I'm a Smart One

Never Paper, Always Plastic

After the heaviness of Heartlight, I thought it might do my soul good to follow with something a wee bit more lighthearted.

Frank has a knack for leaving purchased items packed in the plastic shopping bags that the bagger put them in during checkout. Here's the thing - he will put the items away in their proper places, but will not unbag them first. Loaves of bread are placed on top of the fridge in the bag. Packages of chicken, roasts, pork chops, and other meats are placed in the chest freezer in the bags. Boxes of mac & cheese, Rice-a-Roni (the San Franciscooooooo treat!) and various other side dishes are placed on the pantry shelves in the freakin' bags. Windex, lemon-scented Pledge, Pine-Sol, and other cleaners are left in the cabinet under the kitchen sink, still in the plastic grocery bags. Two hazards for the price of one! BONUS!

On Saturday while Frank was at class (sucks to be him, with a class on Saturday mornings!), I went on a cleaning rampage. Heavy cleaning may not sound like a noteworthy event, but in my case, I assure you that it is. My impulse to go on a cleaning dervish comes less often than a total solar eclipse on February 29th, so when it happens people usually just stand back and watch with their mouths agape in awed wonderment and take pictures that they later caption I WUZ HERE. It was those damned plastic bags which set this one off. 

Intending to make tuna sandwiches and French fries for lunch, I went to the refrigerator for a few eggs to boil. 18 Grade A extra large eggs. On the shelf. In the yellow, squeaky, Styrofoam container. In a plastic bag with KROGER stamped in blue on the side. It was sitting right next to the Miracle Whip, which was in a bag of its own. I growled a little and may have paired Frank's name with a choice curse word under my breath. Then I proceeded to the freezer to get the fries. I don't have to tell you what I found there.

Have you ever watched that show Snapped, the documentary-type show which chronicles when women do just that and KILL someone, usually a husband or significant other who has pissed them off that one. last. time? Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I heard it -- that little *snap* -- and instead of plotting murder, the result was the cleaning dervish.

I cleared all the bags from the two freezers in the garage: the chest freezer (where the meats are stored), then from the standing freezer (where all the other frozen stuff is stored), then from the freezer half of the fridge in the kitchen (where the important stuff like ice cream is stored). Eleven total among the freezers (I know this, because the mania sparked a sort of OCD drive to count how many effin' bags I found). Then that rolled into wondering how many more bags I'd find between the cabinet under the sink and the pantry (7 more) which - hey! While I'm in the pantry, I might as well throw out anything that's expired or stale or that we'll never get around to eating, anyway. And since I'm clearing out the pantry, I may as well clear out the fridge and give that a good scrubbing, and since I'm throwing out expired stuff, I may as well go through the medicine cabinet and throw out all the old meds. And here is the lotion I've been looking for, but it belongs in the bathroom and dude -- is that pee on the floor next to the kids' tub? I'd better go get the bathroom cleaner and get to work in here and look! -- there's no toilet paper in here...I'd better go get some from the linen closet in the hall and damn! -- it 's a mess in here so I should refold these towels....

Frank got home and the house sparkled and smelled like lemons.

His eyes widened in amazement, and then he checked the calendar to see if it was a leap year.

"I got you something," he said, with the prideful excitement of a child who is about to give his mom the painting he made in art.

"Oh, yeah?" I said, perking up in anticipation for my prize. "Is it something really important, like something with a lot of sugar and fat and calories to recharge me after that cleaning rampage I just got finished with?"

"We're in each others' minds again -- I stopped and Baskin-Robbins and got you some jamocha almond fudge ice cream! I know it's your fave." He threw an air-kiss in my direction, then put the pint of ice cream in the freezer.

In. the flippin'. bag.

~snap~

I took the bag, jumped on Frank's back like a rabid Outbreak monkey, and suffocated my husband.

He had it comin'.* 

TV producers will be calling at any moment to book me for an episode of Snapped.

So tell...what are some of your pet peeves?

*The first person to comment with the reference to the allusion and a list of at least three (more are welcome) of your peeves gets a free dozen of Frank's Big Ones (which will not be sent in a plastic grocery bag). Your peeves can be directly related to your significant other or any peeve in general.

Plastic bags in my freezer are perfect only if they contain husband-saving ice cream. Other Perfect Moment Mondays can be found at Weebles Wobblog.

As Seen on TV

I was on YouTube looking for a completely unrelated clip when I saw this one as a "What People are Watching Now" feature:

I had one rhetorical question: Are you shitting me? I thought that surely this must be some sort of gag commercial. So the curious cat in me looked up the Website to see if it actually exists, and it does. Surely, I thought, this can't be a real Website where you can actually order this ridiculous product. I bet if I click on "ORDER NOW" a prank page will pop up that says something like "HA! FOOLED YOU! WIPE YOUR OWN ASS, YOU LAZY, GULLIBLE, GERMOPHOBIC POOP!"

But, no! For just $19.99 (plus shipping and handling) you really CAN own your very own Comfort Wipe! BUT WAIT! As a special added bonus, you'll also receive the Get a Grip, which suctions easily to the side of your tub or shower! Let's not slip and fall on that newly Comfort Wiped ass!

But if you DO slip and fall, just reach for the little box doodad hanging from the chain around your neck and press the little button. You know what to do next. Just shout, "I'VE FALLEN, AND I CAN'T GET UP!" as loud as you can so that the sound of your voice reaches the speaker thingy. Your Life Call 24-hour emergency alert system will have paramedics at your door in no time.

Just please be sure that there aren't any tissue shreds still stuck in your ass before the EMTs get there. You know what your mom used to tell you about always making sure that you had on clean underwear? There's nothing worse than being caught by paramedics with no underwear on at all and a Comfort Wipe still stuck up your ass. Talk about embarrASSing.

 

What is the most ridiculous As Seen on TV product you've ever...umm...seen on TV? Have you ever bought any As Seen on TV products?

I think I lost my funny

Dude.

Check me out.

See how I walk into this room all boss and whatnot?

Lemme get my music flowing. That's my jam.

I'm feeling better, or at least I think I am.

So maybe I'll dance a little, cuz no one on the corner has a swagger like me.

Oh, snap! It's in my bones now! Jump back, homie, cuz you can't touch this.

Feeling so good that I'm on my feet so fast, cuz I'm the shiznit, y'heard?

I'm feeling so good that I'm feeling froggy now, so maybe I'll jump.

*jump*

I'mrunningI'mrunningI'mrunningWHOAmuthafarkinfastWHOA!!!

*thump*

On my aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaass again.

NoI'mnot!

YesIam.

But I gots that shwagga, so I'll get up and keep right on steppin'.

It's okay. You can laugh.

Free association on transfer eve

PIO is being especially mean to my ass this time around.

I should get Frank to rub my butt so that I can relax.

Oooh! I get to pop a valium tomorrow!

I'm sleepy. Usually I have killer insomnia leading up to transfer, but I've been sleeping like a rock. Escapism, anyone?

My dog is snoring.

I snore when I'm sick. Or pregnant.

*sigh*

Earlier today I realized that next Friday is a day of plenty. The last day of school (for the students) is next Friday. A blogger buddy is flying in to visit with Chance and me next Friday. Jordan's sixth birthday is next Friday. *insert sudden and dramatic piano chords here* BETA is next Friday. I'd like to say that three outta three ain't bad, but I'd rather score on all four counts.

I feel like a total fatty watching The Biggest Loser finale. If I can't rightfully wear maternity clothes this summer, then it's nothing but low-fat, organic air and diet water for me. And Frank's cookies.

What the shit is up with a few people (non IF-ers, I promise. IFers can complain about whatever they want to because, well, I think we've EARNED it) crabbing about maternity clothes and giving up certain activities per doctor's orders until the second trimester? HELLO!!! Are you pregnant? Then shut the fluckashit up. Nothing to bitch about.
GOOD KARMA   --------->-------->      BAD KARMA

Oh, how I doth love fuzzy bunnies and puppies and rainbows and wish that I could give them to all of my friends and even to people who annoy me, because they need love too!
GOOD KARMA <----------<--------- BAD KARMA

*singing* Go, Jeeeerry! It's your birthday! He lost the weight! He won a hundred grand! 

(_(_) ~~ (_)_) ~~ (_(_) ~~~ (_)_) <--- that's me shakin' mah bootay.

Not really, because mah bootay hurts. 

Frank is snoring. Is he pregnant?

**********

Transfer is at 11. I'll be home to update by 5. Feed Reproducina all the beans you can. We are long overdue for rainbow glittler, Skittle-scented farts.

Sentences

Thank you for the outpouring of support the past few days; we're okay.

I'm sleepy, but happy.

There are T-minus 16 days of school left.

Today in class we are reading one of my favorite kiddie-lit short stories - "The All-American Slurp." It's below the 8th grade reading level, but whatever. It's short, cute, entertaining, the students always love it, and it's a good narrative tie-in to the international culture and customs research project that they have been assigned.

If scheduling permits, I'm going on a field trip next week with the twins' 2nd grade class to a bamboo farm and to pick strawberries.

Jordan wrote a cute story in his kindergarten class about how he wished he had a jumping casaw (castle). He would bounce with his Daddy and thow (throw) balls at Jaiden it would be SUPER GRATE and AWSUM!

TJ is now obsessed with powers of ten multiplication problems. I made the mistake of teaching him the trick of adding the zeroes and tagging them to the end, so now, of course, he's a mathmagician: "Hey Auntie Kyyyyyym - I know what 700 times 800 is. (pause to allow room for me to be impressed) It's FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTY THOUSAND! Yeah, I'm so smart, I'm so smaaaaart! Hey Auntie Kyyyyym - I know what 6,000 times 600 is...." and on and on and on and on.

Jaiden and Kyra got straight A's on their mid-term progress reports. They told me that they were going to work in a laboratory together to find a cure for the Swine Flu when they grew up and I couldn't help but think of them as Pinky and the Brain. Kyra also told me that she was going to be a freelance writer on the side.

Quote from Kaelyn: "Eeewww, Mom. I got snot on my hands! See? What does snot start with? It starts with S! S says ssssssssssss, like a snake! And booger starts with B! B-b-booger! Can you wipe the b-b-b-BOOGER and the sssssssssssssssss-SNOT off my hand?"

Frank has been fully accepted, has submitted all necessary paperwork to get his VA educational benefits rolling, and starts class on June 5. I'm totally going to take a First Day of School picture of him with his book bag when he's on his way out the door. 

We hope to do a full launch of Frank's Etsy bakery by mid-July. We've added in some cookies and changed a couple of names thanks to many of the awesome suggestions given to us last week. Winners *might* be announced next week.

My lining check is this afternoon. I've been on both Vivelle and estrace, so hopefully I won't have any of the slow-growth nonsense from the last cycle.

Transfer is in approximately two weeks. 

*******

And from the Files of What the Fuck?, China, with its longstanding one-child policy, quite naturally prohibits surrogacy. However, surrogacy is quietly practiced there without much sanction, until now apparently. Authorities from the Chinese city of Guangzhou forced the abortions of three surrogates. Appalling.

Abstract

A couple of days ago, our beloved niobe wrote an interesting post and invitation to participate, which I am going to shamelessly copy here because 1) she said everything I would have, 2) she writes better than I do, and 3) I'm too lazy to summarize in my own words, anyway:

Piet Mondrian is one of those iconic modern artists, with instantly recognizable compositions consisting of grids of dark lines enclosing fields of white and eye-catching primary colors. A complicated theoretical apparatus underlies these paintings, involving evolution towards higher planes of being and seeing and the quest for an art more real than reality itself. Mondrian took this all very seriously, so much so that when his friend and collaborator, Theo van Doesburg, introduced diagonal lines into his compositions, Mondrian reportedly never forgave him.

The picture above, however, isn't actually a Mondrian. In fact, it's supposed to be a picture of, well, me. And, oddly enough, I think it pretty much captures my physical and spiritual essence. If you'd like to create your very own personal modern art masterpiece, just go to this this site, answer a few basic questions about yourself and voilà! the portrait of you that Mondrian probably would have painted if only he'd had the chance.

Though I copied niobe's words, the picture above is mine, and yes -- I absolutely do feel like this picture has somehow managed to capture the essence of me. My first thought was that this picture is a perfect abstract representation of Frank and me. We're glued-at-the-hip close and the vertical brown and red bars seem accurately proportionate to the height difference between him and me.

My second thought -- the one that stole my breath -- was that it also mirrors my most dominant insecurity; the feeling that no matter how hard I might strive and reach, I never quite seem to measure up.

Be sure to visit niobe's post to see links to others' Mondrians.

You smart cookies, you!

Can I just say that in the last post, you guys have been cracking Frank and me the heck up? You guys are brilliant and hi-freakin'-larious. From the comments that have been posted so far, there are a few cookie names and cookie variety suggestions that Frank has absolutely fallen in love with and will most certainly play around with. There is also a big winner for the bakery name. The winners are....

..........................

.........................

.........................

.........................

.........................

.....not going to be announced for a few more days. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

I know -- I suck. We have the bakery name solidified and my surro-friend Kimmy is working up a graphic, but I want to leave some more time open for cookie name and variety suggestions. You guys are rockin' with the suggestions, and I don't want to squelch anyone's creative energies by announcing winners too early.

Question -- now that there are so many "Naughty" cookie suggestions, Frank is thinking of dropping the basic "Nice" cookies and going with only the premium, can't-get-anywhere-else varieties (if you have no clue what I'm talking about, click that link up there at the top of this post to get caught up). What do you think?

Chance has her baseline ultrasound tomorrow and also starts Lupron. She starts stims on Sunday.

Distraction by cookie is a good thing.

I welcome April ICLW'ers with a contest

Hi. I'm Kym, and this is my blog.

*Hi, Kym.*

The super-short story: After 2.5 years of trying to conceive naturally without the slightest bit of luck, I hit the infertility lottery and conceived girl/boy twins on Clomid. I later conceived two singletons on Clomid. Somewhere in the middle of that, I received a full and proper diagnosis of PCOS with Insulin Resistance as the cause of my anovulation and inability to get pregnant without a little ovarian ass-kicking. Now, I'm the proud mother of four bright kiddos plus one: Kyra and Jaiden, age 7; Jordan, age 5; and Kaelyn, age 3; and my nephew TJ, age 8. Read The Rundown for extended information about The SmartOne family.

I'm not your average mommyblogger, though (I actually shudder at the term). I blather on about my five (known here as el Cinco de Mio) and sometimes about my work as an 8th grade English teacher, but the primary focus of my blog is continuing to bitch about infertility in my role as a gestational surrogate. I've helped bring one family's child into the world, and I'm currently cycling for a mid-May transfer with my intended parents Chance and Apollo. We suffered a chemical pregnancy in February, but prayerfully the next cycle will be THE cycle. I hope you stick around for the long ride. You and the embryo/s, that is.

Enough about me - this post is really about my sexy man Frank. I'm totally going to brag here:

• high school sweethearts
• married for almost 13 years, together for 16 years
• medically retired from the Army following his 1998 diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis
• blessed with remarkably good health despite the disease
• the bomb-diggety stay-at-home-dad since the twins were born
• starting college in the summer for a degree in Physical Education
• cleans the house
• does the laundry
• does homework time
• chases el Cinco around the house for tickles and body slams and karate
• cooks 95% of what we eat (the other 3% is fast-food and the other 2% I microwave)
• bakes as a hobby, and if all of the above isn't enough to get you hot, here's another:
• now aiming to open an Etsy cookie shop

Long-time readers and Frank-lovers, did you catch that last one?

