When you are three and a few months…
You can tell a roomful of family at a birthday dinner that you are allowed to touch your penis in your room only. Not at the table. In your mind, they all needed to know this. They will all laugh.
You will ask for apple sauce, have a tantrum about not wanting apple sauce and then eat the apple sauce all while your mother looks at you still trying to decide what to say.
You think that the red car with the smiling teeth grill is a real car from Cars. You will then proceed to tell everyone you see that you saw the real life Lightening McQueen.
You will teach your baby cousin to “say his name” even though you’ve somehow forgotten that Baby G’s real name isn’t Baby G.
You will Tebow everywhere because your daddy taught you how. Everyone will think it’s funny. Even when done at the grocery store and someone nearly runs you over. You get a pass for being three and cute.
When you are seven and a half…
You will read The Tale of Despereaux and then watch the movie and want to discuss the differences at great length. Your mother will find this amazing and tell all of your grandparents.
You will get grouchy at your mother for not managing to stay awake for this boring beyond boring of all movies on any viewing. But hey, she’ll still gladly discuss the slightly less boring book at great length with you.
You will come home each day with stories of who lost teeth today. You will yet again ask if you are the only person in the world who will forever have baby teeth. The answer of course is yes and then you’ll be in the Guinness Book of World Records for only adult with all baby teeth.
You make the Harry Potter Knight Bus out of Legos and then take it apart to do it again, at least twice a week.
You claim that every food in the world is inedible. There is rumor that you live off air and jokes. The only food you want at any given meal is either one we are just now out of or possibly one that doesn’t yet exist.
You tell better original jokes than most high paid comedians.
When you are ten…
You yell at your siblings if they even look at your perfectly built Hogwarts Lego creation. You’d never consider taking it apart. It was a one time deal that you plan on enjoying looking at forever.
You take up texting. Or more technically iMessage. You will text both of your parents non-stop. (Or what feels like non-stop to them.) Even when sitting on the couch next to them. It’s cute. In a, sort of getting old, way.
You figure out how to add a signature to your texts, which neither of your parents know how to do. You change it on a day to day basis, depending on your mood. For example, yesterdays signature was: I’d like a kitten. Texts tend to look like this: Hi! I’d like a kitten. What are you doin? I’d like a kitten. Mommy can you change the chanel? I’d like a kitten. Can I watch Idol? I’d like a kitten.
You decide to learn to bake. Muffins are your current favorite.
You will sob when your favorite skier passes away from a head injury. This was the first time a hero of yours has died and it has made you incredibly sad. It’s a first that I wish I could have protected you from. Thankfully it has not made you fear skiing.
You will one day announce that it’s high time Harrison learns to read. The fact that he just turned three and still screams each time someone makes him blow his nose makes no difference. You are going to be the one to teach him. What follows is a lot of entertaining attempts at getting him to look at the letter and word cards that you have made up. He in turn makes them into weird ramps for his cars. This will be a process.
When you are thirty one…
You will want to hug every single person on the entire Internet for their kind words this past week.
You will laugh hysterically at an ill placed hanging fairy during a procedure.
You will tell the nurse when she asks you to tell her if it’s uncomfortable, how about I tell you if it hurts…because we are way past uncomfortable now. I mean see where you are and the entire army of medical instruments up my…yeah. Stopping now. Uncomfortable. She did laugh though.
You will decide to quit coffee cold turkey. Not because you don’t love coffee, because oh you adore coffee, but because in the moment you know it’s the right thing to do. Even after the headache starts you won’t give in…because some things are more important than a cup of coffee.
You buy Girl Scout cookies from the cute six year old girl at the door on general principal. You don’t even like GS cookies, but a few boxes now reside in your cupboard.
You will finally delete the six posts sitting in draft form. If they weren’t worthy then, they surely aren’t now.
You will thank everyone who still comes and reads here 600 posts later.
7 Comments1. I am currently addicted to Lucky Charms. While there are better and worse things I could be eating as a dessert, I don’t really care right now.
2. My current app obsession is W.E.L.D.E.R. I’ve managed to turn Morgan and my mom onto it as well.
3. Right as I was leaving to get my kids last night, I heard a huge noise in my basement. In the end what happened was the hot water pipe to my hot water heater exploded. No, I really mean exploded. It shot holes through my wall. My ex husband managed to temporarily replace the pipe (with some kind of metal tube deal) so I had water last night and this morning. I have a plumber coming in a bit to actually fix it. I had to call my insurance because there is just tons of damage. There is a company coming in to do something to my carpet. Pull it up? Dry it? Not sure. Something. Let’s just say yesterday was a pretty bad day.
