I'm not instutionalized... yet.

Back from the doc, released into the community despite my mental health issues. Anways, according to her, it is basically normal to not get your period following a miscarriage- though this has never been my experience. Both of the other times I got it literally a month later to the day, which was something of a frustration to me because it was like "sheesh, don't you take a break?" (that was the voice of my internal voice to my uterus, with whom I frequently engage in long and engaging discourse). Anyways, she gave me this medication that I'm supposed to take until I start bleeding. So that should be fun. Exciting weekend ahead.

So that is that. Now let me see. Nothing else really new. Tomorrow is the last day of school for my little man, Gage. I think that he is excited by this prospect. Next year will be grade four, which is hard to believe because it seems like just yesterday we were welcoming our little chap to the world. Now here is is- reciting to me a list of words that contain the word "but" and laughing hysterically after each one. Charming. Another ten years and perhaps he will be normal. But I almost prefer the 'but' talk to the wrestling stuff. There is a picture of the little bugger in the top left for your enjoyment. Also in the picture: Payton- who so far seems to be the cuter of the two.

Thanks for your readership. Have a nice evening.

Having Grace (Rated G)

The Other Moment of Truth
-8-

One week later and I’m sitting in an ultrasound room with Cynthia and Horrace, waiting for the other moment of truth: whether there’s one, two, three or four Jacobson babies swimming in my stomach.
A jolt of alarm shoots through me when they tell me that I need to undress from the waist down. I thought this was a simple ultrasound. A squirt of jelly on my belly and that’s it. I give Cynthia a puzzled look, and she shoots me with a look of silent reprimand, motioning for me to hurry up and undress. Horrace turns his back to the wall and hums a little tune to himself.
I undress myself while trying to remain hunched over enough to cover my crotch. This proves difficult, and I struggle for a moment. Cynthia rolls her eyes as she passes me the paper towel/drape to cover myself with and I hop up on the table. Once back up on the table I’m feeling much more relaxed.
Which proves very short lived. A moment later the ultrasound technician comes back in the room and tells me to put my feet in the stirrups. Horrace looks distinctly uncomfortable, and (bless him) he tries to focus his eyes on the poster behind me. Unfortunately, it happens to be a huge glossy poster of female anatomy. He looks a bit blanched. I look at Cynthia but she offers me no comfort, just another look of annoyance. I put my feet in the stirrups. The technician inserts the probe and I’m almost ready to bolt. How humiliating. It’s like I’m a cow being poked and prodded. Or a subject in a series of weird experiments.
But then I glance on the screen and see it: a little squiggle.
“It appears to be a single, live, embryo,” the technician says in a bland voice. “Can you see the heart beating?” he asks. And I can! There’s a little flashing thing in the middle of the little squiggle.
Horrace draws Cynthia into an embrace. I look at them briefly, but they are riveted to the screen. I feel like an intruder in their private moment.

When I go home later I pull out my picture of the ‘cytes. And even though I’m truly glad that there’s only one left, a part of me can’t help but wonder: what became of the other three? I look at the ‘cytes and then think about the ultrasound this morning. It was remarkable how things have already changes so much. What was just a miniscule grey bleb three weeks ago now has a heart that beats. I reflect on this for a moment before sleep pulls at me.

My lucky day (Rated G)

I had a lucky day today. I went to Superstore after work and you will not believe what happened. I went to get a cart and guess what?? There was already a loonie in it! I was a little nervous that someone else was going to start chasing me through the parking lot "That's my cart!" "That's my loonie". So I scanned all around me first, and then took the cart off, wondering how it came to be that someone forgot thier loonie in there. But then I realized- it was probably me the last time I was there! I can be pretty dense sometimes. And then, to top it off, I was short a few bags when bagging my groceries, and then Nikki showed up. She's high up in the Superstore chain, doesn't work the registers just walks around with a clipboard looking like she means business. Suddenly I had extra bags materializing left right and center- FREE of charge. It pays to have connections. Those bags are like three cents each and I got about four for free. So when I do the math, I saved about $1.12 today. And that's without factoring in the interest that will acrue on that money over the years. How lucky is that!!
Other than that, not much new with me. Just want to say that the contest is off to a good start. There is now a bowl beside my computer which currently holds three names- two of which are Niks. Lorrie- three of your comments have been stricken due to lack of content. Actually, two of them have been stricken for lack of content and one of them for content not to my own liking. As administator of this blog I reserve the right to remove, edit change and strike comments at my will.
So that is all for now. Hope you have a good night. TTFN. Keep in mind that there is only twelve more days to get your comments in.