FRANK IS GOING TO OPEN AN ONLINE COOKIE SHOP!


A man who cooks and cleans and is great with kids and feeds me homemade, ginormous cookies? Rrrrraaawwrrr.

Don't be jealous, ladies; be helpful. I'll share (but no pinching of his butt. That's all mine).

We have many of the cookie variety, packaging, pricing, and design concept ideas worked out, but what we need is a name for his bakery. It needs to be something that reflects Frank. He has a schmoove, Rico Suave kind-of appeal. He's quiet, laid back, more of a casual observer than an active participant. He's the candlelight and rose petals in the bubble bath type, the gentle giant with solid, silent support. He's also quirky with a killer sense of humor. His bakery name should reflect that.

We'd like for the name to have some sort of inclusion of his name or nickames: Frank, Maestro, BarneyMac, B-Love, or any derivation thereof. (Those nicknames were all earned from his Army days; he was the casanova that all the girlies flocked to, but he was taken already. *insert evil laughter here* Sucks to be them.)

For further inspiration and so you can get a better sense of Frank's vibe, below is the general concept of his shop and cookies. Which, it should be known that I'm the brainchild behind much of this. It goes something like this:

Me: You know what sounds good? A big assed cookie with an overload of chocolate. Chocolate batter, chocolate chunks, and maybe white chocolate chips.

Frank: (tapping chin with finger) Hmm. Sounds good.

Me: And it needs a sexy name, because it's a sexy cookie.

Frank: A sexy cookie?

Me: Yeah, there's something kindof naughty about it. You should call it the Menages Trois.

Frank: (sexily swiveling his hips around) Oooh, you mean like me, you, and the cookie doing naughty things in the bed?

Me: (flatly) Uuummm, no. I was thinking more like the marriage of those three types of chocolate in the unholy, sinful, and fattening but oh-so-delicious circle of baked goodness.

Frank: I can do that. Can I do you, too?

Me: Chocolate first, Mister Cookie Man. I have my priorities.

But I digress, sort-of. Where was I? Oh, yes - the bakery concept:

All cookies will have Frank's signature compact disc-sized porportions. Size matters (heh), and it is the size of his cookies that will be the major selling point. Click here for a picutre of one such cookie.

There will be "Nice" and "Naughty" cookies. We're not sure if Nice/Naughty will stick, but there will be the involvement of seductively opposite words like "Innocent/Sinful," etc. We're open to suggestions.

The "Nice" cookies will be your basics: chocolate chip, chocolate chip with walnuts, sugar, peanut butter, and oatmeal raisin.

The "Naughty" cookies are the premium varieties, the special recipes that were born in either my mind or his:

1. The Menages Trois: chocolate batter, chocolate chunks, white chocolate chips
2. The Monkeyboy: banana, chocolate chips, and walnuts (this one sounds like a naughty name, but it's really named after Jordan)
3. The Aristocrat: dried cherry chunks, chocolate chips, chunks of Skor candy, and toffee chips (Chance thought of this one)
4. Wake Me Up Before You Cocoa: coffee-flavored cookie with chocolate chips and chocolate/mocha icing drizzle (still working on this one)
5. Get Lei'd: pineapple chunks, coconut, and macadamia nuts
6. Appleholic's Anonymous: apple chunks soaked in amaretto, amaretto-infused batter, pecans, extra cinnamon and nutmeg (this title isn't exactly PC, but damn, it's funny)

His packaging colors will be brown and teal. His tagline will be "These ain't your Grandma's cookies." Get it? Grandma's cookies? As in, not the brand name Grandma's cookies? I slay myself.

So, here's the contest: leave some suggestions for his bakery name in the comments. You can enter as many times as you'd like to. We'll pore through all of them and select the one we like the best.

You can also leave suggestions for either sexy/quirky cookie names (and we'll develop the recipe), recipe ingredient ideas (and we'll develop the name), or both.

We're open to any and all other ideas for marketing, packaging, etc.

The name contest winner will receive a six-cookie sampler and anyone else who suggests some ideas that we end up using will recieve a two-cookie sampler.

There is no time limit; this contest is open for as long as it takes us to land on the right name.

Okay, creative people of the Internet; gimme whatcha got!

Straight from the bowels of hell

I find that I'm throwing myself into reading and obsessing over all of your blogs, but when it comes to writing over here in mine, I can't brain cuz I have the dumb. Seriously - my mind goes blank and my fingers go numb, that panicky feeling threatens to tighten my throat and mental clarity goes all fuzzy.

For some reason, it feels more comfortable to keep a low profile on this cycle. I don't know how much or how little I'll write about it. Today I might not want to say much, but tomorrow I might be freaking the fuck out about something and will need you all to calm me down.

Speaking of freaking out about something -- where the flip is my period? I'm not talking about the one at the end this sentence, ether. I swear -- I can't even stay regulated on freaking birth control pills now. Tomorrow morning I'm supposed to have my baseline lining check, but it will completely defeat the purpose to pony up to the stirrups without having started my period.

The Lupron is being especially bitchy to me this time around. I think that stuff is really repackaged demon piss. Somewhere there is a secret, dark, dank cave where there are rows of trapped demons, their slimy skin burning fluorescent red with rage. Their pointy little peepees are suctioned into tubes, and their boiling hot piss is whisked away down chutes into the Holy Room. This is where it's mixed with a byproduct created from the pee of nuns. Some genius thinks that this is what will exercise the demonic residue, but oh no! No holy nun pee can combat the demon juice that I inject into my thighs every night. There is a reason why Frank's term for Lupron is "Bitch in a Bottle;" that shit makes my head spin. He just might smack me with a Bible and ward me off with a silver crucifix. Amen.

So anyway, I don't want to not say anything here, either. A few people really dug my video blog and suggested that I do some others. But uuuhh...WTF should I talk about? Nancy did a kick ass Q&A video blog session a few weeks ago. You ask the questions and I'll answer. They can be about surrogacy or me or el Cinco or something totally random. Anything that's a good distraction and gives me something to fill the blog space will basically work, because I don't want to go totally quiet in between bouts of freakoutedness.

That's all for now. I'm going to shoot up tonight's demon piss and play Rock Band with the fam. Y'know...anything to NOT wonder about where my freakin' period is.

How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news (Romans 10:15)*

Kym,
thanks for arranging this exchange...so fun!
I gave you three pair of socks for extra thanks; you deserve it!

Ballerina socks for grace, spa socks for relaxation, and kokopelli socks for luck in your infertility endeavors!

Enjoy! And thank you again from all of us!

         Jessica

PS: You completely do kick infertility's ass...good luck in your coming cycle and all you do! God bless!


*Scripture imprinted on the bottom of the card Jess sent to me.

By nothing more than pure coincidence, Day One of Sock It to Me Week is also Day One of injectibles. It seems fitting and appropriate to have these two events occur in tandem. I've never had a shot feel like a hug, but it did. Socks from the beautiful Jess warmed my feet and the donated Lupron (you know who you are!) warmed my heart.

All of you out there warm my spirit. When I started writing this blog a bit more than a year ago, there was no way I could know how far your support would reach. You will carry Chance and me through this cycle. I will need you and the good news of your support that you bring.

For all of my verbosity, any words of gratitude that I could ever create would only feel clumsy and inadequate in comparison to the swell my heart feels when I think of all of you, my friends inside the computer.  Try as I might, I'll never get it right...

...but know that for everything I can say, my heart feels infinitely more.

Thank you all.

Well that was fun

Trish, who is both my coworker and high school classmate, pretty much summed it up in a comment on my last post: I never knew you had it in you. Contrary to the crazy inyourfaceitness displayed here, I'm very quiet at work and was most certainly quiet in high school. There were no instances of wild drinking  or raucous parties from me. Ever. Even on the rare occasion that Frank and I have alcoholic beverages in the house, I might drink three wine coolers or a similar fruity drink MAX before I feel soft around the edges and I end up falling asleep before finishing the next drink.

I must say that it was some kind of a thrill to have continued to drink through The Sleepies and straight into The I've Lost All Common Sense and Everything is Funnies.

We all woke up at various intervals between 7:30 and 8:00 this morning. Dani seemed to have forgotten about falling asleep for a few minutes in the middle of the kitchen floor and Chance and Apollo nearly laughed themselves to tears AGAIN about me falling out of the chair. Apollo had a bit of a headache. I didn't feel what could be classified as a hangover, but I definitely felt The Dizzies and Numbies. Still, I managed to cook breakfast (I KNOW, right!?! I cooked and not Frank) without torching the eyebrows off my face.

Last night was most certainly worth the brain cells that I'll never get back. Apparently I lost more than a few, because this morning when I read my HELLO, WORLD -- I'M DRUNK OUT OF MY MIND post I was amazed. I mean, I distinctly remember proofreading that post before I published it. What you read is the EDITED version. Can you imagine what a clusterfuck it must have been before I "fixed" it?

Six double shot glasses -- two for a buck at the Dollar Tree.
8 bottles of brightly colored alcohol -- $70
Getting shitfaced with your family and making and ass of yourself in front of the whole world while in the midst of a drunken stupor -- priceless.

Share a priceless drunken stupor moment of your own. I've all given you the gift of letting you laugh at my inebriated expense. Now it's your turn!

Whey yo9u shouildn't blog while drinking`

Well shit. I just typed half a blog post and lostthe  whole damend thing because I accidentally clicked somethign thaqt I shouldn't have. ANd I lost the whole damened thing.

We were playing spoons. "we" being me, Chance, APollo, Frank, my dad, and my sister. Have you ever played spoons befiore? In the center of the table, you put one less spoon than you have participatncs in the game. The dealer gives everyone 4 caRDS. THe object of the game is to get a four of a kind. HTe dealer picks up a card then passes it along to the next player. I fyou  want to keep ac ard that's passed to you, you must discard a card from your hand. You can't keep any more than four cards in your hand at a time. When you get a four of a kind, you put your cards down then grab a spoon. THe player witout a spoon has to take a drink from the shot glass. Wemixed a bunch of "special beverages" for our shot glasses. Guess who kept losing. It wasn't frank or Chance, or Apollos, or CHance or my Dad, or Dani. I actually fell out of my chair. And we have those co unter=height chaires. I alsmost peed myself from lauhing so harud.

Chance said that I was guilty of BUI - Blogging While INtoxicated and that I woudl probably wregret this post in the morning. But it's already morning. Dude - it's like almost 2 am! ANd I've NEVER actually been so drunk before that I couldn't see striaght, but as of right now I can't feel y feet and half of myface. I think I might have even emialed someone, maybe Mel. SAs in Stirrup Queens Mel. HWiel tipsy. Prohbaly not such a good idea.

Io has had a oupcle of druken psost and I always thought that they were so funny. I think maybe  should go to bed nowi before I really embarrass meyslfe. But maybe I've already done that. Not such a smart one, huh? Okay. Oging to bed now. I think eveyrone but me has already passed out.

And I gotta pee. So good night.

PS; Has anyone ever read Flowers for ALgernon? Don't I kinda sound like Charlie before the surgery? Or like, after the surgeyr when he satrrted losing his intelligence again?

PSS: I'm totally going to regret postin this in the mornign, aren't I?

Welcome, IComLeavWe'ers!

Welcome, March ICLWers! I think that many of you have probably already visited my blog, but here's a fun little introduction for you newcomers to SmartOneville.

The alphabet a la Smart One:

Apollo, my intended father, earned his arsonist badge. Last week he torched a meadow. Seriously.
Bacon - I'm eating some right now. Pork rules.
Chance and Apollo are my intended parents, but even better, they're family.
Dishes - I don't do 'em.
Eighth grade English teacher
Frank is my husband. He cooks and makes delicious desserts like a mofo.
Georgia girl by default, but born in California.
Hater of assclowns who think they know everything.
IVF#2 is coming up mid-May. Most of our meds were lovingly donated by our bloggy friends.
Jaiden, age 7 and Jordan, age 5 are my sons.
Kyra, age 7 and Kaelyn, age 3 are my daughters. All four were conceived on Clomid.
Love cookies. Probably too much.
Military brat; I lived in 8 different places by the time I was 12.
Not really as smart as I profess to be.
OMG! Fuckernuts and manbiscuits and pricksicle and fucknuttery are some of my favorite words.
Procrastinators like me, let's unite! But let's do it later, okay? I also have PCOS. Good times.
Quizno's spongmonkeys crack me the freak up.
Rugrats - Frank stays home with them and he kicks ass as stay-at-home dad.
Sam is the name of my surro-son. He'll be two in just a few days!
TJ is my 8-year old nephew who we're raising. He's a funny kid.
Unicorns that fart rainbows might be roasted come May or June.
Very much in love with Steely Dan.
Wondering almost non-stop if this next (and final) cycle will work.
XXX-rated movie of me would probably blind you.
You soooo totally don't want to see me naked. *I* don't want to see me naked.
Zzzzz...I just put you to sleep with this boring introduction, didn't I?

The answer to this question would be an emphatic "NO!" so don't say I didn't warn you

~Click to enlarge~

Happy Whatever Day

Did you know that today is lace oatmeal cookie day, Pillsbury Doughboy Day (his birthday), and Goddess of Fertility day?

Sheesh. You infertilies.

Today is your day! Celebrate Aphrodite and all those other Greek gods and goddesses of fertility! Burn some incense in honor of her and then go get freaky with your dude (or thaw out that sperm) and you're sure to get knocked up today!

Oh, wait a minute -- I forgot who I was talking to. You're one of those people who do those acronym things ... those IUIdoohickies or IVFamabobs or you pop those pills because you can't get pregnant like the normal people, right?

Ooh! You better watch out with that stuff, because I heard that my girlfriend's cousin's brother and his wife did that in vitro thing and they implanted four embryos but one split or something because now she's pregnant with FIVE babies! It's something like that, that chick out in California! How 'bout this joke - I heard that a restaurant in the hometown where she lives is serving up a new breakfast special. You get eight eggs, no sausage, and the person in the next booth pays for it.

HAHAHAHAHAHA! I crack myself up. Royally.

I have an idea! Maybe since you can't get pregnant, you can just adopt one of hers! I mean, she has enough to go around and adoption in general is easy, isn't it?


***crickets chirping***

What, did I say something?

It's also National Awkward Moment Day.

I'll just shut up and go eat some cookies now.

***************************************

Have an awkward moment to share? Here's one from me - yesterday one of the lunch ladies felt the need to get all nostalgiac about how small I used to be before I "had all those babies." That was ten years ago, woman. Why does it seem like she misses my non-flabby stomach and smaller stature more than I do? Then she proceeded to ask me about "that white baby" I had and whether or not I wished I could have brought him home. I spaced out for a moment amidst the fantasy of shoving a stalk of celery up her nose and following that with a carrot stick in the ear.

Thank you, Mutual of Omaha

I like seeing how people managed to land here in la casa loca de la Smart One. As I was just now taking my daily peek through StatCounter, I was mildly surprised to find this:

A little further down, I saw several entries which looked something like this, each one coming from a different location around the United States:

I clicked through to the ahamoment.com/pg/features link and found this:

That small victory that I said I felt the other night when I wrote this? I feel that again, except a little more. It's easy to deduce that someone at Mutual of Omaha has been assigned the task of trolling through the Internet to gather blog posts and articles that make mention of their current Aha Moments campaign. Infertility is not their priority, but they are clearly not afraid to treat infertility as an "untouchable" or an "unspeakable" as so many other businesses do.

