Saturday, January 31, 2009
Only problem is the endless armchair diagnoses flying around now. Why does everybody think they are a shrink? You should hear the medical terms flying around!
His very skilled Doctors, and his unskilled ones, all agree that he has some form of depression (regular, severe, bipolar, chronic, etc...pick one) and addiction and alcoholism. They also agree that he has some brain damage from the strokes and heart bypass operation. That is enough isn't it? I guess not for the family and friends because they can't believe the difference in him off meds, vs. on meds. (Anyone wanna tell me if you all act differently off meds vs. on meds? ) I personally think they are just very emotional on the subject and are having trouble being objective. They love him and they are angry with him, but they can't see it.
Meanwhile, a list of what they think he has? Or will do to others? (With no evidence, mind you.)
Street Drug Addiction
They also think he will engage in violent abusive stalking towards random women, be abusive towards children, steal things, set things on fire, turn into a serial killer.
I'm just waiting for the accusation of him being a terrorist. *eyeroll*
These are the same people who haven't actually seen him in 15 years. Or if they have seen him, it was only for a few hours here and there. I'm thinking that maybe they should try to remember the guy he was for the first 50 years of his life, who showed absolutely no sign of any of these issues, and never ever hurt a child or anyone else. Not once.
After his stroke, and the brain damage and his meds got screwed up and he started drinking he changed dramatically. But the only person he ever hurt was himself. He yelled and screamed at his ex-wives, (and they gave as good as they got) and he engaged in endless legal fights. He has said and done unconscionable things when he was off his meds or drunk out of his mind. But he has never ever physically hurt another person. And as weak as he is, he will likely never be able to hurt anyone else. He is a fool and has likely ruined his life and his career and will never recover. He was an asshole sometimes in the first fifty years, and he possessed a razor sharp wit---but that isn't mental illness.
But a sociopath?
Street drugs? He's only ever touched prescription ones...
Schizophrenia comes on much earlier in life. A hell of a lot earlier than fifty!
The amount of misunderstanding towards the mentally ill in our society never ceases to amaze me. I just hope that the family can see past their anger and their shame and accept that he is sick. We all get angry sometimes, I certainly do, but in the end, he needs help and it certainly won't happen if everyone thinks he is Label X, and writes him off.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
My husband has been away and things have conveniently gone nuts in the meantime. The kids have all been sick with stomach ailments and colds and coughs.
The very expensive crib broke in the middle of the night and thank goodness Julius woke up and cried. Something bad might have happened....I don't even want to think about it. I just never ever want to hear another asshole asserting that cribs are always safer than the family bed. We had it professionally put together, and it didn't matter. Reality is that cribs break all the time and babies get caught between mattresses and the side and BAD things happen. I don't know what we're going to do now. He won't fit back in my uterus, not that it was a safe place....
We've had more snow than anyone can believe and the city has decided to barely clear any away. I think it's because the private contractor who clears snow for the City of Toronto was made responsible for any snow related road damage this year, and as a result is not letting the plow blades get too near the roads and curbs. Except then the roads still have snow on them. Ooops.
My Doctor has still not called back, which is bizarre. Dr.J. always returns my calls because she knows me and knows I'm not just calling to chat. I've called her office again for the eighth time and they have the report but she hasn't called. Meanwhile I am still having fibroid related symptoms and am getting increasingly freaked out.
My brother in law P has finally agreed to come back to Canada, since he has no money, no friends and no family in Belgium. (Ok, technically he has a wife but God forbid she pay for some food or get him a Doctor. Did I ever mention that they are still legally married? Yah, class act there...) We have sent him a plane ticket. He won't be in my city, but instead is going to stay with another set of relatives and hopefully in a place of his own eventually. But since his mental state is a disaster and he is drinking again, he will likely not even get on the right plane, or he will have a breakdown in the air and get tasered by the RCMP. (The Mounties ain't what they used to be.)
Meanwhile he has become a weak sick old man who could hardly hurt a fly. A year of starvation, semi-homelessness and barely treated mental illness will do that to a guy. The Doctors were shocked he was alive a year ago considering the condition of his heart and liver. I can't imagine the state he is in now.