Ready, set, comment (Rated G)

Hello dear readers.
I am posting this entry with a heavy heart. I have noticed a disturbing trend on this blog. It has been a persistent problem ever since I began this, but it has become much more pronounced recently with the loss of my most loyal reader, my mother. (She's not dead- just moved up north where theres no internet connections). The problem is that I am recieving little to no feedback from my audience. I presume that there are readers out there because I see people out in public and they say 'oh, yeah- I read that on your blog'. And yet- where are you?? No comments. This blog is a two way street. The more feedback I get the more interesting it is for all of us. I can't do it on my own, people. Welcome to my world: Frustrationville, Tenessee, Population: myself and the nine of you who (supposedly) read this blog. Now I understand that you are all busy. But such is life. We all get busy. Cry me a river. I have two freaking kids, two dogs, a cat, a husband who seems to be allergic to housework, a full time job and am writing a book in my spare time. And yet- I find the time to maintain this blog. To keep it real with my fans. So suck it up and leave a comment or two here or there. That's all I ask. And it's not so much. Really.
So in order to entice people to be more liberal with their comments, I've decided to add an incentive. Anyone who enters a comment will get thier name entered into a draw. The more you comment the more your chances of winning. I will not say what the prize is, but believe me you, you will want it. Three winners will be selected from the entries on June 30th 2007. The winners will be notified on the blog. They will have twenty four hours to email me thier mailing adress so that their prize can be mailed, otherwise another name will be selected.
The contest is officially open.
Ready, set, comment.

To wax or not to wax... (rated PG13)

Life is full of choices, of oppurtunity. Every day we are presented with new choices--- new paths that we are forced to choose between. And the question is: when oppurtunity comes knocking on your door, will you answer it?? Last night I was presented with a new choice to make, and it is a difficult one because of it's rather sensitive nature.
My husband, Geoff, thinks I should "take one for the team" (as he says) and get waxed, and I dare say that he's not talking about my mustache hair (not that I have any of that, anyways). His logic is this: thousands of girls do it so it can't really be too bad and 2) you already got a tatoo and if you can handle that you can handle this. That tat is proving to be my undoing. So now I'm rather torn on the issue (pardon the pun). I'm intrigued by the idea but also scared of the pain that could be involved. I simply couldn't imagine it being anything less than excruciating. Geoff is inclined to disagree- but it's not his you-know-what on the line so what does he know? I pointed out- remember that scene in 40 year old virgin?? And he's like 'that's different- that's chest hair'. And I was like 'yeah, because everyone knows that chest hair is far more sensitive than pubic hair." Honestly. Men sometimes. Anyways, if anyone has any advice on this issue- or better yet- personal experience, please let me know.
Now, having that rather, shall we say, 'prickly' issue out of the way, there are a few other things to discuss. Last night I attendend a 50th birthday party for my aunty Gail, which was well attended and lots of fun. I got to see some dear old friends- and I shall post pictures as they become available (Jody, this means you.) I would also like to take the time to give a shout out to my new reader- Joe St.Denis (Picture posted above. Also in the pic- myself and my dear cousin Jenna). I apologize if this content offends you. You are the only guy reading so are the minority. But this blog is no-content-barred so read at your own expense. For your sake I have implemented a new rating system which will alert the reader if there is any questionable content. So you will see that todays blog is rated PG13. Hope this helps. Also would like to welcome my other new reader, Jackie Care AKA- the girl in the short dress. She brought up an issue that I would like to adress. The pages that are on this blog that are called "Having Grace" are pages from a book that I am deep in the midst of writing, as one may guess that writing is a passion of mine. So for new readers, you may be wise to go back to the beginning of the book and start from there. I think it starts in February or something. Anyways, just wanted to clear up any confusion.