I like the fact that whoever it was at Mutual that clicked through to this blog actually took a minute to read what I had to say and give it the title "Opening the Infertility Conversation." It's small steps like this that do exactly that -- open conversation about this oft-shadowed issue of infertility and bring it through to the minds of people who might otherwise have never stopped to consider infertility and how it impacts those who deal with it.

This post isn't about me. It's about how thus far, eleven other people have found my blog through the Aha Moments page. Maybe those other eleven are also dealing with infertility. Maybe they're not. Either way, word about infertility is getting around, and in a positive way. In their own small way, this campaign is helping make it known that regular, ordinary people deal with infertility and loss every day and that we have voices that need to be heard. We are not scandals to be gawked at or pawns to be used in heated backdoor political debates. Like anyone else, we are regular people just trying to find our way through some tough obstacles, and especially in light of recent infertility-related spotlight events, it feels good to be treated as such.

And for that, I have to thank Mutual of Omaha.

**********************************

I was neither paid or compensated in any manner for the above post, nor did I write this post with the intent to be compensated.

But uummm..to the Powers That Be at Mutual of Omaha, if you want to compensate me in some way for this gushy appreciation post, far be it from me to refuse. I'll even work for you part-time. Have you seen how I can work the Internet? Do you need someone else to troll for Aha! posts? The job qualifications can't be that difficult: MUST BE ABLE TO USE SEARCH ENGINES EFFECTIVELY. MUST SPEND ALL DAY ON THE COMPUTER. Check and double-check. Watch how I rock a wicked hyperlink.

Do you need a part-time writer? Have you seen my mastery of humor? How I can jerk a tear? How I can do both at the same time?

My email link is up there on the right. Click it. It's ^UP THERE.^ Or use this one: kyrajaATyahooDOTcom.

Dude, seriously.

I'm your gal.

Aha...

So, tonight I'm watching The Biggest Loser (and feeling like a big loser while eating a piece of vanilla buttercream cake) and had zoned off into my blank mindspace during a commercial break. Hearing the words infertility and had a miscarriage caused me to snap my eyes back to the television. In that same split second I thought, "Mention of infertility during a commercial? Huh?"

It was a commercial adaptation of this clip, which is part of Mutual of Omaha's latest campaign called "Aha Moments." In the online, extended version of this commercial, the speaker -- Heidi -- explains how she and her husband tried for years to conceive. In fact, the caption of her video is this quote: I wanted, more than anything, to be a mom. At 41.

Of course, the short story in the commercial has a happy ending conclusion. Good for her, I thought. I hope she's hugging her daughter Deryn right now and squeezes her a little tighter when she sees this commercial.

The word infertility likely didn't snap the typical viewer's attention like it did mine. But the word was said in prime time television and in a "normal" setting, not during a specialized program geared towards a targeted audience. To me, seeing this commercial felt like a small victory for the infertile community.

I didn't feel like quite as much of a loser as I did before.

Sock it to each other

You guys are awesome. There are just over 60 participants in the sock exchange, and it's even gone international with bloggers from Canada, Australia, and Japan playing along. This has been so much fun to organize and arrange, and I've had fun clicking around through blogs that were new to me. Check out the participant list and click through to a few of the blogs that you've never been to before. There are lots of wonderful voices to be heard there and a few who are new to the blogging community. If you are a participant and do not see your blog listed (or mention of your name if you are a non-blogger), please leave me a comment and I'll get you added to the list ASAP.

A special thank you and shout out goes to the roller derby sarcastic fantastic Nancy, whose last-minute sock exchange post and "killer" graphic design skills led to 12 new participants joining in yesterday.

Majority of the match information was sent out on Saturday afternoon. If you signed up late Saturday evening or on Sunday, your match information will be sent to you this evening. I did all of my sock correspondence through my Yahoo account, and the powers that be here at the school system have blocked out access to all free email accounts. Therefore, I have to wait until I get home this evening to send out the rest of the matches.

I looked all weekend for a pair of socks with a particular graphic on them and didn't find what I was looking for. Finally last night with a half-asleep spark of Aha!, I got the idea to look for iron-on patches of the graphic I wanted. I checked eBay and lo and behold, someone has a whole store of iron-on patches (who woulda thunk it!) and had 5 of the patches I wanted in-stock. I ordered two of them then went to search the sock websites for the perfect pair of striped knee socks. My sock buddy (who I will keep a secret until she gets her socks) will be the recipient of semi-homemade socks. I think even I can handle pressing an iron to a pair of socks.

So tell me - how's it going so far with your sock progress? Have you been to visit your sock buddy's blog yet? Found socks? Are you just having fun so far looking at various websites for funky socks?

I'm really excited about this project. Like ***JAZZ HANDS*** excited.

Sunday's To Do List

1. Wash the orange marker scribbles from Kaelyn's face despite the fact that she said her make-up is sooooo pretty.
2. Go to Savannah with Chance and Apollo to have last beta drawn.
3. Get coffee on the way there because Daylight Savings Time has us all draggin' ass.
4. Come home and eat the delicious barbecue food fares (namely, Tequila-Lime spare ribs) that Frank will prepare in our absence.
5. It will be over 80^o today, so perhaps we'll spread a bunch of blankets outside and have a picnic.
6. Email the last few entrants of the sock exchange. 
7. Search online for socks to send to my sock buddy.
8. Write lesson plans for the week. Debate on whether or not the objective "After being connected to remote control shock collars, the students will be able to exhibit proper behavior 100% of the class period and will also be able to demonstrate understanding of appositive, adjective, and adverb clauses with at least 75% accuracy" will be grounds to have me fired.
9. Wash the girls' hair.
10. Get Frank to cut the boys' hair.
11. Eat more barbecued chicken.
12. Watch Big Love and Flight of the Conchords.
13. Either fall asleep at a reasonable time or stay awake to start the first edition of the Chronic Insomniac Theater here at Smart One.

What's on your Sunday To Do List?

Three things...

Spinning off of the Sock-it-to-Me Exchange, Baby Smiling in the Backseat has an interesting and thought-provoking post up for today's installment of her Thoughtful Thursday series. If you haven't been reading along on her blog regularly (like me, because aye eeemmm stooopeeed for reasons which I will explain below), you have been missing out on some brilliant writing.  When I do make it over to her blog, without fail I am given reason to laugh (see her uterus cookie Show and Tell post) or pause to think, and those are the type of posts I enjoy the most. Please make a point to stop over and respond to her post today, because I'm looking forward to reading others' responses.

As for my stupidity, it's actually better described as pure laziness. I'm missing out on lots of good blog reading, especially from bloggers who I've read before simply because sometimes it seems too much like work to open up Google Reader and copy/paste new addresses to add blogs to my list. See what I mean? LAAAAZZZZYYYY. I'm much more inclined to add a blog to my reader if there's a handy little ADD ME TO YOUR READER or FOLLOW THIS BLOG link somewhere in the sidebar. So starting today, I'm taking off my lazy pants and putting on my hot damn, I'm efficient AND sexy pants and I'm updating my Google Reader and my blogroll.

If you're not on my blogroll and want to be and/or you want to be added to my reader and/or you think I should be reading you regularly and I'm not, please help me out by commenting here, being sure to include the link to your blog.

**********

Need Menopur or Bravelle? My sweetie-pie surro-friend Kimmy is donating some meds to me, but she also has 6 vials of Menopur and 7 vials of Bravelle that she'd like to donate to someone who needs it. Kimmy is another post-infertility surrogate like myself. You wanna talk about a superhero? She and her sister did a shared IVF cycle in which she was the ED. Her sister delivered twins and Kimmy delivered triplets. Kimmy went on to become a gestational surrogate and has delivered two sweet boys (a couple of years apart) for the same family. Simply amazing. She's still passing on the love by way of donated meds, so if you're in need of either Menopur or Bravelle, please comment or send me an email.

********

Semi-side note here: did anyone else other than me notice that last night's season premiere of America's Next Top Model was peppered with pregnancy/infertility/loss comments here and there? Twice someone asked if they planned on "having children" or "procreating," one contestant was hit with an unexpected prick of grief when asked if she had any children and had to explain that yes, she had a daughter but she had a seizure and died when she was a baby, and another contestant emphatically expressed that NO! she's not having children because the world is going straight to Hell.

My mindless television half-failed me last night, because my mind was regretfully half-refocused on the things from which I had tried to be momentarily distracted.

I probably am the only nut who noticed those things.

Yet another drive-by update

Cycle and med donations update: We are waiting to receive our calendars for our next cycle. I can't believe how much of a blur the last two weeks have been. I think I sort-of went into a type of brain-dead state when it came to the resolution of the last cycle. When our nurse coordinator called on Monday to give me the results of Sunday's beta (down to 7.1, not quite totally negative, repeat on Saturday), she asked how many days I bled. In my mind popped "five days," but when I did the math it came out to be 11 days. 11 days? What the hell did I even do on those 11 days? I hardly remember them from a uterine point of view. But yes -- it was 11 days and now it is done. Chance's CD 1 was yesterday, and now our cycles might be too close together for us to use this cycle as the starting cycle. Our nurse, Cari, is going to discuss the plan with Dr. Sleepy and get back to us hopefully today, because if we use this cycle I'll have to be completely negative by tomorrow, which means I'll have to go for another beta tomorrow instead of Saturday, because Chance has to start BCPs tomorrow if we're going to use this cycle. How's that for an unnecessary run-on sentence? So, we'll see - we'll either start now or at the beginning of April.

On the meds donation front: overwhelmed with gratitude ----> Chance and me. Here's how it went down: we need at least 4500 units of Follistim. Sweet Kate had 900 units to donate, but when she went to mail it she saw that it was three months expired. Dr. Sleepy is against using meds that far gone. So sad. (But Kate, please send me your address because we're still so, so very grateful.)

Then, several people said something to the effect of "Damn! No Follistim, but I have some Gonal-F that I could send if that's what you needed." Then someone put the bug in my hear that Follistim and Gonal-F are practically identical and might be able to be used interchangeably. Too impatient to wait until Monday to get the answer from our nurse, I cross-posted my question on each of the regional SIRM message boards and all of the REs -- the great and powerful Dr. Sher included -- said that the two meds are identical and if we had access to "free" Gonal-F, then it made no sense to pay for Follistim. One RE even compared the two to choosing between Ghiardelli and Godiva chocolates. Hmmmmkay.

So all of THAT being said - things are looking good on the meds front because Dr. Sleepy agreed with the SIRM docs. Dr. Sleepy said that to be safe, we should have enough for 14 days of stims at 450 units per day, for a total of 6300 units. We have been blessed to be given 4500 units from one blogger (THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!), so that leaves us with 1800 units of Gonal-F still needed. If you are able to donate, please comment or email me.

From other bloggers or surrogates we're also being sent: a total of 66 Vivelle patches (out of 70 needed), a complete 2-week Lupron kit, about 50 estrace pills, and 3 vials of PIO.

It's amazing, and we are humbled. When I started this blog over a year ago, I never would have guessed that it would result in a heaven-made match with Chance and Apollo and so many hands and hearts of support lifting us up. I must stop now. I might cry. And then my students will think that I've finally gone off the deep end. But we thank you all, more than my clumsy words could ever fully express.

Sock It to Me: Thanks to those of you who've signed up already! There are almost thirty participants thus far! If you'd like to participate and haven't signed up yet, be sure that you do so by this Friday, March 6. If you've emailed me to sign up and you haven't heard back from me yet, please either leave a comment here or try to email again. Sometimes my inbox eats emails, and I want to be doubly-sure that I don't miss anyone who wants to join in.

A couple of clarification points:

1. The exchange is open to ANYONE! I've had a couple of people tell me that they were hesitant to participate because they didn't feel "in" the community enough. ALL are invited to join in - everyone from those still in the struggle to those who moved on to other paths, to those who are now parenting after infertility. I even have a few surrogates on the list, as like me, they've placed themselves in the line of fire to help others achieve their dreams. So if you've been hesitating up to this point, hesitate no more - SIGN UP!
2. The person you send socks will not be the person who sends socks to you. This way, instead of making one new connection, everyone will make two new connections. I think it's more fun to have it jumbled up that way. 

Sock buddy information will be emailed to everyone after sign up closes and by this Sunday at the latest. I'm so excited about this!

Do you have no idea what Sock it to Me is? Click on that button over there up on the right to find out.

Georgia lawmakers are ready to lay down a heavy hand on IVF, thanks to Octomom:
I was determined not to say anything about the utter clusterfuck that is the Octomom and her nutzoid RE, but I'm being forced to do so. In a kneejerk reaction to the huge medical costs incurred by the state of California and its taxpayers for the care of the octuplets, a Georgia Senator has drafted two bills that will be presented on Thursday that if passed, will severely limit IVF procedures, gamete donation, and embryo adoption here. I first heard about this on Murgdan's blog last night and I am outraged. I'm sure she won't mind if I copy and paste the information directly from her site:

The Georgia Senate Health & Human Services Committee will hold a hearing on two bills: SB 169 and SB 204 this Thursday, March 5, at 9:00 AM in Room 450 of the State Capitol. At the hearing, the committee will hear testimony on the bills.

Georgia Reproductive Specialists along with other Atlanta fertility clinics, RESOLVE and the American Society for Reproductive Medicine (ASRM) oppose both of the bills. The hearing is open to the public and you are encouraged to attend the hearing and send a letter to the Committee members before Thursday. Senate Bill 169 would restrict doctors' ability to perform IVF in accordance with best medical standards.

Here are the key provisions:

• No more than 2 or 3 eggs could ever be fertilized in a cycle; if a woman produced more eggs, they still could not be used.
• Only 2 embryos could ever be transferred to the uterus, unless the woman is age 40 or over (then a max of 3).
• No extra embryos could be cryopreserved. If they are created, they have to be transferred.
• No financial relief, such as insurance coverage, is proposed to help with the added financial burden of using less effective treatment. Patients will still have to pay out of pocket for less effective treatment.
• Bans all financial compensation for donor gametes, such as egg donor, sperm donor, or embryo donation, which would reduce the pool of available donors in Georgia.

SB 204/HB388 is an embryo adoption bill. It would subject embryo donation to all the same provisions as required by law for adoption of a child. This would subject infertility patients needing an embryo donation to go through the judicial proceedings, home visits, and other procedures required for an adoption. We do not believe that such treatment is appropriate or needed for embryo donation.

If you care about open access to the best care possible to let the Committee members know before Thursday that you oppose these two bills.

If you live in Georgia and you want to contact the members of this committee, you can send a letter through this RESOLVE site. Click here for more information.

Georgia citizen or not, PLEASE consider sending each of the committee members a letter in opposition to the two bills TODAY. We have to do what we can to keep some assclown politician from further limiting already limited childbearing options in infertiles.

Drive by to the Drive by: I thank ALL of my bloggy friends for the love and support shown to us, we still need 1800 units of Gonal-F if you are able to donate, Sock-it-to-Me is open to everyone and the sign up ends on Friday, March 6, and please email the assclowns on the Senate committee so that Georgian infertiles aren't limited any more than they already are.

Over and out.

Honestly scrapped with a side of Sesame

I was given the Honest Scrap Award by at least three different bloggers sometime within the past two weeks when I was hiding under the blog with my covers over my head. I'll be damned if I can remember who gave it to me. I want to do that post and pass it on, but I want to give credit where credit is due and link back to the three bloggers who gave it to me. I also need to pass on the Lemonade Stand Award, but I know that Kristin gave that one to me; I distinctly remember crying over that one. So, if you're one of the three who gave the Honest Scrap, can you let me know who you are? I know -- I suck.

