselves 10 more minutes of uniterrupted adult time.


Next up: wiping his own ass. With toilet paper.

I think it's time to put the Little People away

(Interestingly, it's only the people, never their animal friends.)

Me: Please take the Little People out of your underwear.

Me: No you cannot go to the grocery store with Little People in your underwear.

Me: Shoving Little People down the back of your underwear is no different than putting them down the front. Please take them out.