4. Last night I gave myself my first shot. I cried. But I did it.
5. This week has kicked my ass from here to next week. I am super freaking stressed out right now. I’m not sure I can handle anything else in the next few days.
On Friday I went and had an ultrasound. They have to look for cysts before they will give me the medication. No cysts, so that’s a good thing.
Saturday evening, I started Clomid again. On Wednesday I will start injecting a second medication into myself. I’m a little anxious about it, mostly because the injector is a pen this time. Last time I had more steps and was somehow less nervous. Maybe my nurse explained it better that time? I’ll figure it out. Luckily you can truly find videos on anything. A few nights of that shot and then I go back Saturday morning for another ultrasound. I’ve had so dang many of those it’s not even funny. Then….well I don’t know exactly. I’ve not gotten past that point yet. This is where I’ve gotten stuck both of my other attempts. So we’ll see what happens.
For both previous attempts, the Clomid made me a complete spaz. An emotional weeper. I cried at anything and everything. It was not so much fun. This time? Well so far I’m just a big giant grouch. It started yesterday afternoon and it hasn’t passed. Working today when half the country isn’t? Has made me even more grouchy. Having to send my girls to daycare and trying to work and entertain Harrison all day makes me grouchy. My boss being shocked that everything is closed makes me grouchy. The dog barking. The laundry that didn’t get done yesterday. The sound of Cars on my TV right now. Basically everything makes me grouchy.
I almost think I’d be better off with the weeping.
Anyway, I thought I’d give you a brief update.
Title completely stolen from something Stacey said to me.
I didn’t realize how hard it would be to tell my truth the other day. I’d been holding that one back for so long that it became almost a secret. It wasn’t something I wanted to be secret. It just sorta happened. In a way, telling my non-secret felt freeing. In other ways, it just made me tired. This is something so personal to me, that it’s hard to leave it out there for the world to see.
Truth, as my friend Stacey said to me last night, can be hard.
My instinct is generally to protect my heart, as it’s been broken so many times before. Yet this week, I choose to open it up and share. To tell you my dreams. To share my fears. My fear that it’s too late. My fear that my baby days are over. That my PCOS has ruined my chances. It is my greatest fear. I’m not going to give up until I try everything though. That’s just me. I’m stubborn like that.
You guys are amazing by the way. I can’t believe how many people are out there cheering me on. I just thank you, all of you.
So now you know. Now you all know and I can’t put that Jeanie back in the bottle. Not that I want too. I never wanted this to be secret. I’m not ashamed of what I’m doing. Not in any way. I’m really excited about the possibilities actually. I, for a time, let my fear of getting hurt in some way keep me from speaking. Someday I’ll get over that. I’ve come so far in the past few years. But I guess the statement that old habits die hard, is true.
I’m tired you guys. This process makes me tired. It’s an emotionally charged (hi hormone pills) process. Which is just plain tiring. Mostly I just wanted to say thank you. For accepting me as me. For being here. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate it.
Last week I contemplated deleting this blog, shutting down my Facebook account and getting rid of Twitter. Not just a passing moment, as has happened before, but for weeks I considered really doing it. I tell you this, mostly because I didn’t do it. I don’t know that I ever really would have. I just know, something has to change. I have to change. I can’t do this the way I used to anymore. I feel like I’ve just called it in the last six months on here. Looking back on previous years, I know this to be true. I have written here just to be here for at least that long.
The reason is fear.
Fear of being real. Fear of saying what I need and want to say. Fear of being judged. That’s the big one. That’s the hard one. The piece that keeps me silent when I want to talk. Frankly, I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being afraid of my own thoughts. I’m tired of being afraid to share what is really going on in my life. When it came to the point of me seriously thinking I just needed to walk away, I knew it was either man up and talk, or just fucking do it and be gone. So here goes nothing.
For a long, long time, I’ve wanted to have another baby. Logan and I were actively trying the entire year before we separated. I had a miscarriage in May, 2009 and well we never had any luck after that. It has nothing to do with why we divorced, it’s just fact. We wanted more kids and it just didn’t happen. The thing is, just becuase I got divorced, doesn’t mean I don’t want another baby. I want another baby badly.
That’s my truth. I’m actively trying to have another baby. Surprise.
I am trying to have a baby, alone. Just me. Every piece of this will be happening in a doctor’s office. Just know that.