And yeah, we'll have to pay out of pocket for medical treatment for him. He paid taxes in Canada as a citizen and resident for 30 years and later as a non-resident but since he lived abroad, that's all erased. He won't qualify for welfare or disability or anything. Remember, here in Canada we abandon our citizens as soon as they cross the border, so don't let anything bad happen while you are gone!
Next problem: I am trying to deal with the house reno design all by myself, but that isn't really working. I am pretty practical. I don't want to do a design that will result in a huge legal fight and on our narrow city lot we can't do everything on earth, but we can do a nice average house. But without my husband's input it's useless to go much further.
And he refuses to look at it. And the roof is falling in. Kind of a problem when it is snowing inside the bedrooms....denial will not work forever me thinks.
My final thought for the day? I'm really hoping hard that Obama fires his new Head Chef for the White House, Sam Kass. Can't link to it right now, (updated: links done )but if you go to the New York Times Well Blog, you will see a quote from him where he asserts "the abundance of high fructose corn syrup in lunches and snacks has been shown to have a direct link to the attention deficit disorder epidemic." Except for that whole pesky issue of SCIENCE. You know the thing that Obama promised to follow? In the Inauguration speech?
Look, HFCS sucks, and it isn't healthy for anyone, but I am really fucking sick and tired of idiots saying that mental illness and poverty is caused by moral failings and if we all just hitched up our britches and ate right we'd all be able to ditch our meds.
Cause I don't need this. Just don't.
Monday, January 26, 2009
So little Julius, who was never little, is now freakin' huge. Ginormous, in fact, if that's a word. He is at least 23 pounds and umm, I think 28 inches long/tall? Hard to measure with the helmet.
Speaking of which, his helmet for his plagiocephaly (flat head) is going well. His head circumference grew another cm, so more of the flat part filled out nicely. He's lovely and round now! We might actually get out of the helmet in one or two more months. (Depends on if he grows a little more.) Most kids have to do at least until 12 months, but he is growing so fast, it's definitely getting cut down in our case.
I am convinced it's all the protein he still gets whether it's from the beans added to every veggie meal, or the eggs and chicken and beef and and fish. (Ok, he's not such a fish fan....trout is kind of bleh. He likes salmon better. I'm going to post a list later of his fave foods for my own records, no time now.)
And maybe I mentioned he got his first tooth?
Yeah, it broke through on New Year's Eve, and since then he has gotten that one and five more.
Six teeth in 25 days is bloody awful, I have to tell you. Baby Tempra, Tylenol, and Infant Motrin, especially the non-staining kind are my friends and his, people. Seriously in love.
He can also scoot backwards on his tummy, now, and sit up no problem, and pull up. He is trying to pull up and walk while holding onto people! Amazing.
I'm working on kiddieproofing and gates and reorganizing stuff so that when he really starts moving, I can relax and not worry he'll play with the french knives. Or rip into the computer cables.
Gotta go, have to pick up a sick kid. I-yiiii
Friday, January 23, 2009
There are so many good things in my life but when I feel like this, I cannot see it.
I really sincerely utterly can't stand anyone. Everything everyone does is wrong and stupid and annoying and driving me crazy.
So until my doc calls me back and helps me fix my HRT and deal with these fibroids, I'm just laying low.
I've had a bunch of your tabs open for awhile and I intended on commenting, but that may not be such a great friggin idea. I keep waiting to be in a better mood, but I'm NEVER in a better mood. It's taking all my strength just to write something decent when I do comment.
And the stupid Doc is not calling me back. And everything I find online is depressing. I desperately do not want to lose any body parts, like my uterus, and the best treatments seem to be still under research, and I do NOT want to use drugs to put me in menopause because that is worse than anything.
I'm going to be in a good mood for my kids if it effin kills me, but I don't have anything left over for anyone else. Sorry.
Even though we paid an expert with a phd to assess him; even though we had a tutor who was a high school principal and Kaz was able to run rings around him---my husband does not believe that Kaz is smart enough to do harder work.
He says that people just aren't able to pluck things from the sky, that they have to be taught it over time.