Speaking of Kristin, she has a post up about a warning label on flashback Sesame Street DVD (WTF???). Kristin put up a YouTube clip of one of her favorite Sesame Street clips and asked for others to do the same. I posted the links in her comments, but I wanted to put them here, too, just because I can. And Grover is funny.

This is one of my all-time favorites -- Grover as the waiter and Simon the Sound Guy:

 

Smokey Robinson and the rather annoying, stalkerish orange Letter U with "You Really Got a Hold on Me":

The Ladybug Picnic:

The Oinker Sisters with "New Way to Walk"

And who doesn't love the Pinball Counting animation sequences?

Does anyone other than me remember Nickelodeon's Danger Mouse and Bananaman? Would it be so hard to get some old reruns of Fraggle Rock going? I watched an episode of the new Electric Company last week and I was pleasantly pleased to see that they stuck to some of the old basics, like the shadow-profile-people breaking words down into phonics:

Left person: SH
Right person: IT
Both together: SHIT!

That's good stuff.

So tell -- what are your favorite old school TV shows?

Burned through the fire

When I set out to find intended parents (IPs), I did not seek to find someone who could qualify as "best friends." I have friends, and I was not looking for my intended parents to fill some sort of friend-void. I did seek to find a couple who I felt that I could consider friends and people with whom, when everything was said and done, I could continue to have at least a friendly relationship, that if I emailed just to say hello, those emails would not go unanswered. Before agreeing to match, I needed to feel that my IPs cared about me as a regular person and not only me as means to have their child.

My overall surrogacy journey has been anything but easy:

• 1st IPs (Sarah and Paul): 1 FET, chemical (positive tests, negative beta)

• 2nd IPs (Stephanie and Terry): 1 IVF resulting in Sam

• 3rd IPs (Mia and Urs): 1 IVF - negative, 2nd IVF - chemical (2 good betas, then downhill from there)

• 4th IPs (Chance and Apollo): 1st IVF - beta hell again, u/s shows nothing; 2nd and final IVF coming up soon.

Despite the grim track record, I've been blessed to have had four wonderful, amazing, caring sets of intended parents with whom I am honored to have lasting, ongoing relationships. I can truly call them all my friends, which is a word that I don't use lightly. Baby or not, good times or bad, I know that I'm am so lucky to have been matched four times over with IPs who didn't discard me the way some surrogates painfully have been discarded. Was I expecting to have developed such deep, ongoing relationships? No. Not to this level. I did think that we'd remain on friendly terms, but developing new extensions of my family was not expected, and I know how very blessed I am to have that.

As I thought about it more, it begged a question that I posed to my fellow surrogates on Surrogate Mothers Online - as a surrogate, what is more important to you - the ability to have a baby for your IPs or the ability to have an ongoing relationship with your IPs?

I realized that it was a difficult question, as when you get right down to it, no baby brought into this world is ever not worth the effort it took to get them here. Also, as surrogates, we idealistically hope and expect that we don't have to have one over the other. No surrogate should ever be in a position to have to pick and choose between the two factors. We hope that our relationships with our IPs is symbiotic and smooth, in that we can work together cooperatively as a unit and are able to deliver a healthy child or children. One should not be exclusive of the other.

However, unfortunately we know that that is not always the case. Looking ONLY at my situation, do I wish that I would have been able to achieve a healthy pregnancy and carry it to term for each of my IPs? Yes. Of course I do. I can't help but view my relationships with all of my IPs as my silver lining: I may not have been able to have their babies (except Sam), but at least I had and have wonderful relationships with my IPs. There is that, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

And I can't help but view the converse of that and wonder - would I rather have had it the other way around? What if I HAD been able to achieve healthy pregnancies but was discarded before or after delivery? I'm sure I'd think, I may have had terrible relationships, but at least I was able to bring those babies into the world. There is that, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

So holding the two frames of thinking side-by-side -- if given the two options as a choice,  if there was no in between, no happy, symbiotic medium - what would I choose? Which would I prefer? And resoundingly, I can't help but know that in my heart, I'd rather have walked my path of having had 1 out of 5 transfers work and come out on the other end with just one surrobaby (so far, prayerfully), but be richer with 4 sets of intended parents that I can truly consider family.

I also posted a poll in the thread in which I asked my question. The poll is still open and people are still voting, but there is approximately an even split between which of the two extremes surrogates would prefer if only given those two options on the type of journey to experience. The people who voted to have delivered a baby but end up with a terrible or non-existent relationship with their intended parents are generally of the mindset that they came into surrogacy to help a couple have a baby, not to make friends. It is a point that I agree with wholeheartedly even though for my situation, I personally voted for the other option. Many of the people who voted have a baby/no relationship wondered why anyone would rather choose to be left with a good relationship but no child delivered via surrogacy. I can't answer for the other surrogates who chose alongside me, but here is my personal rationale:

Given the fact that I have experienced my own infertility journey, I view being a surrogate as going back into the flames when I've made it out. I'm choosing to return to the world of uncertainty, of fear, of pain both emotional and physical. Even though I knew what I was getting into, after my first attempt at surrogacy ended in a chemical, it damn near killed me. I wasn't just dealing with the too-familiar feeling of failure again; I was also dealing with a thick, cloying layer of guilt. That aspect was new to me, and it is also no stranger to other surrogates who find themselves in similar unfortunate situations. It took a while to rebound mentally from that, and I returned to surrogacy only after I knew I could better compartmentalize my experience with infertility from the voluntary infertility that one accepts when she assumes the role of surrogate. Most surrogates don't know enough to view it as a type of voluntary infertility, and some surrogates never do learn enough to make that connection. It is only after failed transfers, miscarriages, preterm deliveries, and other tragedies happen that that knowledge is gleaned. It is no lesson anyone should have to learn, but painfully, we all know that there are those of us who have learned far too much.

Given all of that, there is no way in hell I would consciously choose to go through all of that, to go willingly back into these hellish fires for someone who would in the long run, would choose to discard me like used tissue. Perhaps it is selfish of me to think like that, but it is what it is. I wouldn't put myself through this for just anyone.

Sadly, there is no way for a surrogate, or intended parent for that matter, to know at the start of a journey how the relationship will evolve through the journey and beyond. We make the best decisions we can at the start and hope that our first impressions of our counterparts are our true impressions. Unfortunately, there are many surrogates and IPs who are mislead. The person they matched with is not the person they end up with at the conclusion of a journey. Speaking now only from the surrogate angle, there are surrogates who had wonderful relationships before and during pregnancy, but as soon as the baby was in the arms of its parents, the surrogates were shut out completely. It is understood that the relationship changes drastically after the delivery. The need to communicate as often isn't there and there is always an adjustment period as everyone settles into their new roles and the way things will be now that the baby has arrived. But to not receive an answer to a friendly email? To never see even a picture of the child they carried? To never even get so much as a thank you? It happens. Sometimes it happens at great cost to the surrogate.

Theirs is a side that needs to be heard, because unfortunately, not everyone has been as blessed as I've been to have relationships which grew far beyond the bonds of a typical intended parent/surrogate relationship.

Surrospark

This afternoon at the end of a rather hellacious day in the not-so-dangerous minds that are my 8th graders, I sat down to check my email and was left a blubbering, snot-dripping fool by a message I had received from a newbie surrogate named Angie. I immediately wrote her back and among other things, asked if I could copy and past her email here. This is not to brag (not entirely, anyway), but  rather to speak to the power that our blogs can have.

Though it's not a novel thought, lately I've been completely in awe of how strong the ties that bond can be from blogger to blogger (I consdier lurkers bloggers, too). Chance and Apollo are here and I am carrying what could ultimately be their child* -- knowing that this amazing relationship which has grown to be an expansion of my family began with a simple post on niobe's blog... well, it's just breathtakingly overwhelming.

Through our screens, we become intertwined and immersed in others' lives, finding ourselves relating to these familiar strangers more than we relate to some of the people we've known our whole lives. Connections are made. Lifelines are thrown. Hands are held. Journeys are begun. And if we're lucky, we can feel ourselves becoming better people because of it.

Thank you, Angie, for giving a greater purpose to my writing. Get that blog up and running, girl. There's only so much you can get out on SMO, and I want to be all in your bizzness about your upcoming cycle! You are an inspiration, and I can tell that you will be a wonderful surrogate.

Hi Kym,

My name is Angie and I am a new member of the SMO board. I wanted to share this with you, instead of posting it on the board, because I didn't know how you would feel about me singling you out. I have been reading your blog lately, and just wanted to share my feelings. I tried to keep the "creepy stalker vibe" to a minimum, haha. I really enjoy reading your writing and wanted to express my gratitude for it. Sooooo, this was intended orginially for the SMO board. I just copied it word for word and pasted it here. I'm not good with words, but I think I got my message across. Without further ado:

After carefully considering my options as to where the best place to post this thread should be, I decided to post it here under the "Uplifting Stories and Poems". Not because I have something uplifting to share, but because I am new and found what I think to be one of the most uplifting and heartwarming journies I have ever had the pleasure of reading right here on SMO. I wanted to share it with everyone, and extend my appreciation and admiration for this person and her wonderful story.

Since making the decision to become a surrogate, SMO has been my lifeline and comfort (and even sometimes an indulgence). I came across Kym's blog one evening while doing my ritual browsing of the SMO site.  I began reading her "Home" page and was immediately sucked in by the offbeat humor. Since that night, I've sorta lurked around her blog from time to time, and finally (because I am computer stupid) figured out that there was an archives section and began reading Kym's blog from the very beginning. Last night, I read from February 2008-April 2008. I just finished May this morning.

There were many times when I hit the reply button to an entry she posted nearly a year ago, but chickened out for whatever reason. I have laughed, cried, laughed until I cried, cringed and felt every other emotion under the sun one hormonal, soon to be "bellymommy" (knock on wood) could have in one day. Anyone who has read an entry knows the articulation she possesses. The knack she has for converting feelings and situations into masterfully worded perfection. Reading her blog is like finding a book series that cannot be put down once picked up, and I cannot wait for the next volume to hit the proverbial shelves.

For those of you who have not had the chance, go on over and check out Kym's blog. I am sure you will find it nothing less than fantastic.

Kym, I want to thank you for sharing your adventures via your blog . I am hooked. I sorta feel like you are a IF/surrogate/parenting mascot. You speak often of how the media negatively portrays surrogacy. I believe that if one of those New York Times hot shots sat down with you, your family, and your surrobaby for an hour and read your blog, they may have an entirely different perspective to share. Surrogacy is a huge decision. It can be scary and make one feel like you're alone sometimes. Your words shed heavenly light and for me, solidified this as something that I was meant to do. I belong here, doing this, at this time and for these reasons. It's a good feeling to have, especially for those of us who have really never had a clear path in life :) You are truly an inspiring individual, and I hope (I know, not a word that you use loosely) I have even half of your "surrospark" on my journey.


Keep writing, Kym! You have one more #1 fan :)

Thanks,
-Angie

*You have no idea how much my finger-trembling and stomach-lurching it took to type that statement. We have a 30% chance of it turning out that way. Instead of feeling jinxed by claiming the favorable odds, I'm going to try to own it and throw all my weight behind it. I want the ladybug onesie story for us.

ATTENTION FERTILES: Do not buy these onesies as gifts for babies of your infertile friends

I'm sitting here trying not to think about what's shakin' in my and Chance's girlie parts, so as a distraction, I'm trolling around on various Websites looking for a gift for a certain blogger's brand new baby via surrogacy. With my quirky and sophomoric sense of humor, I do love a onesie with a totally inappropriate saying printed on the front. However, I ran across a few that while meant to be funny (for a typical fertile), did nothing but nag at my infertile cringe-bone.

And so I present to you, the Top 5 Onesies NOT to Buy for an Infertile Friend's Baby:

Fertiles, I'm talking to YOU. Seriously, don't do it:

 "Now that I'm born, I'm not as expensive" might be more appropriate, or perhaps "Born expensive, STILL expensive" might work.

 Don't even think about this one if there was a sperm donor involved. Buying this shirt most certainly will get your ass kicked. 

 

Hey Fertile Fanny - do NOT let this shirt be the punchline of all those nasty comments you made to your infertile friend about egg donation, sperm donation, embryo donation, or adoption, hmmmkay?

If you're not 100% sure that conception didn't take place "the old fashioned way," do not buy this shirt. Putting out doesn't always result in putting in a baby.

And the biggest no-no of them all...

What the fizzle? Are you implying that if a woman has suffered a miscarriage, stillbirth, or neonatal loss that it was because she did something wrong?

If you're an infertile or a parent after infertility, what's the stupidest thing someone ever said to you?

Mel, Mel, she's so swell!

That cheer totally sucked, but the great and powerful Mel of Stirrup Queens, does not. Like the phrase Jen used in the button she created for the cause, Mel rocketh like no other.

Most of you who read here are probably aware of the fact that our mother hen of the ALI blogosphere is a finalist for the Weblog Awards. I'm joining in on the campaign to urge you to vote everyday between now and January 13. Click on the button to place your vote for Mel. Everyday. You can even vote more than once per day if you use different computers or different IP addresses. Didja know that?

Almost a year ago when I started this blog, I had no idea that there was such a vast, organized network of infertility blogs. I don't remember exactly how I stumbled upon Mel's place, but I can clearly remember the thought that crossed my mind as I immersed myself in Stirrup Queens - I am home. Finally, I felt like there was a place for me. Before that moment, I always felt misplaced. Rather, I felt noplaced. I didn't feel exactly right in typical pregnancy and parenting communities. I had participated in such virtual environments before, but never felt like the infertile thoughts that ran through my mind would be understood. Though internally I had more in common with and felt more comfortable in infertility communities, I didn't feel exactly right in those areas, either. After all, eventually, I went on to have two, then three, then four kids. On Clomid. On the infertility spectrum, I got off easy (not bragging here, just stating a fact). So I went through the years feeling stuck in this nowhere land between one extreme and the other.

Until I found Stirrup Queens. In this community she pulled together, I could wear my scarlet letter and not have to hide it. I could also be a mother and not have to hide that, either. I could share my surrogacy. I could be all shades of me and there would be people there who welcomed, who understood, who encouraged. 

I don't know how Mel keeps up with everything that she does, but I for one, am eternally grateful for it. Show your gratitude by voting for Mel and by encouraging others to post about voting on their blogs. It's the least that we can do for her.

By the way, have you pre-ordered Mel's book yet? Run, don't walk to order your copy of Navigating the Land of IF: Understanding Infertility and Exploring Your Options. The release date is June 1, and it's the first book on my summer reading list.

Fo' shizzle

I wish that I had the energy and motivation to write a more eloquent post, but I don't. I'm tired and in denial that the students start school again tomorrow. Boohiss. As exhausted as I feel, I didn't want to clonk out without updating about today's lining check and sharing a couple of other interesting tidbits.

Chance and I met for breakfast this morning before the appointment at the semi-famous, but quaint Clary's Cafe in the historic district of Savannah. It was prominent in the movie Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, but who really cares about cinema nostalgia when there's a big plate of French toast stuffed with cream cheese and strawberries with whipped cream sitting in front of you?

