Jen loves blogs. A lot of blogs. One blog that Jen loves is Bossy. Jen loves Bossy's sense of humor and doesn't even mind when Bossy types like this.
A long time ago Jen added Bossy to her reader. For many days Jen enjoyed her daily dose of Bossy. Then, one day there was no Bossy. There was no Bossy for many days and Jen wondered what happened. Jen checked Bossy's blog and there it was, alive and well. For some reason the feed just wasn't making it to Jen's reader.
So Jen tried again. Again, the feed showed up for a few days and then it stopped. So Jen tried yet again. Again, the feed worked for a little while then it stopped. Jen does not give up easily so she subscribed to the feed over and over and over. And over and over and over the feed would disappear.
So Jen can only conclude one thing. Bossy hates Jen and does not want her reading her blog. Jen knows Bossy will never read this but she wants to say: Jen is sorry Bossy! Whatever Jen did, she takes it back! Please let Jen continue to read you so that she doesn't miss out on your fantastic cartoons, pictures of you in various fabulous scarves and updates on your adorable
(I don't know how Bossy does it. Writing like this for just one entry sort of makes me want to knock my head against the wall.)
One year ago today Jesse failed his maxi pad buying mission.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Jen loves blogs. A lot of blogs. One blog that Jen loves is Bossy. Jen loves Bossy's sense of humor and doesn't even mind when Bossy types like this.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
First of all I want to thank everyone who left a comment on yesterday's post. Your kind and thoughtful responses remind me of what I really love about blogging. It's not all vaginas and poop stories. Sometimes it's really about reaching out for help and making a connection with people who care. And even if you didn't leave a comment, thank you for just taking the time to read. It means a lot to me. You and me man, we're like this!
Now that I've got the cheese out of the way, it's time for some sad news. I've got this really awesome key chain that I really, really love. It looks like the naked torso of a pregnant woman. It's clear plastic so you can see right through it. The belly is made of plastic ball filled with water and inside of it floats a teeny baby boy. I love this key chain.
Well, yesterday I went to start the car and I noticed something "off" about my little naked pregnant lady key chain. Her baby was missing! The ball that made up her belly had popped out. I looked and looked and looked but I couldn't find it anywhere. I suppose it could have fallen out at any time when I was running errands yesterday so now there's probably a baby ball laying in the middle of a parking lot somewhere.
My poor naked pregnant lady key chain! Before she looked so lovely. Now she's just a naked torso with a big creepy looking cavern in her stomach.
The key chain has gone from being one of my Top 20 Most Awesome Things That I Own to being one of my Top 20 Most Depressing Things To Look At. This is worse than the time I accidentally ripped the head off my Ramona Quimby paper doll.
So, if you happen to see a little baby ball rolling around could you roll it my way? My little naked pregnant lady misses it.
One more small thing. I'm going to start linking back to some of my older entries. If anything halfway interesting happened my blog on this date then then I'll direct you to it at the bottom of my posts. I won't be sad if you don't click it. (I'm too busy being sad about my naked pregnant lady key chain.)
Two years ago today I lectured you about taking Zicam while breastfeeding.
Three years ago today I showed you a picture of a massive tool.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
When it comes to school for Joseph I feel like I'm walking a fine line between coddling and facilitating. For example, Joseph's teacher realized very early into the school year that it wasn't really working for Joseph to take part in the daily group reading activity. It was too much for him, the noise the activity, the having to pay attention to what everyone else was saying. It was throwing his whole day off. The solution she came up with was to let Joseph is someone away from everyone else (like at her desk) and read his own book (often not even what the rest of the class is reading) to himself. It's a solution that works well for everyone because Joseph is already way ahead of his grade level in reading anyway and this way he's able to maintain that sense of order and control and personal space that he needs to function.