My reply is that we paid for him to be taught. And he was. He learns very very fast. He is different.
So we have the perfect storm. A genetically gifted child with a naturally inborn talent who was a completely privileged child, nurtured and taught and given every advantage from birth, (ok, I DID drop him on his head once or twice like I said) and no one around him believes that he is capable of more than any other 12 year old boy.
I can't let him down, but I don't know how to convince my husband otherwise. Mr.C. is naturally brilliant at writing but doesn't believe the same can exist in math. Because he thinks math is a slowly learned concrete exercise. For him and others perhaps. Not for me and not for Kaz.
We suck at some things, like following directions, but abstract geometry is nadda problem.
His life would be easier if he was the Slumdog Millionaire, honestly!
Any suggestions? Ideas? Help?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
It makes you bleed like a mofo.
It is the size of a grapefruit.
It is unsightly and will disfigure various parts of your body.
It is painful. (back, pelvis, intestines, bladder, etc....)
It is almost impossible to get rid of.
Fred the Fibroid, doncha know? And his bromance Voldemort!
Both subserosal, one possibly intramural/subserosal, both painful as hell when poked with a transvaginal ultrasound.
Especially when the ultrasound tech is so obsessed with seeing Obama's inauguration live that she keeps leaving the room go to the "other room", (really, the staff lounge) to "check something". Meanwhile, I am on the exam table, half naked, with a probe up my cooter wondering where the feck she has gone?!?
She was much more attentive after his speech was finished. I know you were all entranced by it, but long speeches are difficult to tolerate when you are on a cold table with your feet in the stirrups and your ladyparts are swinging in the wind.
I felt every moment of those 18 minutes. Truly.
Anyway, Dr.J. will hopefully have some solutions. But I am kind of scared of those solutions, because really, surgery just never turns out well for me. It's that whole death thing....I'm just not sure how many more lives I have to risk.
It's kind of, well, a nightmare.
Monday, January 19, 2009
This is me, here. I've left it open for now, so if you want to follow me, go for it, but I can't promise anything profound. More likely lame. I have to say that the nicest feature of Twitter is that you can see exactly who is following you, unlike with blogs where anyone can subscribe or click and secretly lurk.
Which reminds me, it's De-Lurking week, so come on out people!!!
(Okay, that was last week or the week before, but so what, I'm a day late and a dollar short all the time...you expected fast on this?)
I have likely gained back a few pounds. My darling evil husband decided that if I had one beer, he should buy me a bottle of wine, and tempted me with many many sugary treats. So I cheated, and now I am getting back on the wagon sugar wise. A little is fine, but not this much.
I was very disturbed to read this story. I thought that things were getting better, but I guess not. This happens too often people, for women going through stillbirths and miscarriages. I remember telling some politicians and staff about this issue and they didn't believe me. They figured it was just more raving from the crazy dead baby lady. Not quite. At the end it talks about the laundry staff having to be treated for shock. Yeah, I'll bet. PTSD, nightmares, depression, flashbacks.
The trauma is overwhelming.
Trust me, I know.
Friday, January 16, 2009
132 people!!!! Woo-hooo!!!
Celebrated with one beer tonight. 140 calories of congratulations in a glass.
No I haven't decided what to do about the last post; I am likely going to do something cause I don't want to have any regrets if God Forbid something awful happens during her surgery.
But not today. Today I am thinking about good things.
Like my never ending gyne problems stopped long enough to let me and Mr. Cotta have a nooner. With a nap. Thank God for nannies and sitters or parents would never have uninterupted sex. Woo-hoooo!!!! Orgasms for all.
Like I saw the architect today and he and I worked out what to do as far as the reno. We are not going to do a new build because we would lose too much width on our narrow urban lot. And we are going to try and get all the things we want, like giant windows, but let go some of the things we don't need.
I am using a very loose "we" since my husband is not allowed to talk to the architect until he stops hyperventilating. Hopefully he will soon, but until then, we"re charging ahead.
Now scuse me while I go drink that beer....
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Mental, emotional pain, not physical.