The appointment - not stellar, but not hell in a handbasket, either. I have another pocket of fluid and my lining only measured 6. Through the years I've had four other transfer cycles and one mock cycle, and in each of those my lining measured anywhere from 9 to 14 at the check. I'm only mildly concerned. When I had the fluid in the first cycle with Mia, it resolved itself before transfer. The current pocket of fluid is MUCH smaller than the last - at least by half. I don't doubt that it will be gone by the time we get to transfer.

The lining on the other hand - blech. I've never had an issue with that before, and I surely don't want to start now. Even before talking to my nurse coordiator a few hours later, I only had a minor spazzniption before my rational mind told my crazy mind to calm the fuck down. My nurse confirmed what I had already told myself - my estrogen levels are fine, so there is no need to increase to five Vivelle patches or add in any supplementary forms of estrogen. There are still at least 9 to 10 days before retrieval, so we have about two weeks before we get to transfer. That's plenty of time for my lining to thicken up. Chryl (her name is really spelled like that) reassured me that they weren't the least bit concerned and had every confidence that my uterus would behave. Then she called me "sugar pie" and I immediately wanted nothing more than to eat a sugar cookie the size of my face. Ahem. All in all -- I'm not very worried and I also think that my lining will be just where it needs to be for the transfer. I really could have done without this particular screwball, though.

In other news, I've been asked to be a featured blogger on Wellsphere in the Pregnancy and Fertility Community. Huzzah! I don't have all of the details yet, but my entries will likely go up on the Website (am I the only post-Grad school freak who still capitalizes Web, Website, and Internet?) soon after I submit them. They'll post copies of entries that I've already posted here, which caters to my procrastination and laziness. Maximum exposure. Minimum effort. Chuckle.

Finally: XXXLXV -- one picture everyday for the next year. Why? Because I won't be able to lie to myself, it'll keep me honest. Time somtimes has a way of dulling the extraordinary and overexaggerating the mundane. A snapshot from each day will help me remember the moment as it was.

Finally, seriously -- Nip/Tuck, anyone?

Okay, one more thing -- way back from lunch today, my work partner in crime and I passed by this in the school parking lot:

Who in the hell thought that shit up? Pun totally intended. I laughed my ass off as we passed by and I made Carrie drive back around so I could take these pictures.

Then Carrie said, "You have to go back and take a picture of that bucket!" So here's the bucket:

I don't even want to imagine why someone might need a bucket of shit. Do they not even bother to rinse that sucker out? 

Yes, we did look like a couple of idiots taking pictures of the shit machine. 

That's some funny shit.

ICLW Intro and drive-by update

I'm a Smart One 101 for ICLW'ers:
I am Kym - I blog about being a mom, wife, and teacher, but mostly about being a gestational surrogate.
Children? I have four, all conceived on Clomid. Add in my nephew who we're raising and you get el Cinco.
Love my husband Frank. We've been married for 12 years and together for 15. He cooks hella good food.
Waiting impatiently for the mid-January transfer for my friends and intended parents, Chance and Apollo.

If you're a newbie to the land of the Smart (Ass) One, tell me a few things about yourself in the comments and I'll be sure to make a visit to your blog today. I'm sure I'll make it to visit you at some point in time this week, anyway. I have no reason NOT to make Iron Commenter this week, seeing as I have a blessed two weeks off from work.

I have a few random posts clogging my mind that I didn't have the time to fling into cyberspace in the last couple of weeks. Those will be making their way out over the next few days, but in the meantime, here's a classic drive-by update:

• PCOS is a bitch. Now THERE'S a revelation. Even regulated by BCPs, my stupid period still showed two days late, starting today when it should have started the day before yesterday. In the long run of things it's not a big deal and doesn't throw off our schedule in any way, but the frustration of my screwy cycles just had to be voiced. It would have been nice not to have spent the last couple of days half flipped out over the concern that my period would not start on its own. AGAIN. Thankfully, all is well now on the uterine front and hopefully this is the last period I will have to worry about for a very, very long time.
•  Apollo and Chance paired with me and Frank make a kick-ass team playing Cranium. Last night we waxed the team comprised of my mom, sisters, and father. Like me, Apollo is a fountain of useless trivia. There was no hope for the other team.
• Speaking of hope -- I haz it. I'm actually starting to freak myself out a little. I don't have a problem with my head being in the clouds, but only if my feet stay on the ground. Firmly. But there's a certain lightness that I can't deny, like the gravity (grave-ity?) of the situation isn't working half as hard as it did in the last journey. Even if I didn't realize it then, in retrospect I can see that I practically trudged through the last journey, my fears and doubts dragging like a ball and chain behind me. This time, I find that I feel more attached to my hopes and dreams than to my fears and doubts. Pardon the incoming corn (there's just no way around it), but my hopes are like a kite, soaring high above any negativity. It's pulling me along, wanting to go higher, but I reel it in and keep it tethered with a stretch of realism and plain old infertility-honed skepticism. Ball and chain or kite? I'll take the kite for a high and doubling beta please, Alex.
• Niobe and Antigone - so soon. 
• Please pay a visit to Living, Loving, Giving and welcome her to blogland. She's a friend and colleague of mine who is embarking on a journey of her own as a gestational surrogate.

Today's Lupron headache has landed, so I'm going to soothe it with a Krispy Kreme and sleep it off. I'll be catching up on blog reading and commenting now that the rush has slowed down into an lazy pace.

Drive-by updates

Occasionally I get so busy that I don't have time to write a coherent and flowing blog post but have a lot to say. What you end up with, Dear Reader, is a wham-bam-thank you, m'am update. Here we go:

• Chance and Apollo will be here in SIX days! Freakin' out now, in a good way, of course. They'll make it to their rental in the Savannah area on Sunday and will likely make it out to my house to meet the crazies a week from today.
• Tomorrow through Friday I will be out of the classroom on professional leave to attend a major national middle school conference/workshop in Savannah. Get busy, no students! Shake your booty, no students! One one hand, this is awesomeness. On the other, I'm afraid that my 8th grade hoodlums will burn down the classroom walls and start WWIII while I'm gone. 
• I might have random blog posts and commenting through this week because I will be going ballistic with cleaning areas that haven't been touched in months like walls and windows. I will be reading along, though but forgive me if I don't comment as much in the coming days.
• Chance and Apollo will be here in SIX days! Aaaaaah!
• There is a small chance that we MIGHT NOT get to cycle, even though I'm supposed to start Lupron on Saturday. There was a hang up last week with Chance's CD3 b/w and she wasn't able to have her labs drawn until CD5. Dr. Sleepy said we could still cycle if her CD5 estrogen levels were still low. The trouble is is that her b/w results are all tied up in a bunch of unnecessary red tape hoopla, and we won't know for sure if we're cycling now until those results come in. Hopefully Chance will be able to get the results by the time she and Apollo leave home at the end of the week. Good vibes, fingers crossed, and all that jazz are welcome.
• Did I mention that Chance and Apollo will be here in SIX days?
• Though Kaelyn was running a low-grade fever on Wednesday, she didn't present with any other symptoms and after the first dose of Motrin, her fever didn't return. Kyra, Jaiden, and Jordan stayed home from school last Thursday and Friday. By Friday morning they were bouncing off the walls, but we kept them home because they had not been fever-free for 24 hours yet. Saturday and Sunday they were all without fever. "YES!" I thought, "We're healthy again!" Wrong. Kaelyn popped a high fever yesterday and went from the Big! Scary! Monster! to "I don't feel good and my head is sick so can you lay down wif me and watch Drake and Josh wif me?" Then Jordan woke up this morning with a return of his fever and a headache so bad that it brought him to tears. Needless to say, Frank is now somewhere between here and the pediatrician's office with Jordan and Kaelyn in tow. *sigh* I'd much rather have them running around wrecking shop than having them languid and sick like this. 
• Frank has been experimenting with his big ass cookie recipe. Last week he mixed in a couple of bananas and added in a bit more flour and baking soda, then also some chocolate and vanilla chips. What he got was a sort of puffed-up, moist cookie-like banana bread. With coffee, hot chocolate, or tea, those bananacookiebreadwhateveryoucallits are absolutely divine.
• Just this week and next week before Winter Break! Wheeee!!!
• Thanks again to all of you who left a message for Christian either here or on his CaringBridge website. He hasn't had ANY reactions to his first IVIG treatment and people are already remarking on how much healthier he looks!
• Question - when I switched over to TypePad's new commenting system, did you have to register? My homegirl Wishy-Wish has been having issues with commenting and wants to know if you HAVE to register to be able to post a comment. I didn't think you had to, but maybe you guys did and I just don't know it.

Later this evening - check back in for a post with pictures about yesterday's yearly trip to the tree farm.

cursing = jolly good fun

What's your favorite curse word? Though I make liberal use of swear words here in this little blog of mine, in real life (I don't get the phrase "in real life"? Isn't this blog real? Aren't you - my friends inside the computer - real? Whatever.) I'm not much of a pottymouth. A few oh shits! and a couple of I'll be damneds sprinkled in for good measure is the usual extent of my cursing. However, I have an affinity for well-placed curse words, especially if they're of the creative variety.

Shitfire. Fuck-a-duck. Assclown has always been a favorite, but today fellow surrogate Delores Melon referred to her husband as an asstard and I nearly asphyxiated from laughing so hard. Yesterday I found the gem fucknuttery on someone's blog and I could have bowed down before the awesome magnificence of it. Fucknuttery. It rolls off the tongue as smooth as butter. In context: The photos in the recent New York Times article about surrogacy was pure fucknuttery. Brilliance.

Do tell - what curse words do you enjoy, whether they be simple or embellished? Is there a difference in how much cussin' you between your blog and "real life"?

NYT surrogacy article review

Tash was kind enough to send me the link to an article about surrogacy in the New York Times. Titled "Her Body, My Baby***," the article was written by journalist Alex Kuczynski about her personal surrogacy journey as an intended mother. Most articles about surrogacy are written from an impersonal, objective perspective by reporters who are merely writing for a.) shock value or b.) a lopsided, skewed attempt to "educate" the masses. I always begin reading articles about surrogacy with my hackles slightly raised in the defensive. Though in my opinion the article started off on the wrong foot (barefoot, in fact - I slay myself), I ultimately liked it.

I don't particularly like Mrs. Kuczynski. Before I'd even read the first sentence, my impression of her was tainted. The two accompanying photos are so loaded with implied insults and stereotypes that I almost didn't want to read the article.               

Photo One                                                   Photo Two
        

Photo One: On her ramshackle front porch, here sits gestational surrogate Cathy, almost full-term with Alex's baby boy. Does anyone else notice the "barefoot and pregnant" statement present, as if to say that's all she's good for?

Photo Two: In front of her Tara-esque home, here stands journalist Kuczynski (in stylish designer sandals) with her baby boy Max. Her front porch is pristine and the grounds well-manicured. And Lawdy, me! She has a baby nurse who looks like she was plucked fresh off the cotton fields!

Excuse me for a moment while I go put my shoes on and sweep off my porch. 

Given the fact that Kuczynski is a writer for the Times, I'm sure she had to have some creative control over the photos used and she surely had control over whether or not to include Mammy Dearest in her photo. For the record, thought it's not my particular parenting style, I don't have a problem with baby nurses or nannies. However, if one of the purposes of the article was to cast surrogacy in a better light, these were not the photos to do the job. Though neither women fit the stereotyped (and incorrect) profiles of surrogates and intended parents, the staging of these pictures seem to underline the negative impressions that much of the general public has of surrogacy. 

Some of Kuczynski's comments about her surrogate I think were intended to be humorous, but instead bordered on condescension: "And her computer-generated essay indicated, among other things, a certain level of competence. This gleaned morsel of information made me glad: she must live in a house with a computer and know how to use it." Admittedly, if all other things were equal, I'd choose Profile A over Profile B if A was typed and B was handwritten. With this comment and a few others, it just seems that Kuczynski had an initial notion that women who present themselves as surrogates weren't as competent or intelligent as she expected them to be. Despite this, it seemed that Alex and Cathy (and their families) had a friendly relationship.

No - I would not be friends with, nor do I think I'd carry for a woman like Kuczynski. However, I appreciate her honesty and openness with recounting her infertility struggles. 11 IVFs, 4 miscarriages, and a diagnosis of unexplained infertility made surrogacy an appealing option for becoming a mother. Though not all intended mothers process their emotions about the journey differently, I noticed some typical feelings and concerns. She worried that she was missing out on some important bonding and mother-development because she was not the one experiencing the pregnancy. She experienced some envy of Cathy's pregnancy. She wondered if she could truly call herself a full mother. She fielded negative comments from friends:

I least expected jealousy. This from women who looked at me with tight smiles and said, “Well, thank God you didn’t have to give birth to that huge child!” Or, glumly: “You’re so lucky. Pregnancy is overrated.” One announced to a table of people at a dinner party: “My God, Alex. You’ve really gotten away with some stuff in your life. But this takes the cake!” It was as if I had performed some slimy trick and was still able to have my ticket stamped “Mother.”

I felt for Kuczynski. Her candor was refreshing; it's not often that you hear intended mothers openly discuss their insecurities. She is believable; even in the smoothest of situations, surrogacy (and infertility in general, for that matter) can be fraught with difficult internal and external struggles. I was pleased to see that she did not gloss over those issues, and even more pleased to know that surrogacy ended well for her. 

***If you choose to click through and read the article, you will likely have to complete a quick and free registration to NYT Online. Also, as of the time that I published this entry, there were 370 comments on the article. As with any articles written about surrogacy and/or infertility, vast majority of the comments are nasty and full of typical shit like, "Why don't you just adopt". I haven't dared to read them all (and refuse to), but my blood pressure hit DEFCON level orange by the 5th comment. Consider yourself warned. If you read the article, I'd love to hear your thoughts about it. Let's discuss it in my comments.

I heart these fab, non-silent, friendly superhero bloggers who kick ass brilliantly

This post has been sitting in my drafts since I first started it early September. I had received my first blog award from Sara at Somewhat Lower and I was thrilled. Then I posted about everything except my blog award. Then I got more awards, and more, then a couple more. Each time I was given another award, I came back and did more work to this post. This is not me bragging - this is me hanging my head in shame for taking so long to pass on these awards. So, consider this the Bloggies, because there are eight different awards being passed on, all in this very post. I am extremely grateful to those of you who passed these blog awards on to me; I am honored to receive them.

I'm going to start by passing on a few more Red Cape Awards. Y'know, those Red Cape Awards that I created? Me, myself, and I? NOW I'm bragging. The people I've passed them on to are brag-worthy.

Pamela Jeanne of Coming 2 Terms: for being such a clear voice on one of the less talked-about angles of infertility - life after making the decision to live child-free. I learn a lot there and she always slows me down to stop and think.

Nancy of The New Life of Nancy: No one can unleash "schnarky daggers" like she can.

Io of Who Shot My Stork?: I want Io and A to come eat cookies with me. Well, I want Frank and A to cook for Io and me while the two of us knock back drinks and moo like the cows that we are.

Chicklet of Bloorb:  Frank and I are not the only ones who have conversations like this. She tells good stories and uses capitals for emphasis liberally like THIS which I think is pretty FUNNY, DOOD! I owe her a story for a meme she tagged me for, so I'll probably pay up tomorrow for Mel's Show & Tell.

Tash of Awful but Functioning: it's hard to weave 5,000 different emotions into a single post or comment, but you do. And you turned Frank and me on to Smitten Kitchen. My taste buds and the girth of my ass thanks you.