To me that is facilitating. We see his needs, look at his strengths, accept his limits and come to a solution that take all of those things into consideration. It allows him to be the best student he can be without forcing him to fit into the mold of a typical student, a role he just cannot play. Now if Joseph decided tomorrow that he wanted to go play Legos during reading time and I said ok to that then that would be coddling. I wouldn't be doing him any favors by letting him get away with less than he's able.
We had parent/teacher conferences last night and we heard the same thing we always hear. Joseph is very smart, he's a delight to have in class, the kids love him, he thrives in leadership roles and he will do pretty much anything required of him to get computer lab time. All of that was great to hear. I know what a wonderful kid he is and it's nice to hear other people say it too.
One thing about the conference bothered me though. It turns out Joseph is really struggling with cursive writing. If you've ever seen Joseph write you would know he struggles even with writing in print. Honestly, he writes like a toddler. I don't say that to mock him, it's just a matter of fact. His letters are large and floppy and sometimes backwards. To make it worse he's hard-wired himself to write certain letters in unusual ways. For example, when making a lower case "r" he makes the little arch over the top then goes back and makes the line down. A "g" is a misshapen circle with a backwards "c" beneath it. Translating those odd letter formations into a smooth, flowing way of writing is just not working for him. I honestly don't think he can do it.
And I'm wondering...... Does it matter? Does he need to learn to write cursive? Can't we just let him have his half-success at printing without making him stress about trying to master something that's beyond him? And really, who writes in cursive anymore anyway? When was the last time you used cursive for anything other than to sign your name? I don't even know if signing you name counts as cursive. Most people just sort of scribble anyway and someday Joseph can learn to do that on his own.
We have an IEP meeting coming up next month and I am very seriously considering asking that we just drop cursive writing out of his curriculum. Maybe when the rest of the class is working on cursive writing his para-professional can help him out with practicing printing. On the whole, school is such a positive experience for Joseph and I would hate for cursive writing to become a stumbling block.
So here's where I walk the line. By getting him out of cursive writing am I coddling him and making things too easy for him? Or am I facilitating a positive learning environment for him by making sure he's not facing insurmountable obstacles?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Do you text?
I have to admit that until fairly recently I never used text messaging. I thought it was something the young people did with their iphones and their ipods and their ipants sagging down to ihere. (I have my finger on the pulse of American youth.) Then one day a friend of mine sent me text out of the blue. I struggled for ten minutes to figure out how to send one back to her. She then sent me another text teasing me for how long it took me to write back and for sending her three texts that only said "how do i".
Despite that rocky start, once I tried texting I LOVED it. I became a texting addict. Jesse changed our cell phone plan to accommodate my growing love for texting. In spite of the fact that my phone is really crappy and counter-intuitive and sometimes sends stuff to the wrong people and often sends messages for no reason when I'm trying to correct something that the weird predictive text has done I still text like a weasel on crack. And you know how they are with that stuff.
I text a lot more when I'm sick. It's a good distraction from laying around feeling like my head is stuffed with cotton. I also text a lot if I've been at home doing nothing for a few days. It's a good way to connect with people who can have a conversation without using the word "boogies" in every other sentence. Jesse.
I do sometimes worry though that I text too much. I harass my family and friends who are all out being busy with their jobs and lives and significant others just so that I can tel them things like "I'm watching Semi-Homemade. Sandra Lee is insane!" and ask them things like "Don't you think mushrooms sort of taste like butt crack?" and "Hey! Why didn't you answer my last text?"
I can't help it. I love the little thrill I get when my phone makes the you've-got-a-message noise. Sure, most the time the messages I get back say things like "The hell?" and "You need a hobby" and "Stop bothering me freak" but that doesn't get me down. I just keep on plugging away, typing like there's no tomorrow. Because if I don't fill everyone in on the minutia of my daily life, who will?
So, do you text?
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Those of you not really familiar with me or my blog might now know that I suffer from Constant Hair on Fire Syndrome. CHOFS is characterized by bizarre medical conditions and symptoms that only seem to happen to me and no one else. A perfect example of the nature of CHOFS is when I was sitting on the couch watching tv and my lung collapsed. Who does that sort of thing happen to? Me.