The hard piece of this, is that it’s not easy for me to get pregnant. I have PCOS. In July I went to see a phenomenal Endocrinologist/Fertility specialist. I have some other issues, because of the PCOS. It’s complicated. Basically? I’m going to start menopause in say another year or maybe two if I’m lucky. I’m only 31 years old and this is my reality. I am not done. Every day I long for another baby. Every night I dream about a little girl. Every fiber of my being knows I’m not done. There is someone missing. However? My body is almost done. This is my last shot.
I know I could consider adoption. Yet with only one income and adopting as a single mom, it’s not feasible for me. I’ve considered becoming a foster mom. That is something I still may do, but not until my children are older.
I have given this much thought, I promise. I debated pros/cons/am I crazy’s for almost a year. I’ve decided that yes, I’m probably crazy, but that doesn’t make it wrong. I didn’t make this choice lightly. Yet it is the right choice for me.
We (my doctor and I) were shooting for October. I no longer create eggs on my own. I have a perfectly good uterus and my ovaries are fine. But I don’t create eggs. In my October cycle, we tried Clomid. Clomid makes me insane by the way. Fun times. Ahem. It wasn’t enough. I had eggs, but at some point they stopped growing. I was crushed. Completely crushed. Leave it to me to think that things would be easy.
In November, we tried Clomid and a shot that I’m forgetting the name of. Three days of me injecting myself. Not so fun, but I did it. Yet again, it wasn’t quite enough.
As hard as it was, I decided to take a break in December. With Morgan’s birthday and Christmas, I just couldn’t try again in that moment. The drugs are harsh. I needed some time to relax, some time to feel sane for a bit. I quit my antidepressants in June because of this. October and November were hard without them. The insane amounts of hormones coursing through my system, plus the lack of meds? Yeah. I was a mess for a bit.
This month I will try again. Because I want this more than anything in the world, I’m willing to subject myself to more Clomid. To shots every day for my entire cycle. I’m willing to do this all, because this is what I know I want. A baby. There is no certainty in this world. I have been given no guarantees. Everything is up to chance and luck. I do know, that if I don’t try this, I will spend the rest of my life wishing I had. That’s something I’m not willing to do.
I’m scared. Not of what I’m about to try to do again. No, I’m scared of hitting publish. Of sharing myself with all of you. Of putting myself out there. It’s been a long time since I’ve been real here and I’m timid.
I know though, it’s time for me to be me on my own blog. If I’m not willing to do that, I have no reason to be here anymore.
Please note that I stole this idea from Jodifur. Hey, at least I ask before I steal post ideas.
It’s come to my attention that the remainder of this year is going to be COMPLETELY INSANE, so I believe it’s time to post and call an end to my posting for 2011. I promise I’ll be back in January. Hopefully with some changes around here. Anyway, before I show you my favorite posts of this year, I thought I’d wish you all a wonderful holiday. Whether that is Chanukah, Christmas, Winter Solstice, Kwansa or just New Years, I hope you enjoy it. Whatever you celebrate, I wish you health and happiness for the remainder of this year.
In January, I made a goal to remember the good in this year. To count my blessings and try not to be such a pessimist. It’s a goal, I’m happy to say that I’ve managed to accomplish over time.
In February, I found out that I have PCOS. It’s changed my life in many ways and I’ll be honest, it’s not all bad. It’s nice to know that certain medical things in my past had reasons. It’s made me less hard on myself. I also love this post about enjoying the small things in my kids lives. Days go so fast and some days, I do wish for a second Sunday.
While writing this post on my step-mom was hard in March, it also led me back to therapy to deal with a few things that I thought I’d let go of. It’s nice to say now, that I have let go of a few issues. It’s helped make this a better year for me. I’ll never forget things that happened when I was a kid, however I don’t have to let it color my world any longer.
April brought my 500th post, which I chose to write for my best friend Liz. I love her even more now than I did then, so I’m glad I gave her that milestone post. April also came with big decisions about the brother I’ll probably never know. I am confident in my decision. Finally, there was the list I made to insure the kids and I had a great summer. I am thrilled to say, I managed to accomplish my goals.
In May, I head great news about Morgan’s future in fifth grade. I have to say, she’s had a phenomenal school year. Her teacher is amazing. We owe her so much. Luckily, because my kids go to a charter school, Morgan will have her next year as well! I also told you all about my lunch date with my dad.