Jendeis of Sell Crazy Someplace Else and Shelli of BagMomma: neither of them know this, but each of them wrote particular posts within the past month that touched me deeply and helped me feel not so alone when I was feeling toilety down in the bad place. They're heroes in my book for speaking so candidly about their feelings. Both of you helped at least one person, so thanks for that.

The original Red Cape Award post and instructions for passing it along are here.

Goddess, Bless This Blog Award from Anymommy/Stacey

Who doesn't need extra prayers? I'll take them from anywhere I can get them - except if you have three sixes burned in your scalp and your prayers include the words Beezelbub, Antichrist, or sacrifice. 

Good goddess vibes are being sent to:

Luna of Life from Here ~ in the hopes that her path and that of her future child's birthmother will cross soon.

Lexy of Stoopid Monkeys ~ Lexy is recovering from the loss of triplets. She's in my thoughts and prayers as she grieves and moves ahead with surrogacy. 

Io of Who Shot My Stork ~ Hey God, Goddess, Universe, Whoever is listening - cut my girl a break, please. 

charmedgirl of A Charmed Life? ~ because of that thing that's coming up

Brilliante Blogger Awards: from Eva at The Egg Drop Post

Wishy-Wish of Wishing4One - another IVF attempt in Egypt and one of the coolest bloggers out there. Stay tuned to her blog and send some magic to her.

Alicia of Pieces of Me - shoes, shoes, shoes - Little Twink is going to be a shoe fiend just like her mommy.

Nikki of Our roller coaster ride through infertility and more - I'm always in awe of her posts and it seems like a lot of our though patters are parallel to one another. Hugs to you my friend, on this day. 

Sara of Somewhat Lower: The whole of her is brilliant; this post in particular is just one example. Bacon for the Egg - that's my hope. 

Kristin of The Fertile Infertile: She's crafty and warm and witty and kind and I just love her.

I Heart Your Blog from Amber at Between the Lines

To claim this most prestigious of prizes you have to answer a meme of sorts, this one with one word answers. You also have to pass it along to SEVEN other bloggers. And so:

1. Where is your cell phone? purse
2. Where is your significant other? wii
3. Your hair color? brown
4. Your mother? movies
5. Your father? California
6. Your favorite thing? laughter
7. Your dream last night? Ed McMahon (???)
8. Your dream/goal? lottery
9. The room you're in? kitchen
10. Your hobby? blogging
11. Your fear? planes
12. Where do you want to be in six years? home
13. Where were you last night? stuffed
14. What you're not? hungry
15. One of your wish list items? books
16. Where you grew up? everywhere
17. The last thing you did? wrote
18. What are you wearing? pj's
19. Your T.V.? wii
20. Your pet? Spunky
21. Your computer? attached
22. Your mood? hopeful
23. Missing someone? always
24. Your car? battlewagon
25. Something you're not wearing? bra
26. Favorite store? BarnesandNoble
27. Your Summer? sucked
28. Love someone? fiercely
29. Your favorite color? red
30. When is the last time you laughed? now
31. Last time you cried? today

Passing it on to:

Danielle - Life induces thoughts, mostly random Danielle's blog address is "wesingwedancewestealthings." What's not to love about that? 

Becky - Mommy Wants Vodka: Becky likes to use CAPITALS, TOO, and she has a curious obsession with different ways to refer to scrota (is that the plural for scrotum?) She's funny as hell and refreshingly honest.

Debbie of It's Just Me: she's starting out on the pathyway of adopting from Etheopia. Her excitement is contagious.

Calliope of  Creating Motherhood  - I'm channelling my inner Sheila E. to chant "Rock, rock, Cali rocks! Everybody knows that Cali Rocks!"

Erin of Just Off Magazine - Her travels with Charlie the Human Teddy Bear are fun to live vicariously through. Whenever I visit her blog, I'm always reminded to be happy for the little things. Everyday is Thanksgiving over on Bordeaux Street. 

And also Wishy-Wish and Alicia.

 

Kick Ass Blogger: from Sara at Somewhat Lower

The Angry Infertile:  Om, Bitch. Om!!! Need I say more? I will say more - this one is a must-read. What I love about Angry is that I'm quite sure that had I been writing blogs back when I was still trying to conceive, my tone would have mirrored hers - angry but funny, and you just want to reach out and give her a big hug.

Lexy of Stoopid Monkeys

Carrie of Letting It Out - she's my protegee. If I kick ass, she kicks ass. 

Friendship Award from Carrie of Letting It Out

This one goes to Anymommy-Stacey, Vodka-Becky, My Becky, and right back to Carrie.

Answer the questions below and pass the award on to any number of bloggers!

1. Do you have the same friends since childhood?
For the most part, no. "Friend" is a word that I use sparingly. I have acquaintances from high school who were close to me back then, but I catch up with the now only every once in a while. Of all my high school friends, I'd say that only one is still a true blue, tight like glue friend.

2. What do you value most about your friends?
Complete and utter support; my true friends are there through it all, the fun times along with the pick you up off the floor bad times. They love me at my worst

3. Are your friends your sounding boards?
Sho' nuff.

4. What is your favorite activity to share with your friends?
Lots of laughter while just hangin' out.

 

From Lexy of Stoopid Monkey

So, here are the rules to receiving this award:

1. You have to pass it on to 5 other fabulous blogs in a post.
2. You have to list 5 of your fabulous addictions in the post.
3. You must copy and paste the rules and the instructions below in the post.

Instructions:

On your post of receiving this award, make sure you include the person that gave you the award and link it back to them. When you post your five winners, make sure you link them as well. Also, don't forget to let your winners know they won an award from you by emailing them or leaving a comment on their blog.

My 5 addictions that keep me going: (and in no particular order mind you)

1. Internet - no explanation necessary
2. tea and toast
3. laughter
4. massages from Frank
5. hot showers

I'm passing this one on to Alicia, Nancy, Sara(of Gas Passer), Chicklet, and Amber. 

The "I Will Not Be Silent about Infertility" Award

 

This stroke of genius award was developed by Angry IF. She gave this to all of us, and I'm giving it to all of you. If you haven't done so already, read about the significance of this award and pick one up for yourself. Well done, Angry. Brilliant.

She was here

I miss my great-grandmother.

This morning I lay in bed squeezing my eyes shut, the better to hold in the last filaments of the memory-dream I awoke in the midst of. I could almost believe that I was five or eight or twelve, curled up in the chenille-blanketed bed in the back bedroom. If I strained my ears in the quiet Georgia morning, I could hear the time-distant, early-morning bustle of Chicago's Halsted Street, just one street over from Big Mama's house near the corner of 95th and Green.

Maybe I thought of her this morning because next week is Thanksgiving and the last time I saw her was Thanksgiving Day '99. Maybe it was because she stretched out across the cosmic divide of heaven and earth and met me in my dreams. Perhaps we ate cones of New York cherry ice cream while I told her all about the kids and how my life has turned out. She died just as I was crossing into the third trimester with the twins. I like to think that they knew her--that after she died, the twins and Big Mama occupied the same transitional space, and that she cared for them as they were crossing paths.

I miss her, but I am not sad. She lived a full, long life. She loved and was loved.

I'm cheating a bit here. I'm copying and pasting an entry from the online featured pregnancy diary I wrote when I was pregnant with the twins. Below is part of an entry that I wrote about her three weeks after she passed.

::::::::

This next part will ramble, because I have all of these memories and experiences of her that are all sort of hitting me so fast that I don't feel like I can organize them all in to a decent pattern of thought. These are my favorite and most cherished memories of her, and I guess my real point behind doing this is chronicling these memories for the sake of my children, who will know her in spirit but never in person.

The most amazing thing about Big Mama was the quirkiness of her personality. She was very spiritual, but by no means was she the old grandmother that bakes cookies and sits in a rocking chair knitting blankets. She smoked, and had the raspy voice to go along with it. She found humor in some of the oddest situations and loved to shop (favorite stores: Zales and Marshall's). When she got cable and discovered the Home Shopping Network, that quickly became her favorite channel. She knew every host, the names of their spouses and kids, and what times their segments aired, rambling about this item or that. Her favorite segments were jewelry and electronics. We spent the summer with her when I was eight, and all we did was watch HSN and work on word searches together. However boring this may sound, it was actually fun spending all of that time with her. She would laugh so heartily at all of the hosts' stupid jokes, that I would laugh equally as hard at her thinking those corny jokes were so funny. By the end of the summer, I knew the different grades of cubic zirconia, the types of chain links, and approximate costs for various pieces of jewelry. I also had a good assortment of fake jewelry and great radio to take home, too.

I can't talk about Big Mama without telling the most hilarious story about her. The two things about her that reminded you of old ladies are the facts that the only dogs she ever owned were poodles (she had a different one each time we went back to Chicago) and that we never heard her say a single cross or curse word. Well, that's not entirely true. It was actually one of her poodles that lead my sister Chanel and me to the same discovery -- Big Mama actually knew how to get mad and what a curse word was. It was during the same summer that we raided Home Shopping Network. I was eight and Chanel was three, and the two of us were sharing a bed in the back bedroom. We had just settled in and were drifting off to sleep when all of the sudden, Big Mama's newest poodle, Fluffy, exploded into the room with Big Mama hot on his tail. She had the meanest expression we had ever seen on her face, and she was brandishing a rolled up magazine. Just as Fluffy was about to dart under the bed, she grabbed his collar and swatted him on the butt while saying in a raspy growl, "I'm tired of this dog pissin' all over the damn place." Chanel and I gasped and whipped our heads toward each other, both of us wide-eyed with disbelief. After Big Mama dragged Fluffy out of the room, still fuming and muttering under her breath, Chanel and I spiraled into a fit of the giggles that kept us awake for the rest of the night. The next morning, every time we looked at Fluffy, we both passed this secret smile between us and started laughing all over again. That story still makes all of us laugh until we can't breathe.

Random thoughts about Big Mama

• The only time I ever eat New York Cherry ice cream is with Big Mama. It was a flavor that we subconsciously reserved for sharing with each other. We would each have a cone after dinner. I'm pretty sure that the only time she bought it was when we were in town.

• She regularly prepared and ate spaghetti like it was a side dish, never the main course. Customary meals were spaghetti with fried chicken, spaghetti with pork chops, or spaghetti with fish. Yeah, that's right -- spaghetti with fish.

• Speaking of fish, the only time I ever ate salmon patties is when Big Mama made them. Mom even tried to make them once and they just weren't the same. That goes the same for potato pancakes, too.

• The same dog-spanking-and-cursing summer in Chicago, Big Mama revealed to three, almost four year-old Chanel that she wore dentures. One evening we were all eating dinner (spaghetti and meatloaf, I think) when Chanel suddenly said, "Big Mama, you have pretty teeth." Big Mama grinned and suddenly pushed out her top dentures. Chanel, with all the innocence of a young child, exclaimed through a mouthful of noodles, "WOW! You're gonna getta lotta money from the Tooth Fairy tonight!!"

• Those same dentures used to soak in a glass of Efferdent next to the bathroom sink every night, right next to my great-grandfather's glass eye. He used to keep it in the soap dish. I told you they were quirky.

• Big Mama always kept the closet in her bathroom stocked with extra toothbrushes, first aid kits, mouthwash, soap, tissue (both facial and rolls), floss, towels, Alka-Seltzer, Pepto-Bismol, Tylenol, and every other toiletry you could possibly think of. It was almost as if she expected the entire continental Army to drop in seeking refuge.

• Cole slaw. Yes, cole slaw. She spent hours (literally) making one giant bowl of cole slaw. She started with fresh heads of cabbage, and would sit methodically cutting them into tiny slivers with a knife she had only for that purpose. When that was done, she would peel and slice carrots in the same fashion, then toss them in with the cabbage. The best part was the apples. She would find the largest, sweetest-looking apples she could, and peel them with such meticulous precision that there was one long, thin, curl of apple peel. She would always give those to me to eat. Then she would slice the apples into slivers and toss them in with the cabbage and carrots. Finally she added some raisins (always the Sun-Maid brand that comes in the big red cans), and mixed it all together with healthy dollops of mayonnaise (only Helmann's would do). God, I loved her cole slaw. When she was making it I would pop in from playing outside to see which step in the process she was on, and when she was finished, she always called me in so I could have the first helping. I never ate anyone else's cole slaw. I don't think I ever will, either. The morning after we found out she passed, I woke up with the aroma of her cole slaw in my nose and the feeling I had whenever I ate it. That morning I shed my last tear at the loss of her.

• Finally, no matter what time I woke up, Big Mama always seemed to have a sixth sense about when that would actually be. I could wake up at 8 am on one day and 10 am the next, and no matter what time I came stumbling into the kitchen she always had breakfast piping hot on the table for me. Grits with butter and sugar, bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast always started off my days.

::::::

I think sometimes our lost shout to be heard and by remembering and telling, we give them a voice. "I was here," they say.  "Don't forget that I was here."

Blue Xmas

What happened to the turkeys!?! The big crepe paper foldout pumpkins and cornucopias? Pilgrims and maize and welcoming Native Americans? The autumnal oranges, yellows, crimsons, and browns have been shoved rudely aside to make way for the greens and reds of money and Santa suits.

Dammit.

Many stores here are already brightly lit with decorated Christmas trees and fake snow in their window displays. The unsold Halloween inventory barely hit the clearance aisles before the 1950's chorus of carolers is piped through stores' speakers, cheerfully singing about jingling bells and white Christmases. 

Advertisement works everyone into a near state of frenzy even before the jack-o-lanterns have shriveled up. Are you not shopping now? Have you not bought a single Christmas gift in the month of October? You SUCK, loser!  Shop NOW, you lazy consumer! SHOP NOW! Flood the crippled economy with your good tidings and good cheer, and half your income, too! Where's your gee golly jolly holly Christmas spirit, you Scroogie-Scrooge, you?

Bah. Freakin'. Humbug. 

Don't get me wrong - the Christmas/Kwanzaa holiday season is my favorite time of the year. However, it ain't that time of the year yet. I detest the premature holiday cheer and the over-commercialization of a season that should be about simple, but important principles. The heart of the season, no matter the religion or holiday celebrated, is overshadowed by dollar signs.

It's like Christmas on crack, and it puts me in a foul mood.

::::::

From the infertility standpoint, we're getting into the thick of the demon season. Halloween through New Years is a landmine of traditionally rosy picture-perfect, child-centered moments. No other time of year (except perhaps Mothers' and Fathers' Day) are as difficult for many infertiles to deal with.

In my 2.5 years of trying, only the last year's holiday season was hellish. In the first two years, the holiday season reminded me of my childhood holidays. In the last year, the holiday season was a blatant, constant reminder of what I didn't have and couldn't seem to get.

On Thanksgiving Day, I was somewhere around cycle day sixty-something. The night before, I was terribly nauseous. The morning of, I found myself on my knees throwing up breakfast. I was sick for much of the remainder of the day, but was cautiously stupidly hopeful. Morning sickness? More like 24-hour stomach flu. Within a 24-hour period, I got it, Mom got it, my sisters Chanel and Dani got it. All but one of us got better within a day. Chanel kept puking, and on the Monday after Thanksgiving, we found out that she had morning sickness. I got my period as a consolation gift. Go, me. 

The remainder of the holiday season was all downhill after that. The whole month of December sucked big reindeer balls.

So, here's a song for those of you who are either already feeling bah-humbuggy or are preparing to do so. It's my favorite Christmas song.