Trouble in paradise

Let me pose a question to you: Is it fair to leave a dog in a kennel all day and all night?? I should think that the answer to the question is a fairly obvious NO. And yet, here I am, arguing with my husband about an issue that should go without saying. He wants to lock my dog, my baby, Baxter Brown, in a kennel all day and all night- only letting him out for bathroom breaks, just because of a few bathroom mishaps, which, in all fairness, could happen to any of us. I refuse to do it. I love that little dog and I won't do it to him. I told Geoff that the dog and I are a package deal so if he doesn't want the dog, then he doesn't want me.
I may well be out of a home. Anyone have a spare room big enough for me, two dogs, two kids and a cat??
Onto other matters. Life is resuming quite nicely after my little interlude in Regina. I am enjoying being back at home in the hood. I have had my windows smashed twice already so that is pretty much how I know I am really home. God love those crazy kids these days.
Speaking of crazy kids: I still haven't had my period. I'm getting a little crazy myself. I am sure that I'm not pregnant, but yet... what the hell?? It's been seven weeks and still nothing. I don't know. I did a preg. test today but it was negative, but then again my urine was dilute like tap water and I don't completely trust the result. Anyways, I just wish my period would come and I could stop worrying. Not that I'm really worried. If I'm pregnant then thats OK. I mean, babies are pretty cute. You should my nephew Greyson. He's totally awesomely cute. He has the best hair and the most perfectest round face.
Now I know what you're thinking. 'Perfectest' isn't a word. I know that but I like to make up new words sometimes just for kicks. I fear that my brain my be heading south like my breasts. Actually, forget that. We all know I have no breasts. But thats OK. I'm good enough, smart enought and dog gone it, people like me (Stuart Smalley, 1994).
Well, have a nice evening and please comment on the kennel issue.

Having Grace

I couldn’t go back to the office. I told the girls I was still feeling a little off and left a couple hours early. It was not a lie. I was feeling a little off. I was feeling a lot off, truth be told. So many emotions were swirling around. I was happy. This was good. If everything went well, I would walk away from this with six figures in my bank account and perhaps a shot as CEO. But mixed in with the happiness was a little bit of fear. It was more of an emulsion than a mixture. The happiness was on the bottom, but there was a thin layer of fear skimming the surface. What did the next nine months have in store for me? How would I explain this to my family? To my coworkers? What was it going to be like as the months advanced and my stomach grew? Would I grow to care for the baby? Would I be sad to give it up? Or would I just be relieved to put the whole ordeal behind me?
I tried to walk off my angst, but the more I walked the more anxious I became. What if I let them down? What if I lost the baby? Horrace looked so happy. That look in his eyes will haunt me forever if this doesn’t work out.
It didn’t help that I couldn’t talk about this with anyone. That would have to change. The moment of truth was upon me. I had to begin telling my friends and families.