Parenting isn’t always easy, as I realized yet again in June. Making the hard choices is something I am willing to do though. A part of June, I’d rather forget but never will is when the evil clown ate my blog. I’m still thankful to Jenna for fixing it. Also in a funnier post, I shared some text messages I get. Even now, they crack me up.
In July, I got off my anti-depressants after four years. There have been times when I wondered if I could stay off of them. But we’re halfway through December and I can honestly say, I’m doing great right now. On the 18th, my Bailey turned seven. She is one of my very favorite people in this world.
On a random day in August, I wrote about my step-dad for no real reason. Just because I love him. I also went to BH11 and my BFF trip. It was one of the greatest weeks in my year.
September was a harder month for me. I’d rather not re-visit it, except for this one tiny thing. My baby boy turned three. He’s so very three and I adore him for it. Most of the time.
In October I celebrated making it through the first year of divorce. A strange thing to celebrate, yes maybe. However, in my quest to change how I think, I had to look at the bad, to remember the good.
In November, I did quite a few things that scare me. It was a hard month emotionally, but luckily I came out okay on the other side.
December has been very busy. I’m loving ever second of it. For the first time in a long time, I’m truly happy. My baby girl turned ten and had an amazing party. I’m looking forward to everything that we have planned for the next two weeks.
My wish for all of you is a wonderful next few weeks. I’ll see you in 2012.
Love, Issa
to those of you who have been reading me for years. But I’m going to say it anyway.
I’m really happy right now.
Truly happy and it’s nice. I don’t know that I’m used to it. Although this year has been so much better. I’ve been happier more this year than in the past four years. Right now though? I’m very happy.
My life isn’t perfect. There are definite changes on the horizon for next year. Some may be more challenging than others. My money situation needs some work. My house could use some definite work. But you know, none of that seems to be dragging me down.
People? The snow makes me happy. The SNOW. In WINTER. It’s currently 9 degrees and I’m okay with it. I don’t know what it is.
Maybe it’s December. Christmas. My baby girl turning 10 this week. The fact that her sleepover on Saturday was a huge success. My kids being happy and fun. The absolutely beautiful fat Christmas tree we put up last night. The smell alone makes me happy.
Possibly the amount of chocolate in this house helps. Maybe the cookies a lovely friend sent me the other day helped. Knowing that I got my shit together after three years and sent out Christmas cards with PHOTOS of my kids helps.
Whatever it is? I’m loving it. I’m going to love it for as long as it lasts.
I was ten the year I had my one and only big sleepover. My mom felt ten was special and deserved to be treated as such. A sleepover with as many girls as I wanted to invite. I believe I had twelve girls over. Every girl in my class. I’d even invited the new girl, who I wasn’t a fan of. She’d been a shit starter from the second she walked in our class a month earlier. But I felt bad for her, so I invited her anyway.
I went to a small private school and anyone new was immediately noticed and popular. Mostly because hi, you are new! New and shiny. This chick though? She was a nightmare. I just hadn’t realized it completely. I’d been told by a few people that they wouldn’t come if she wasn’t invited. So yeah. I invited her.
My party started off just great. Everyone showed. We did a big scavenger hunt in groups around my neighborhood. There was a lot of shrieking and running around. Pizza and cake were eaten, presents were opened. It was the greatest birthday party ever.
Then my mom went to bed.
For some reason, one which I don’t remember anymore, my best friends younger sister Sarah was at the party as well. She was eight or so. A sweet kid who I’d known my entire life.
The new girl (Nicole) decided this sweet little girl was her mark for the night. I can’t tell you what all she did to her. I probably didn’t see 99% of it. All I know is that at 6am my mom came storming into the room declaring that we were all in trouble. Sarah had waited until then to tell my mom whatever had been done to her. I was in shock, but hey I was in trouble despite it. Nicole of course, blamed it all on me. I’ll never forget how mad my mom was. I’ll never forget crying as each of my friends parents were called and asked to come get their kids.
I never heard what all happened. It wasn’t nice though. This I know.
What I also know is that for the following month, I was the most unpopular kid in school. Until Nicole managed to disrupt everyone elses lives as well. As she befriended each girl in turn and made them turn on their old friends and then she turned on them…well then each one of them was suddenly nice to me again. At the end of the year, Nicole had run out of friends and funny enough, she didn’t show up the following year.
It made me fear sleepovers. With good reason I suppose. Girls can be seriously mean. I had a few after, but no more than say 3-4 girls. I always wanted the big group sleepover as a teen, but I never did it. I swore to myself that I’d never let my kids have a big sleepover like that.