Blue Christmas by Miles Davis
Listen here

Merry Christmas.
I hope you have a white one but for me its blue.
Blue Christmas - that’s the way you see it when you’re feeling blue.
Blue Xmas - when you’re blue at Christmastime you see right through
all the waste, all the sham, all the haste,
and plain old bad taste.

Sidewalk Santa Clauses are much, much, much too thin.
They’re wearing fancy rented costumes, false beards, and big fat phony grins.
And nearly everybody's standing 'round and holding out their empty hand or tin cup.
Gimme gimme gimme gimme. Gimme gimme.
Fill my stocking up -
all the way up.
It’s a time when the greedy give a dime to the needy.

Blue Christmas - all the paper tinsel and the fal de ral,
Blue Xmas - people trading gifts that matter not at all
What I call
Fal de ral
Bitter doll……Fal de ral.

Lots of hungry homeless children in your own back yards -
While you’re very, very busy addressing
twenty zillion Christmas cards.
Now, Yuletide is the season to receive or to give or to share,
But all you December do-gooders rushin' 'round and rant and rave and loudly blare
Merry Christmas. I hope yours is a bright one,
but for me it's blue.

midpoint

I am proud of our nation, but also greatly disappointed. Most Americans (whether they voted Democrat or Republican), realize that Obama's election as the first Black president speaks volumes of our country's growth in attitudes about race. However, prejudice, discrimination, and inequality are still very much alive. The target has shifted from racial discrimination to discrimination based on sexual orientation. 

We seem to be at some sort of midpoint; we've grown, but need to grow.  

I found a couple of things which illustrate this. The first is a blurb that KimboSue found and posted on her blog. The second is a copy and paste of a comment that my sister, a proud lesbian, left on my last post. 

How far we've come:

This older white guy asked his older black friend, 'Are you voting for Barack Obama just because he's black'?

So the older black guy fires back and says, 'Are you not voting for him because he's black? Why can't I vote for him just cause he's black?

Hell in this country men are pulled over everyday just cause they're black, passed over for promotions just cause they're black, considered to be criminals just cause they're black, but you don't seem to have a problem with that.

This country was built with the sweat and whip off the slaves' backs, and now a descendant of those same slaves has a chance to lead the same country where we weren't even considered to be people. A country where we weren't allowed to be educated, drink from the same water fountains, eat in the same restaurants, or even vote, so you damn right I'm going to vote for him!

But not just because he's black.

But because he is hope, he is change, and he now allows me to understand when my grandson says he wants to be president when he grows up, it is not a fairy tale but a short term goal. Now he sees, understand, and knows, he can achieve, withstand, and do anything just because he's black!

How far we have yet to go:

Hey Butthead,
I'm overjoyed and simply giddy about PRESIDENT OBAMA! All the Black folks in Wal-mart were smiling and cheesing all hard. But at the same time, I find myself a little upset. Proposition 8 passed in California and Mississippi passed a law that banned gay adoptions. Although I'm nowhere near marriage or near adoption, it saddens me that gays and lesbians who want to get married and have the right to be just as miserable as straight people (joke) aren't able to do so. And it saddens me even more that so many gays and lesbians that want to adopt aren't able to do so. It sucks......BUT WE GOT A BLACK PRESIDENT!!!!! :-)

:::::::::

I wasn't around for the first Civil Rights Movement. Sign me up for this one. 

Blogrollin'

This weekend I'm going to do some blog updating. I need to get the top menu linked to all the right places and I'm thinking about changing around some colors, so things might look wacky here and there until I get things settled.

I'd also like to update my blog roll. If you're not already there and you'd like to be, drop a comment and let me know. I'm already subscribed to many of your feeds, but I know there are some I'm missing. Let me know you're reading with a comment so that I can subscribe to your feed. I might not always have time to comment, but I read each and every post that comes through on my feed, and I'd like to be sure I'm keeping up with you.

The lovely Luna had a coming out party on her blog last week, and I figured now's a good time for me to have another coming out party of my own. I've had a of my own here after I noticed an increase in the number of readers who subscribed to my feed. Go figure - last week that I disappeared into the toilet, I picked up 18 new subscribers, and over the past month, I've picked up a total of around 50 new subscribers. Groovy.

So, come out of lurkdom, pull up a seat, and introduce yourselves. Why are you came? <-- I'll give a thousand bucks to the person who can tell me what movie that line came from. I'll give a million bucks to the person who can tell me the name of character who said that line. Not really, but there's nothing like a little money as a motivator, right?

It only takes a second - leave a comment and your link! Don't forget to leave your guess for the thousand and million dollar rewards.

Little Black Girls

On this unusually historic morning, I went about my usual routine of prepping for work. As on any day, I stood in the mirror curling my hair as Kaelyn stood on the edge of the tub next to me, chirping away non-stop. I think I now understand the root of Kaelyn's obsession with Obama:

Me: Kaelyn, guess what?

K2: What?

Me: Obama won!

K2: (eyes wide, smile wider) He WON? He's going to bring my present now?

Me: Huh? (dawning realization) Ohh!!! No, sweetie! He's going to be our president now! He's the boss!

K2: He's going to bring my present in a box?

Me: No, silly. He's going to be our president, which means he's the boss, and he gets to live in the White House!

K2: He's going to bring my present in a box, and he's giving a white horse?

Me: You're just three, but you've already mastered the art of selective hearing like a pro.

K2: And I'm cute, too!

Me: Who said you were cute?

K2: Barack Obama!

Me: sigh

::::::::::

On a September Sunday morning in 1963, members of the Ku Klux Klan planted a bomb at the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. The building, which was the center of the surrounding Black community and the location of many civil rights rallies and planning meetings, was destroyed. Four little girls - an 11-year old and three 14-year olds - were killed as they prepared in the church basement for the Sunday morning service. The explosion shook the city of Birmingham, Alabama, but the reverberations were felt across the entire country.

As the heart and organizational headquarters of the Civil Rights Movement, Birmingham was no stranger to racial unrest. Several other bombings and riots had occurred in the city earlier in the year. But this bombing was different. It was a catalyst for the growth of the Civil Rights Movement. The intent of the bombing was to demoralize and weaken, but instead, it awakened and strengthened. Over the next year and beyond, people of all races unified to spread the message and fight for equality. The deaths of the four innocent girls prodded many to wake up and pay attention, to not only talk about change, but to do something about change.

 

::::::::::::

Last night, I could not stop my tears from streaming as I impatiently waited for our President Elect's acceptance speech. When Obama finally took the stage, it was his daughters, not him, to whom my eyes were drawn.     

Fourty-five years ago, little Black girls were victims of hate, intolerance, and injustice, killed without reason in a house of God. I am here to see the day - my children are here to see the day when little Black girls will live with reason in the White House. My children will know the significance of November 4, 2008. This day is the result of years of change and is the start of change for years to come. What was once a far-flung dream for my people is now a reality for my children.

In Malia and Natasha, pretty little Black girls with their hair spun in to silky ringlets, I saw the faces of every child. I saw everyone who had ever been told you can't because you're Black/gay/fat/stupid/different/weird/wrong/a woman/_______. Malia and Natasha represent my little Black girls and boys, and all the children of their generation who won't have to grow up fighting so hard against you can't...

because we stood up and said yes we can.

 

The real Obama Girl (with bad morning hair) and me

Change

I'm relatively young, of legal voting age for only the three elections before this one (I'm 30 - you can stop multiplying and subtracting now). I'll be honest; I wasn't so concerned about voting in the past years, so I didn't. Furthermore, I wasn't overwhelmingly thrilled with the candidates, especially not in the '04 election. I've always followed the races and examined the candidates' platforms. I've been interested in the presidential elections as a chronological marker of a shift in America's history, but not so moved that I've been motivated to fulfill my civic duty and vote. But this year, I've been affected by the same seismic charge that has rumbled other casual observers like myself into political action. These days are kinetic, and the results of tomorrow's voting will be an electrifying shock to the American system one way or the other.

What isn't shocking, though, is that there is a very real possibility that we may have an African-American as president. President. It would have been shocking back in '62, which was the year that my mother, with the whole class watching, was called a nigger by her second grade teacher in the newly-integrated elementary school.

It would have been doubly-shocking in '72 when Shirley Chisholm became the first major-party African-American candidate for the presidency.

It would have been moderately shocking in the '84 and '88 races of Jesse Jackson. Not ever really expected to win, what successes he did achieve were still considered "surprising" for "a Black man".

But now, Obama is just this close away from the presidency. What I find the most remarkable about this election is that Obama is esteemed for being a man. Just a man. The fact that he is African-American is almost secondary, which speaks as much of America as it does of Obama. America surely has plenty of room for left for growth in the non-discrimination department, but I think that this election is a wide stretch of proof that we are slowly but surely headed in the right direction.

All of that said, HOLY SHIT - an African-American might be president! In one generation's time we've moved from segregated classrooms to a Black man currently in the election lead. We are on the brink of a monumental event in the chain of Black History. My great-grandmother, who passed away when I was pregnant with the twins, saw days when an African-American couldn't be president. My children are living days when an African-American is leading a presidential race and hopefully will be president.

Good times.

:::::::

On a somewhat related, but lighter note, ever since Obama won the Democratic ticket I've had a segment of Eddie Murphy's 1983 stand-up show Delirious stuck in my mind. This has always been one of my favorite comedy acts. In our separate childhoods*, Frank and I both managed to memorize practically the entire show, and many of the funniest lines are now part of my family's inner dialogue.

This isn't the kid-friendly, Donkey of Shrek Eddie. This is the classic Eddie from two decades ago - rude, lewd, and inappropriately and offensively addressing many of the hot-button topics of the early '80s - AIDS, homosexuality, and Jesse Jackson's run for the presidency (every other word is the f-bomb, so do not watch this in the company of little ones or priests):

I wonder how many, if anyone did the same thing and in a few days' time will also incredulously, rhetorically ask, "He fucking won?"

*I wasn't allowed to watch the show in its entirety until I was 13. Before then, Mom would let me watch the snippets that were stories from Eddie's childhood. Though liberally peppered with curse words, the parts about chasing down the ice cream truck, playing the fart game in the bathtub, and his shoe-throwing mother (of which I couldn't find a clip) are freakin' hilarious.

Thought bubble

I'm sure we've all had this happen before - you're sitting there and for no particular reason at all, the strangest of recollections just pops to the forefront of your mind and interrupts your train of thought. Perhaps on some subconscious level, your mind is reliving snippets of your life and one of them happens to bubble to the threshold of awareness, like a bottom-dwelling fish rising to pucker its lips on the surface of a deep, dark lake.

So, I'm sitting here hard at work grading papers, thinking of nothing other than the plot structure of The Tell-Tale Heart, when suddenly the memory of a lining check from my first surrogacy attempt in 2004 swims into thought -

Here lies Kym -- spread eagled, astride the stirrups, and weenie-wanded. The RE clicks a few buttons on the ultrasound machine, then turns the screen towards me and my intended mother and says, "BeeeYYUUUUtiful! Look at that! Your lining is at 13 a full week before transfer. And see that there? It's your triple-layer pattern. Just lovely! That estrace has you all plush and snuggly! Your lining is perfect, and it's [here's the good one, folks] juicy!" Then she gives a congratulatory pat to the jiggly blubber which sheaths the old ute.

Juicy. Juicy? There are many appropriate adjectives for a good lining. Plush. Thick. Fluffy, even, if you're the type that likes pink-tinted poodles and puts little heart-shaped stickers in your calendar on your projected transfer or IUI days. But juicy? Linings should never be referred to as juicy. That's just disgusting and ruins the appeal and satisfaction of breakfast beverages. And uh - you don't touch my gut in a non-medical manner, and I'll not touch yours in return, mmm'kay?

Now I wonder - what charming verbal nuggets have you heard from your doctors (reproductive or otherwise)? They can be any flavor of inappropriate - funny, offensive, illogical, or just plain stupid. What has a doctor said or done, that hours (or even years) later, has left you incredulously questioning, "Did he/she seriously just say/do that to me?"

Lovin'

I'm stealing a note from Erin at Just Off Magazine and making a list of my current simple pleasures. She does this every so often on her own blog, and it always reminds me to stop an show some appreciation for all the little things that are, well, worth 'preciatin'.

• the half-eaten lollipop that's currently stuck to my shirt from when Kaelyn fell asleep on me with it still in her hand.
• the bowl of un-trick-or-treated candy
• sweater weather
• three-week countdown to Thanksgiving Break
• fried tilapia with fresh lemon
• a well-timed and welcome reminder of the tune of Goin' up the Country
• voting for Obama/Biden (but not lovin' Friday's 2.5 hour wait in the sun. It was Africa hot out there.)
• friends who call and email to pry me from the rock I've been hiding under
• teaching The Tell-Tale Heart and watching the students squirm in their seats when the whackadoodie madman whacks of the old man's head and appendages.
• the loads of comments and words of encouragement from my fellow bloggers. I 'preciate those big time, so thanks.
• Sunday evening Scrabble
• watching True Blood with Frank
• Saturday shopping with Mommy Lady
• The Bustin' Grumpy/Dropping Deuces Song

What are you lovin' today?

Craptastic

Email from coworker -

IT HAS BEEN FIVE DAYS!!!! I AM IN NEED OF A NEW BLOG ENTRY!!!

Addicted much, Melanie? I didn't realize anyone was counting.

She reads "that infertility stuff," but especially likes the happy sunshine posts about el Cinco and Frank the Fantastic Fartknocker.

So, for Melanie and anyone else sniffing around for the next Smart One fix, I will have a real post up tonight or tomorrow, but there won't be any star sprinkles and rainbow twinkles because my mood is in le toilete and is three spins away from a full flushing.

More later.

As an aside:
As I typed the above, an image of an animated turd with outstretched arms screaming "NOOOOO!!!" and swirling round and round in a flushed toilet floated into my mind. On one hand, that's disgusting. I am not in the habit of visualizing grossness like talking defecation and thinking such things are funny. You know those Mucinex commercials with the cartoon mucous and the Tinactin commercials with the talking foot fungus? Serious gross-out. If I'm eating when those types of commercials come on, I seriously have to look away, lest I get nauseous. On the other hand, I just totally cracked myself up with that thought, to the extent that I've given myself a borderline fit of the giggles. I have issues. 

Help me get out of the toilet and tell me what some of your funny personality quirks are.

If I haven't been around, it's not 'cause I don't love ya. It's just...y'know - that whole toilet thing.

of red capes and superheroes

Confession - lately, I've felt a little...under the weather in the emotional sense, for lack of a better term or phrase. One day the week before last, I came home and went straight to bed. I needed a moment. When Frank asked me what was wrong, I couldn't answer him because I couldn't verbalize it. I flexed and curled my lips, feeling around in vain around for the right words. When I couldn't find them, I did the only other thing I felt I capable of doing in that moment -- I cried. I talk here often of moments when I have cried, but generally speaking, I'm much more of a sigher or a pouter. I'm not one for spontaneous and random tears. For a split second Frank was flabbergasted at how quickly his usually unflappable wife had reduced herself to hot mess of tears. Then he said, "It's okay, hun. Sometimes you just need to let it all out." So I did. And after I was all cried out, the words that I had been searching for came to me. They slipped in quietly when I wasn't looking and I whispered them just as silently as they had entered my mind: I feel defeated.

Sometimes it feels like no matter how much I push or pull, it's never enough.