---

I met my mom and sister that evening for dinner. It seemed easier to tell them both at once. I had thought that I would be able to ease into the subject, but straightaway it seemed I had some explaining to do.
“Where have you been hiding?” Mom asked as soon as I sat down. “I was getting so worried about you. I didn’t know if you were having some sort of a breakdown or what. I was just about going mad. I was going to break down you door and find out what was going on.”
“Sorry. I’ve been under the weather,” I replied glibly. I didn’t want to spill it all right off the bat, and then have to sit through a meal of awkward, strained conversation.
“Under the weather?” Mom asked, raising her eyebrows. It was evident she didn’t believe me.
“Come on, spill it,” Erin probed. “It’s a new man, isn’t it?” she asked, her green eyes sparkling mischievously.
“I wish,” I muttered, perusing the menu.
“Shall we order a bottle of wine?” Mom asked.
“Uh, none for me, thanks, but you two go ahead,” I replied, after a moments hesitation.
Mom raised her eyes at me again. “Kris, are you still under the weather?”
“No, I just have an early morning tomorrow.”
“But surely a glass of wine can’t hurt,” mom persisted.
“Well…” I began. Perhaps I should just take the wine and pretend to drink it.
“You don’t look well. You look flushed,” Erin said.
“I told you I’m fine,” I countered in a defensive tone.
Mom and Erin exchanged glances but let the matter drop. The waitress came around to take our drink orders. I ordered a decaf tea. This caused more raised eyebrows.
“All right,” I begin. “I was going to try to ease into this, but it seems there’s no way that’s going to happen. I have some news.” I say. They continue to look at me, but I cannot go on. How to break it to them?
“I knew there was a new man!” Erin says.
“No, it’s not a man. It’s an arrangement. Nothing more and nothing less,” I begin tentatively.
“What you mean like you’re shacking up with someone so he can get his Green Card?” Erin asks. Obviously she watches too much TV. Way too much.
“No. Green Cards are in the States, anyways. It’s like this. My boss, Cynthia,”
“The dragon lady,” Erin interjects.
“Yes, the dragon lady. She’s been having a lot of problems, personal problems. So I’ve decided to help her out.”
“Oh, that’s sweet, dear,” mom says.
“Well, yeah, okay,” I say, not comfortable with being glorified, after all I’m not really interested in ‘helping her out’. Money is my main motivation. The tea comes and I take a long swallow, even though it’s still very hot and burns a bit as it goes down.
“Well, what are you doing? Helping her with budgeting?” she asked. “You were always so good with money. My little accountant,” she said, a proud smile coming over her.
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m helping her with her budgeting. She’s got terrible spending habits. Gucci suits, Louis Vuiton… whatever he sells. You name it, she’s got it” I say, because I simply didn't know how to break it to her.
I’ll tell her next time, I promise myself.
“Good for you. Some people, the way they spend. Hundreds of dollars for a simple pair of shoes. I’ll never understand it. Pure foolishness” mom said.
“Yah, I know,” I nod along.
We order our food and things start to feel normal again. Almost.
“Hey, what was your big news?” Mom asked, suddenly remembering.
“Oh, oh… nothing really. My apartment might be going rent control, so… that should be good.”
They look at me quizzically.
“You really need to get out more,” Erin jokes.
But somehow I doubted that would be happening.

Lessons Learned on the Weekend

I spent this weekend in Regina on a little getaway. These are the lessons I learned.

Lessons from Gail
-In a pinch, one can use the handle off a dresser as a bottle opener (That one will really serve me well.)
-In a pinch, one can use an empty beer box as a cooler. A little ice is all you need.
-You've got to spend money to make money
-Two words: MAX BET

Lessons Learned from Jen
-You DON'T need to order forks with your meal when you phone for take out.

Lessons Learned from Jackie:
-Do your Kegels!!!!! (I'm doing them now!)

Lessons Learned from Kim:
-We're worth $26!!
-Be leary of things in pretty bottles
-Look out for the highbars and hooks in bathroom stalls
-Its not a good idea to cheat (or was it her husband that cheated?? I'm still confused)
-Faux leather? FUN leather!
-Packing is a cinch-- just keep wearing the same clothes

These are the main lessons I learned. If anyone who was on the trip has anything to add, please feel free to write them in the comment section. Needless to say, it was a good trip and I had a lot of fun. Being at home is good but freedom is gooder. That's how many brain cells I killed in just forty eight hours. Scary. Anways, as I was saying, it was good to be home, escpecially to see my husband. I've said it before and I won't hesitate to say it again: absence really does make the heart grow fonder. We did it twice yesterday. Twice! We haven't done it twice in one night since Y2K, since my husband, now approaching forty, normally requires a twenty four hour turnaround period. Anyways, it was awesome, and if we broke the shower curtains, well, I guess they can be replaced.
Anyways, onto other issues. There are two things to report on. One: I'm an aunty to a super awesome little baby named Greyson Cole. He's really, REALLY cute. I like him a lot and am so glad he's here, safe and sound. Now I can't remember what the other thing was. Hmm. Well, perhaps it will come to me later. In the meantime I will post another page out of my book for your reading pleasure.
Peace out.

Possibility Downgraded

Well the possibility that I could be pregnant has been downgraded to impossible. I still have not recieved any news from down yonder, but my blood test came back El Negatorio (that is precisely the medical term for it.) So I guess my body is just out of whach and that is OK. But I realized something this morning when I saw those results in my mailbox. Instead of feeling a spark of releif, it was a twinge of regret that came over me when I looked at the report. I guess, deep down inside I had been hoping for a different result. So I have booked an appointment with my doc on the 26th to see if:
A) She would advise me to keep trying or not in light of all these things that have happened
B) If there is something that I can give my husband to make him want to have another baby, some kind of a hypnotic agent that I can give to him while he sleeps.