I’ve managed to stick to it. Until now. Morgan will be ten years old in exactly a week. Since she turned four, she has been asking for a big sleepover as her birthday party. Every single year. Each year, I’ve put her off. We’ve done dinners at fancy restaurants with a few friends. We’ve done bouncy places. We’ve had a swim party, a gymnastics party and a cosmic bowling party.
But she’ll be ten. I, like my mother before me, believes that ten is special. So after trying to get her to have it at the wall to wall trampoline place didn’t work, I agreed. She invited twelve girls and ten RSVP’d yes. That’s eleven girls at my house for a sleepover this coming Saturday. Bailey and Harrison will spend the night with their dad, even though it’s my weekend. I’m not taking any chances. I know a lot of these girls, but I don’t know them well.
I’m scared people. I shouldn’t be. Morgan is a million times more with it than I was at her age. She won’t ignore anything and she won’t hesitate to come to me if need be. But girls are sneaky and mean. I’m wondering what the hell I set myself up for.
I fear the sleepover.
1. I’m actually looking forward to the holidays this year. Last year was hard. It was the first year of sharing holidays. Even though we’d made it completely fair, it was still just hard. This year, we split up this week, as the kids have the whole week off. So right now they are in the mountains with Logan and his parents and they’ll have a blast. Wednesday night they come to me and we’ll go to my parents for three days. Christmas break will be the same. We’ve sorta just split it down the middle. I’ve gotten to where I enjoy the time with them and (mostly) don’t fret about the time without.
2. Of course I cried for a few minutes yesterday after leaving them with him. Which, sorta weirded me out. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. It was momentary.
3. I won something on the Internet for the first time ever. I’ve been blogging since late 2005. I’ve entered a zillion contests. I rarely enter them now, just because I know I’ll never win. Last week, I entered Jodifur’s contest. Mostly because I like her. Yet I WON! Go me. Also thank you Jodi.
4. There are days where I wonder what in the world I’m doing online. Days where I find it all so tiring. Days where it feels like more work than fun. Then I see something like Anna’s daughter Margaret getting to go to the AMA’s and meet Justin Beiber, all because of social media and I know why I’m here. I remember why I do this. Because the Internet is filled with amazing people. People who help a devastated little girl have a night of pure joy.
5. I’m currently addicted to Plants vs. Zombies. It’s a silly game that’s been out for a long time. The other night I needed something mindless to do. I downloaded the app. I Luff it. Seriously.
That’s what I know right now. If I don’t post again this week, I hope you all have a fantastic Thanksgiving.
I don’t remember where I saw that line, or if I heard it somewhere. It’s stuck in my mind for months and months. It may have been said to me, it may have been on the side of a bus. I think of it often.
It takes courage to feel.
Truer words have never been spoken. It does take courage. Maybe not the courage one thinks of, because we tend to think of the word in larger ways. People who run into burning buildings to save little old people. Kids fighting cancer. Anyone who stands up to a bully. Courage means all of that and more. That’s the joy of words, they tend to mean many things.
Can I tell you what else feeling your feelings does? It makes you very, very tired. I feel kinda foggy this week, if that makes sense. Which it may not. I’m not depressed. I’ve had no trouble getting up. Darkness at 5pm no longer makes me weepy. This week, so far, has been pretty decent. Yet, I feel like I’m walking around in a fog. Everything takes more energy than I have.
Last week was emotionally exhausting for me. Dealing with things that I tend to ignore, is hard. I don’t like being that person, the person who gets triggered by things in the news. I have to be honest and say, I am that person. Being triggered all week, was tiring. I am proud that I didn’t give into the depression. But it wasn’t easy.
Saying what I said the other day, wasn’t easy. I hate opening that closet and sharing what’s inside. I’d like to close that closet door and throw away the key, but I know that’s not healthy either. Tried that for years. It worked until it didn’t. I can’t do that again.
For now, I’ve re-closed that door. It means I can’t respond to your lovely, kind, supportive emails and comments. I’ve tried. Oh how I’ve tried. Just know, I appreciate every single one of you.
This week, I’m trying to be kind to myself. Last night I opened up the bag that was hiding the chocolates I bought for Christmas. My first Christmas purchase. Whatever. I will buy more. Sometimes you just need some Harry and David Treats. This week, I’ll recover from last week. Hopefully by next week, I’ll feel back to normal.
In other news, I just want to say a HUGE congratulations to my amazing friend Christy on the birth of her new baby boy yesterday.
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