On the whole, I am happy - the most important things that I've ever wanted out of life are in place and I can look around and say, things are exactly as they should be. But then there are those few things in my back pocket which make me feel like no matter how hard I run, I can't get anywhere. Every once in a while it catches up to me and I'm left with a residue of emotional malaise.

When there's clear just cause for a meltdown, I don't feel conflicted about expressing those emotions. Someone is supposed to rage and/or feel hopeless when something huge like a failed cycle or miscarriage occurs. However, I'm not very good at talking about grey zone feelings. Strike that. I don't feel comfortable talking about grey zone feelings. How can I cry about the pebble in my shoe when others are trapped under the boulders that an avalanche has dumped upon them?

So, this is me stepping out of character -- I was in the grey zone. I felt small and insufficient and insignificant. And defeated. Definitely defeated.

Getting more to the point of this whole post -- a couple of days after the meltdown, I was touched to receive these words in an email from Eva of The Egg Drop Post:

I wanted to ask you: how do you stay so strong? You have been through a lot and I really admire your good nature, humor and general bad-ass-ness. It is the cape? If so, where do I get one?

Eva is sharp and sophisticated, kind and witty. She herself has been through a lot, especially within the past few months and days. Definitely heavier trials than the pebble-in-your-shoe variety. She had a low stim and even lower fert rate for her first IVF cycle, which resulted in a negative. She's had rounds with her insurance company and was smacked down with discrimination of same-sex couples. Within just the last couple of weeks, her wife was diagnosed with cancer (thankfully, it's a type that is treatable with high recovery and success rates). And she's asking me how I stay so strong? Touched, I blinked back tears and realized that I didn't feel quite so inadequate anymore. For that small moment, I felt like every bit of the badass superhero that I strive to be.

Is it the cape? Maybe. I look at Superwoman up there in my header and it does make me feel a bit empowered, like I can kick a little ass and take some names along the way. So if it's the cape that gives that feeling, even for a moment, then here's one for you, Eva. You are the first recipient of and the inspiration for the Red Cape Award:

I'd also like to pass the first Red Cape Awards on to:

Amber of Between the Lines: a couple of months ago, she stumbled on my blog somehow and read the entire thing, from the very first entry straight through to the present. She calls herself my stalker, I call her a new friend. Her entire blog, but especially her recent posts chronicling her two week wait and positive betas are nothing short of beautiful. The world is finally turning in her favor  and she's taking it for every bit of joy that it's worth. She's my Seize the Day Hero.

Calliope of Creating Motherhood: Who doesn't know Calliope, who rocketh like no other? Each and every day, I stand in awe of all that she does, who she is, and who she is becoming. She's my Hero of Patience and Continuance. (Thanks also to Cali for making the graphic!)

Stacey of Is There Any Mommy Out There?: Stacey is one who doesn't do blog awards (at least not in the conventional sense), but I couldn't resist giving her one because she's a hero to me. Wrap humor, empathy, snark, and a fierce love for her children into a neat little package and that's Anymommy. Did I mention that she's also a mommy through transracial adoption? You won't be disappointed if you click over to read about her life with Ess, Gee, and Que. She's my Hero of Help-Kym-Break-Out-of-Her-Mommyblogger-Shell.

Chance of Embracing Happenstance: She's been beat up, knocked down, and dragged out far more than anyone should ever have to endure, yet in her own, quiet way, she still fights and tries to paint the world in color even if she's mired in black and white. We'll get there...hopefully sooner rather than later! She's my Hero of Determination.

Sara of Gas Passer aka UUer: Sara has been one of my longest, most constant supporters. She's a fighter and has one one of the biggest red capes that I've ever seen. Finally pregnant via IVF with a unicornuate uterus, she's been on strict bed rest for much of her pregnancy and is now in the hospital trying to stave off delivery of babygirl Brynn until at least 34 weeks (which is just a few days away!) or longer. Though she quite understandably feels frightened and down, she always strives to put he best foot forward and focus on maximizing her positive energy. I could learn a lot from her. She's my Brighter Fighter hero.

Antigone of Antigone Lost: Though mostly a lurker, I've been reading Antigone since her first post. Armed with the love for her two sons -- Henry, lost in January at 22 weeks and Perseus, now stirring within at the start of trimester three -- she's left a dark union with Mr. Hyde, and with her furry sidekick Sothis alongside, she is rebuilding her life from the inside out. Antigone is winning; she is my Hero of Transformation.


::::: Passing along the Red Cape Award :::::

1. On your blog, copy and paste the award, these rules, a link back to the person who selected you, and a link to this post: Red Cape Award SuperCrew (http://smartone.typepad.com/smartone/red-cape-award-supercrew.html). This is a running list of awardees.
2. Check in on the SuperCrew post by leaving a link to your blog and a comment to let Kymberli of I'm a Smart One know that you were passed a Red Cape Award so she can add you to the list.
3. Select as many award recipients as you would like, link to their blogs (if they have one), and explain why you have chosen them. 
4. Let them know that you have selected them for an award by commenting on one of their posts.
5. If you find that someone you want to nominate has already been selected by someone else, you can still honor them by posting a comment on their award post stating your reasons for wishing to grant them the award.
6. You do not have to wait until someone nominates you to nominate someone else.   

Whatever it is that any of you are up against, I hope that when you're feeling small and lost and scared, it helps at least a little to know that someone out there thinks you're a badass superhero.

Without my laptop, I'd...

• stay caught up with laundry
• probably actually cook instead of sit and watch Frank do it (or maybe not - he eyes me suspiciously and hovers defensively towards the stove every time I even look like I'm thinking about touching a frying pan)
• likely get more sleep, since I wouldn't be unable to sleep because I can't turn my brain off of COMPOSE BLOG POST mode
• exercise parts of my body other than my fingers
• not have to constantly rewind TV shows on the DVR because I get distracted and miss all the action
• clean more often than Super Saturday (which is code for spend hours doing all the chores that I should have done Sunday-Friday)

But without my laptop, I'd also:

• never have met my best friend (friendship est. 2001 via message board)
• never have met my other close, close friend and also former intended mother in 2003
• have never learned about surrogacy or found such a wonderful wealth of information and support on Surrogate Mothers Online (SMO).
• have never matched with any of my four sets of amazing intended parents 
• would never have had the honor of getting to say, "Yes, I'm pregnant, but it's not mine. It's a white kid." (then subsequently laugh my royal arse off at the unassuming victim's jaw-dropped shock and confusion)
• probably have gone off the deep end once I started the second year of trying to conceive, had it not been for the support of the infertility message board I stumbled on in 2000. 
• never have the chance to cross bridges and expand my horizons by reading the beautiful words of others who have their own stories to tell.
• not have all of you here to cheer me on, make me laugh, and help me not feel like the only one walking around who cringes and gags a little when someone says something like, I get pregnant so easily, that if my lacy pink Vickie's Secrets mingles with his Jockeys in the washer, I get knocked up!

Who needs a clean house, a homecooked non-nuked meal, mountain rain-scented laundry (that is also folded and put away), eight hours of continuous sleep, and a smallish, can't-pinch-an-inch-on-this butt and abs, anyway?

How long can you go without your computer before yo start twitching and foaming at the mouth? I made it about 4 minutes, 7.3 seconds before I started having convulsions.

Seriously, though - what do you value most about your computer and Internet access?

the gross, the good, and everything in between

1. On Saturday morning, I absentmindedly ate through half a bowl of cereal before I noticed it was sprinkled with a dash of ants. I'm scarred for life.
2. What the hell is it with this PMS thing, anyway? I'm regulated now on BCPs (YAY!), which may as well be an abbreviation for Body Crippling Pains (BOO!). I've been popping Motrin like they were Tic-Tacs.
3. Is anyone watching Heroes? Suresh is grossing me out. Hiro is cracking me up.
4. Chance's project is this close to being finished. Keep an eye out on her blog over the next couple of days and I'll give a heads up over here, too.
5. Kaelyn is the new Obama Girl. This evening she ran around the house with the Guitar Hero guitar rocking out to a song she made up which goes something like this:
   
   Barack Obamaaaaa! Obamaaaaaa! Boooomerang Obama!
   I play my guitaaaaaar! With Barack Obamaaaa! Chicken!
   I'm going to eat chicken with Barack Obamaaaa! I like chickeeeen!
   And Apple Dippers with my chicken nuggets!
   Barack Obamaaaa! I'm voting for Barack Obamaaaaa!
   And I'm a pink princess with a clown and I love Barack Obamaaaaa!
   
   I love how her mind works. In her own sing-songy way, she's basically retelling the past couple of weeks of her life. My mom took the kids to an amusement park, where the the braver and older ones rode a roller coaster called the Boomerang. We had chicken for dinner yesterday. She ate chicken nuggets and Apple Dippers when we went to Mickey D's last weekend. She also picked out a pink princess costume for Halloween. It came with a sparkly, iridescent pink crown, which with her three-weeks-past-three-year-old diction she pronounces as clown. And of course, she has some sort of obsession with Barack Obama. Which is kinda cute. I think she's forever marked as an uber-nerd because her first crush is on Barack Obama.
   
6. Frank wants to bake cookies, but he doesn't want to just bake any cookies, he wants to bake your cookies. That sounds kinda nasty, doesn't it? Like some sort of pick up line a grubby perv would use - Oooh, baby, lemme bake your cookies. Seriously - he'd like some tried and true other-people's-favorite-cookie recipes. If you got 'em, leave 'em. Greatly appreciated. By both of us, because I get to eat them. I'll share with you.
   
7. If you don't have a cookie recipe to leave, let me know what the grossest thing you've ever eaten is. This should make for an interesting appetizing/unappetizing blend of comments.
   

Busted

Edited to add: Luna read this post earlier and reminded me that I have once before discussed the overabundant size of my boobs. Here's the link: GG. If you want to see an oh-so sexy picture of Frank, click it. Trust me. 

You know your boobs are too big when...

...your neck disappears if you lay back without a bra on.

...your neck disappears if you lay back with a bra on.

...you can only shop for bras online or from catalogs because you could never find those extra-wide strap, four-hook closure, double parachutes in the stores.

...you never have to worry about nipple protrusion because with the use of the Roll and Tuck maneuver, you can roll your nipple and tuck it under the rest of your boob.

...you can plug your nipple into your navel.

You might think I am over-exaggerating, but I assure you I am not. I could drop half of what I have and still have too much. I have my own built-in floatation devices.

If you got 'em, add 'em. If you're on the opposite end of the spectrum and you're a part of the IBTC*, feel free to complete You know your boobs are too small when....

I could use a good laugh today.

*Itty Bitty Titty Committee. I know you're out there.

Under construction

Big changes are afoot in the layout of SmartOneville. I have to move some things around to make space for the new BlogHer ads. I don't think I mind the parenting-geared ads vs. the IF ads, but I'd prefer for the headline links to posts written by other BlogHer members to be from the IF community. I have to find out if there's a way to adjust that. We shall see.

The changes will happen gradually through the week, so don't flip out if there's a now you see it, now you don't trend here for the next few days. I assure you that you have not lost your mind. I probably did move something and then move it back or move it somewhere else.

In the meantime, here's another drive-by update:

• Chanel didn't get the job, unfortunately. I have confidence and faith that she'll be able to find something soon.
• Today, Kyra and Jordan made the SPLASH Crew in their second and kindergarten classrooms respectively. SPLASH Crew is an acronym for Students Promoting Learning and something-or-other; basically, it's Student of the Week. They got to have lunch at a special table with the principal, and were all atwitter with how totally freakin' awesome cool it was. 
• I have to be The Mean Teacher this year and I don't like it very much. I'm like a combination of Miss Gulch, Miss Hannigan, and the Terminator.
• I'm a little too excited for the vice-presidential debate. I'm prepared to giggle my friggin' ass off. This morning when Kaelyn saw Palin on the news, she pointed and said, "I'm smarter than her." From the mouths of babes.
• Over the weekend, Chance had a huge success on a major project that puts us one step closer to Project Happenstance, as we've grown to call it. We haven't made any additional headway with the insurance issue, though, so we're still working on getting that part figured out. 

It's after midnight. Today is already tomorrow and I haven't even been to sleep yet. Peace out.

Distraction

Who is that in the back row sneaking in some email reading while in the middle of a training session and blogging when she should be paying attention to data collection for student improvement and professional practices data and curriculum implementation?

It's not me. I'm way too attentive for that nonsense.

I'm a Sick One

Last night, just around the time that Nikki (or another splinter of her personality) turned the reporter into ice and shattered him*, I noticed that my throat was feeling a little scratchy. By the time I got up this morning, I felt like dog poo. By lunchtime I felt like stir-fried dog poo. So tomorrow, I'm taking a sick day. I almost never take a sick day, but this time, I really feel like I could use the rest.

And the tea. And the chicken noodle soup. And the Nyquil. And the massages. And the Little Bit, can I get you anythings? from Frank.

I admit it. I'm a complete whiner when I'm sick. Well, I would be a whiner if Frank didn't magically appear with what I need before I even realize I need it. Okay, maybe I do still whine. Just a little. If my mom was here, I'd most certainly whine for her to "moosh-moosh" my head. I likes me a good head massage when I have the cooties.

When you're sick, what helps cure what ails you? A little extra love from your significant other? A hug from Mom? The traditional chicken noodle soup and OJ elixir? Watching old movies while curled in your favorite blanket on the couch? I feel so crappy that I might just try everything tomorrow.

*Frank and I were totally expecting Nikki to flip into psycho mode and rip the guy's head off, so we were quite shocked when she iced him. Can you imagine the utter ick when those little frozen bits melt? Grody. And Suresh - did he not make you think of Jeff Goldblum as the genetically-altered Seth Brundle in The Fly? The way he put the moves on Maya skeeved me out a bit. Did anyone else notice how good Maya's English is all of the sudden? I think I liked her better as the innocent, helpless hermana. Heroes, anyone? Let's talk about it.

I stole it again

My posts have been somewhat vapid and thin lately. There is plenty going on in this overworked brain right now; I just need to tumble some things around internally before I lay it all out for all to see. I think in the coming days, there will be a flurry of mind dumping.

In the meantime, here is an interesting little linky-doo that I swiped from Scarred Bellybutton:

Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator.

Sarah! Palin! Baby Name! Generator! If that isn't a run of nightmare-inducing words, I don't know what else is.

The generator says that if Palin was my mom (I shudder), she would have named me Hen Waffle Palin.

It's 'cause I'm Black, isn't it? Hen Waffle? As in chicken and waffles? Like Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles? Because we all know how much Black folks LOOOOVE chicken. And watermelon.*

I am in no way implying that Palin gives in to racist sterotypes. Not a bit. I was just hoping for something a little more powerful. Like Gunner. Gun her. I'm also not implying that someone should point the rifle at her, so let's just clear that up right now. But, she does like those guns, doesn't she? If you gave her a gun, then I guess technically you could say that you gunned her. Moose, be warned.

What's your Palin name?

*Chicken and watermelon really are my favorite foods, but that's totally not because I'm Black.

Welcome to the world, Kinsley & Eligh!

This just in from her husband Cody - Carrie of Letting It Out has has delivered her much-anticipated twins! The stats:

Baby girl Kinsley was born at 3:19 weighing 6 lbs, 5 oz and measuring 19" in length.
Baby boy Eligh followed at 3:22 weighing in at 6 lbs, 10 oz and measuring 20.75" in length.

Mom and babies are doing well; Dad says he's "ecstatic."

I can't wait until tomorrow afternoon when I can see those cuties for myself!

Click over to her blog and leave a little love and congrats for her to come home to!