In her wisdom, I expect that she will say:
A) That only I can reach a decision of that nature,
B) The only thing she can recommend is open communication
To which I will say: open communication?? I think hynotic agents will be much easier.
Because my husband is quite determined that he doesn't want to have another baby, which I can see where he's coming from. I mean I could always force him into it "My way or the highway" buddy, but I'd rather that it doesn't come to that. We are married, and it is supposed to be a partnership of mutual love and respect.
In theory.
Well, I guess that is all for now. I will let you know how things progress this week on the husband front. I shall keep trying to slowly work at him until he finally relents and lets me have my way- just like he did when we got Baxter. At first he was adamant that he didn't want another dog. And now guess who sleeps at the foot of our bed?? Our new puppy.

Update

My condition seems to be stabilizing, though it was a long and difficult night. The fever seems to have broken, and I believe the mustard poulitices are working well, though I am forced to sleep wrapped in Saraan wrap to deter the dogs from chewing me, and the house smells like mustard something fierce. But the important thing is- I think I am going to pull through this. I'm really weak from the dehydration, am trying to drink more fluids but it's even hard to sit up. My dogs have been my ever watchful campanions, and I know that I will not slip off into a coma (or worse) with them beside me, as they will bay and whine until they bring me around.
I am going to post a link to the public health website on sun exposure. Forewarned is forearmed, and hopefully people will be able to learn from my example. If I can save even one person from this terrible fate I will at least know that I have not suffered in vain.

http://www.weather.com/activities/health/skin/sunsafety/tips.html
After reading this article, I realized that I did everything wrong. I can I can only blame myself for this calamity.

More book

When I went home that night, I took out my picture of the blastocytes, which I had affectionately nicknamed ‘the ‘cytes’. They were just a clump of little blebs. And yet, they were something more. And I wondered what it would be like if it actually came down to actually ‘reducing’ the number. How would we choose between A,B,C and D? Or more precisely, how would they choose? It seemed so backwards, so wasteful, to go through so much to create life only to turn around and terminate it. Though I suppose ‘reduce’ is the more polite term for it. I wondered what this child’s life would be like with Cynthia as his/her mom. It would probably be boarding schools and nannies and non fat ice cream. A part of me actually hoped that the baby wouldn’t be an only child. Otherwise it seemed apparent that its life would be lonely. I lay awake for a long time before I finally fell asleep that night, my mind very troubled.