CHOFS has struck me again.
Last night I went to bed with my right ear hurting a bit. I figured it might possibly be an ear infection, a result of The Cold That Ate My Head. I woke up at 3 AM feeling like I had been kicked in the ear. By 4 AM I was on twitter chatting with Shannon who was dealing with TWO kids with ear infections. When I whined to her about how much pain I was in she advised me to stick a blow dryer in my ear. I'm pretty sure that was intended to be helpful advice although knowing Shannon that might have just been her colorful way of telling me to get bent.
I managed to doze off around seven but was up again at eight. Now both ears hurt and I suspicious that during my brief nap someone had pummeled my face in with a shovel. Still I figured it was no biggie. I would just go into Urgent Care and they would take care of me. I mean, what's a little sinus infection on top of a double ear infection? I guess I forgot about my CHOFS.
See, I don't have an ear infection. I don't have a sinus infection. I have collapsed tubes. The tubes in my ears have CAVED IN! Of course they have. I can't take antibiotics. I just have to wait a week or two for the pressure in my head to go away so that the tubes can open back up. In the meantime I can take Suddafed because that helps some people. The doctor who saw me warned me that might cause me to be irritable. Haha. I told her I've been a real bitch for the last couple of days anyway* at least this way my face might stop hurting.
So there we are. Part of my face has collapsed and I'm somewhat crabby about the whole thing. I'm going to attempt to make myself feel better by eating a chocolate muffin (that I probably won't be able to taste) and watching some Flight of the Conchords (which will probably hurt to laugh at). Awesome.
*Seriously, if I've come in contact with you in the last 72 hours? Sorry about the attitude.
It's 4 AM and I'm up blogging. Why? Because I can't sleep. Why? Because I feel like I've been kicked in the ear by a mule. Why? Because just as I'm getting over The Cold That Ate My Head my body decided it would be super cool to get an ear infection.
Seriously body? An ear infection? What am I, four? Who gets an ear infection as an adult? Me I guess.
So now I'm sitting here counting down the minutes until Urgent Care opens. Only five more hours to go. Yippee.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
On Monday we had pork chops for dinner and we had a few left over. Since Jesse doesn't often take lunch to work with him and I have this thing about microwaved meat (it's evil and I hate it) I thought I should come up with a way to use the left-overs. I thought of chili. It's easy to make and it's relatively healthy. At least the way I make it is, with lots of beans and just a little meat. I shared my idea with Jesse.
"Jesse, I think I'm going to use the left-over pork chops to make chili." I announced.
What do you suppose Jesse's reaction was? Was it:
a) "Oh Jen!" he cried. "What a wonderful idea! You've thought of a way to provide a healthy and filling meal for your family while saving us money by utilising the ingredients we already have in the house! I have never been more in love with you than I am at this moment!" Then he swept me into his arms as the music swelled.
b) "What do you have to do that for? Those pork chops are fine just the way they are!" Then he left for work without saying goodbye.
I won't tell you what the answer is but I will say this: Do NOT come between Jesse and his meat.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
I am still attempting to recover from The Cold That Ate My Head. It's a slow process. I'm still coughing and hacking but now I'm thisclose to being able to breath through my nose. I chalk that up to my recent victory over my neti pot.
A couple of days ago I was rooting around in the medicine cabinet for something to make me feel better and what did I spy? My neti pot. "Hey!" I thought. "This will make me feel better!" How quickly we forget.
Here's the thing though, I actually managed to use the danged thing with some success this time. "Some" being the key word here. I mean, yes, most of the water still ran down the back of my throat and yes, I still nearly drowned and yes, when it was all done I felt like I had tried to inhale the Atlantic ocean but there was still some success. I managed to get a stream of water going in one nostril and trickling out the other! Kind of! At least it sort of dripped out the other nostril. Hey, it's better than I've ever been able to do before. I count it as a victory.