The Moment of Truth
-7-

The bad thing about waiting to find out if you’re pregnant or not is that everything suddenly becomes construed as a possible symptom of pregnancy. For example, yesterday morning I went to the bathroom three times. And then I thought “I must be pregnant”. But then I remembered that I had two glasses of water and two cups of decaf tea. And then at lunch, Constance heated up her curry, and the smell was just bloody awful. I honestly thought for a minute that I might be sick. But then I realized that I never really did care for the smell of it. Perhaps it had always been like this but I never really noticed. All afternoon my breasts ached. I alternated between thinking that I was pregnant and that I was simply premenstrual. Honestly, it was to the point where I began to think I was obsessive.
So while we waited for the results I, myself, was quite relieved that I was getting an answer. Whatever it was I would deal with it. Cynthia, however, did not seem so relieved. She was anxious, chain smoking in her office. At lunch time she stepped out and went to have a manicure. She said she needed to ‘decompress’. I guess she’d gotten compressed again since coming home from France. One wouldn’t expect a person to compress that quickly, but I guess in Cynthia’s case it happens rather fast. Especially in light of all the stress of the pregnancy test, although she wasn’t the one with the bruise on her arm from the lab tech who seemed like she was still in training and battling Parkinsons at the same time. I’m the one who needs to decompress, I thought. At least she can drink coffee. Although, to be honest, I have on a few occasions snuck one when she was out on business. I really don’t see what harm a little caffeine could do. And besides, what is she going to do? Test my urine?
Oh shit. I never thought of that. What if she does test my urine? Can they do tests for that? I’ll have to find out. I add ‘find out if they can test urine for caffiene’ to my ‘to do’ list. I momentarily feel better. But then I start to worry that she’ll come across the list and find out that I’ve been drinking coffee. So I shred the piece of paper up into tiny bits. My coworker glance at me strangely, but say nothing.
As the day dragged slowly on, my calm resolve began to crack. I was checking the clock every five minutes. In some cases three. Walking around aimlessly, too agitated to sit at my desk. It was driving me crazy. How long could it take to do a simple pregnancy test? This wasn’t like a jury deliberation where 12 lab techs sequester themselves in a room and debate the facts. "The blood evidence is quite clear, but everything else is purely circumstancial." It was a simple plus or minus sign. What was the hold up?
Constance was worried about me. I heard her muttering to Nancy that I still wasn’t quite right ever since my bout with the bird flu. I simply pretended not to hear that. And then I saw Horrace coming down the hall.
Carrying a bouquet of yellow roses. But even without the flowers, the expression on his face said it all. He was walking with a big, stupid grin. My heart began to beat faster as he drew closer. I couldn’t believe it. I walked out of the office and met him in the corridor, not wanting my coworkers to hear the exchange. He drew me into a tight embrace.
“Thank you so much,” he said, and I wondered if he was actually crying.
“I take it the test was positive?” I asked, bewildered by the outpouring of emotion.
“Of course,” he says with a puzzled expression. “We got the news hours ago. I just wanted to thank you personally.” He shoved the roses into my arms. “I have to go. Cynthia’s waiting on me for celebratory drinks, but I wanted to thank you personally.”
And he was gone.

Stick a fork in me...

Well summer is in full swing. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. (That's a reference to the 90's hit sitcom "Seifeld"). Each year starts out much the same way for me. I get so excited to see the sun that I sit out in it all day long, forgetting that I am a red headed white chic and am doomed to a screaming, bleeding burn if I don't lather myself liberally with SPF 45 at every oppurtunity. But that's OK. I guess that's why they created Aloe Vera. Actually, I don't think aloe vera was created. I think it exists in nature. In fact, I know it does because my son bought me an aloe plant last year for mothers day, which met the same untimely fate that my marigolds did this year. Death by forgetting to water it. Anyways, I'm slightly sidetracked here. Someone was clever enough to make the aloe into a soothing gel (wonder how they did that?) and bottle it with an easy to use spout, so that's as good as creating it, perhaps even better in some ways. And the mosquitos are some terrible this time of year. Mosquito bites and sunburn... not a good combination. You scratch the bite and it feels good for about a second and then you remember only too late that you have a burn underneath it. Oh, I suppose I shall limp along though, much as I always have.
Other than that, not much new with me. My pregnancy test addiction has forced its way back into my life. I had my surgery on April 25th and here it is June already and still no sign of my 'friend'. I'm sure it is just slightly out of whack after everything that's happened. But every day that I don't get my period I can't help but think 'what if..' Anyways, I'm sure that I'm not, as my husband and I have a sure fire way to avoid pregnancy. The method is called 'my husbands insane work schedule' which actually does a pretty good job of keeping us apart. The back up plan is something which I won't get into too much, except to say that it is, by necessity, a messy affair, though not always terribly accurate or effective. This is, indeed, the same method that landed me pregnant at 19. Anyways, I guess only time will tell. Like I say, I don't really think that I am. I feel premenstrual- bloated and crampy, etc. I'm sure that I am only being paranoid, but perhaps I will do a blood test on Monday to settle the matter.
And speaking of family matters, it is with some regret that I must report that my parents have headed north to thier cottage in Candle Lake to retire. But, I like to say "don't say good bye, say good riddance". You know how parents can be. They're a real buzzkill sometimes. Always checking up on you, searching your room for narcotics, reading your emails, loitering outside your house to see what time you come and go, switching your 2% milk for non fat. Oh, I know they only worry, and now I can see why. The first weekend their gone and I end up laid up with a sunburn/heatstroke. If only they were here, they could be looking after me. Spooning me sweet tea with honey and applying mustard poultices to my burning flesh.
Anyhoo, I suppose that is all for now. Have a good weekend. Enjoy the nice weather- and don't forget the sunscreen!!