Now I just need to lose the crusty, bleary eyes, the red chapped nose, the dry cracked lips and the the pale, sallow skin and I'll be back to being my regular hot self.
Oh, and the best news of all! The Cold That Ate My Head came with a nice case of .... Oh, how can I put this delicately? Raging, churning, gaseous diarrhea so I've manged to lose five pounds in the last week. Oh yeah. I'm looking super cute now.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Warning! This blog deals with my sex life and therefor should not be read by anyone. Ever. Seriously. You've been warned.
I need to stop going to sex toy parties. They're turning out to be bad for my health.
I went to my first "toy" party a just a short time ago. I ordered something for myself. (Don't worry, I'll spare you the details.) My stuff came in the mail and not three seconds later I was struck down by a gallbladder attack. Intense abdominal pain and vomiting does not exactly put you in the mood.
I recovered from my gallbladder surgery just in time for my second party. This time I ordered something special for Jesse and I to enjoy on Valentine's Day. (Again, I will spare you the details.) The stuff came in the mail but Jesse and I haven't even been able to enjoy it because we've both been struck with this chest cold/stomach flu from hell. We're so sick that we're barely able summon up the energy to turn and look at each other much less drag our sick clunky bodies close enough together to do the deed.
I've been invited to another party but I'm honestly a little scared to go. What if I attend and three days later my left leg falls off? Or what if my stuff comes in the mail and as I'm bringing it into the house I'm bit by a rabid dog? Do I dare tempt fate? What if this third party is the one that kills me? I don't want to my final words to be "I never even got a chance to use my new ........"
So what should I do? Go or skip it? And if you leave me a comment answering this question I'll know you're a dirty bird who read this post even though I told you not to.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
There are moments in parenting that nothing can prepare you for.
The moment your eight year old son walks past you in the hallway swinging his hips, pouting his lips and throatily singing "Santa Baby" is one of them.
"Santa baby, so huuurry down the chimney tooooniiiight....."
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
A real conversation with Jesse:
Me: I wish I had more friends.
Jesse: You just need to find a group of people who have the same interests as you.
Me: ......... I wish I had more interests.
Poor Jesse. Whenever I'm feeling lonely he has to try and do his best to prop me up and make me feel better. It's not that I want to be a big sad sack, it's that I don't know what else to do.
How do you make friends when you're an adult? I know it's pathetic that I'm even asking that but I'm serious. I don't work. I didn't go to school here so I can't call up old school friends. I'm horribly shy. I have a hard time doing new things unless I'm with someone I already know and that kind works against the purpose of meeting new people. My previous attempts at meeting people with similar interests and similar lives have been less than successful.
It's not like I have no friends at all. I have a few and I value them very much but I guess I just wish I had more. I wish my evenings had more "I think I'll call up soandso and see if they want to blah blah blah whatever it is people do together" and less "I think I'll see if my brother's on Facebook tonight."
So come on interent people, sitting there in your bathrobe with the Cheetos stain on it, tell me how I make friends! Or else I will be forced to ask Jesse to spend yet another evening rubbing my feet and telling me how awesome I am.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Elle is a talker. She says a lot of things and she says them all the time. It's so fun listineing to her and hearing her launguae develop and change. She's gone from baby talk to talking like a real little person.
Mostly. There are a few left-over baby talk remnants that I'm in no hurry to say goodbye to. They're just so cute.
My favorite thing Elle says is "to-got-for". She says it instead of "forgot to". As in "Mama, you to-got-for get your purse!" Come on! That's adorable! I hope she's still saying it when she's 23.
I don't hold out much hope for that though. The other night Jesse was putting Elle to bed and I heard her say "forgot" at least a half dozen times. (We're a very forgetful folk.)
It's fun to watch all these little changes and it's exciting to see her learn and grow but I can't help but be a little sad sometimes that my baby is not a baby any more. I guess sometimes I just need little reminders to never with the days would pass any faster than they already are and to never to-got-for enjoy each day with my children and the wonderful little people that they are.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
I am home from New York. They guys were fantastic and I wanted to wrap them in puff pastry and bake them and gobble them up because that's what I do with things that I really love. Like brie.
It appears that the guys like me too because they told the case worker they would like to go forward with me. Woo hoo! I'm matched even though I never got around to getting my eyebrows waxed before we went to meet them. They like me in spite of the two large, friendly mammals that are living on my forehead.
New York is insane and I don't know how anyone lives there. The traffic is nuts, the people are nuts, the buildings are tall and nuts. It was fascinating and a great place to visit but there's no way I would want to live there. Although if you did live there then I guess you could spend a lot of time outside 30 Rock and maybe see Tina Fey and that would make it all worth it. I did not see Tina Fey while I was in New York so that was a little bit of a bummer. She could have walked right in front of me though and I wouldn't have noticed because I was too busy trying to look cool and non-touristy so that no one would approach me with some New Yorker scam and try to do something like sell me "sidewalk pass" or charge me a "breathing tax". It's hard to look cool and non-touristy though when you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring up and saying "The buildings are just so tall here! I have to take a picture!" over and over.
Anyway. Back to my main point. I am matched. The guys are great. They already have frozen embryos so there won't be any of this back and forth, waiting eight months to pick an egg donor stuff like last time. Can I get a woot?
No? You guys don't say woot? Fine. I still know you're happy for me.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Don't be sad that I'll be gone for a couple of days. I've got a little something to cheer you up. Back when no one was reading me I used this blog to mock people on Hot or Not. You can see all those posts in glorious full-color here. That should hold you over until I get back.
If I die on my trip this will be my last post. What a legacy. If I live I am totally going to do another Hot or Not post.
Monday, February 02, 2009
On Thursday Jesse and I will be going to New York to meet my new potential intended fathers (hereafter knows as the PIFs). We'll only be in New York for 24 hours or so and I intend to make the most of it. Rockefeller Plaza is a block or so away from out hotel so I'm going to walk over there first. Then I'm going to hang around outside for a bit and hope that the cast of 30 Rock notices and decides to make me their new best friend. Then I'll get some lunch. That's pretty much it.
What? I'm from a small town! I don't know how to make the most of a big city.
I'm super excited to meet the PIFs. Here's what I can tell you about them:
1. They have a dog.
2. They are smoking hot. No, seriously. It's a good thing they can't create a child together because if they did that child would be so dazzlingly beautiful that it would hurt to look at it.
3. They have a beach house.
4. Their dog is smoking hot. (I think that's because of osmosis. I hope that I'll become smoking hot by being around them too.)
5. Their beach house is not smoking hot but it is totally adorable and it has a pool.
6. They are not famous.
I only mention that last factoid because I was told I might be working with a celebrity couple this time but that didn't pan out because they only wanted a surrogate from California. That's ok. If I worked with a celebrity couple I couldn't say much about the whole thing and that would be hard for me since I like to tell everyone every little detail of my life.
In other news, I made a necklace last night. It was my first attempt at jewelry making. It took me 45 minutes and fell apart as soon as I picked it up. I am made of awesome and crafty.
In yet other news, today Joseph asked me "If poop is the grossest thing in the world, and acid is the most dangerous, would acid made of poop be the grossest most dangerous thing? And are drugs worse for you than poop acid?" Eight year old boys are the greatest.
In a final piece of news, I won some craft glue in a drawing today. (Thank you!) I think I was chosen as a winner* because when I entered I said that if I won I would use the glue to stick my children to the wall. I hope they don't hold me to that though because what I really want to do is use the glue to stick my new necklace directly to my skin. I think that will keep it from falling apart.
*I mistyped "winner" and spellcheck suggested "whiner" and "wiener" as what I meant to spell.