These idiots phoned my husband again. Specifically my SIL, the wife of my birth half-brother. No, this time, they aren't asking for money---yet. They went out of their way to tell us how they are doing so fine and have jobs and a house, yadda yadda. But knowing them, I know that it's coming. I'm not a sister, I'm a bank machine.
The SIL keeps trying to paint herself as a some sort of saint who is trying to keep the family together by emailing me and asking me to talk to my mother. Meanwhile, she is the entire reason that the family doesn't speak. Yet she does not see the irony.....narcissism much?
Sigh, so the news she shares with my husband is that my birth mother has some sort of non-cancerous polyp in her colon. They couldn't get it during the colonoscopy, so she is having a laparoscopy. It's not malignant, and although there are risks, it will likely be fine. They have to take out a piece of her colon where the polyp is and reattach it to the bowel. Anyway, the incompetent idiotic surgeon at the teeny tiny local hospital she is going to described it in such terrifying terms that my mother ran out of the office and almost refused to get the surgery.
Why no, when faced with a problematic complicated surgery of course my mother didn't go to the closest large teaching hospital and get a referral for it to be done properly by an actual competent surgeon. She is going to have major surgery in the teeny itty-bitty hospital/local health clinic, and then be shocked when it doesn't go well. (Yes, I have been prejudiced by the studies that say practice makes perfect and we should go to Docs who have done procedures many many times....I also think that small rural hospitals should only do stitches and casts and leave the complicated stuff to bigger ones. Silly me....)
The doc who scared her was describing rare possibilities like a colostomy bag, and really, it won't happen, but he did tell her that and only later said, "rare", and so now she is terrified of getting the surgery. Idiot. She is scheduled, but who knows if she will show.
And my husband still didn't understand why I do not want to talk to all of them, until I broke down crying about all her stupid conditions on our relationship. (He gave me such a nice hug at that moment.) I tried so hard, for so long, and to her, it was never enough. She wants to recreate our lives as if we never had been separated, and I hate that.
You know, there are some things I'd really like to write now, but it would be hurtful to the birth mothers and adoptive mothers I know who are reading this blog so I feel like I can't. Good ol' people pleaser adoptee. Geez, I've been trained right....
So avert your eyes people. Please skip this next part if you are sensitive. Really.
I mean it.
I broke down crying and yelled, "She threw me away, and now she doesn't get to say how our relationship goes."
She did. She threw me away like I was nothing. No one forced her to give me up. And now she wants it her way or nothing at all. My opinions don't count.
So she gets nothing.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
I was 138ish. That by the way means that with clothes and glasses on, I was 138.9 or 139, and with clothes off and contacts in like in the morning before I get dressed, I was 138. I'm trying to weigh myself in the morning, same time of day, and not dressed, because I have discovered that clothes, and watches and glasses and belts and shoes can really change your weight! So you know---you think, hey I lost weight, and then you weigh yourself at night with a bunch of clothes and bam, you think you gained....yeah, I know, you all knew this, but on behalf of the ignorant here, be generous.
I am 135 right now, a week later. I was 134, but I go up and down here and there, so it's not bad. My bodyfat is 32%, which is a hell of a lot lower than it was before. (I told you I had no muscles...if you check the web, that is baaad baby.)
So I've stuck with the no alcohol regime, (12,000 extra calories per month if you have a couple glasses a night, eeek!!) and I am eating smaller amounts of normal meals, but all the same things. I am not buying smarties and Reese's peanut butter cups which are my major weaknesses, and I am trying to eat some more veggies, but I already have enough diet restrictions as it is, since I am severely lactose intolerant, and have other health issues, so I can't do any of the fad diets out there, or detoxing, or protein diets.
I am stuck with moderation. Nuthin' fancy. I already eat pretty low fat as it is, since everything I touch is dairy free, but I have to make the kids meals with some dairy and higher levels of fat or they will not have the normal weight gain they need. We try to keep the transfats to a minimum cause they aren't good for anyone.
But in the end, I just eat a smaller portion of whatever I was eating before. Like, instead of 8 chocolate cookies, I only eat two. If I eat none, I just feel bitter and deprived, so I decided not to ban chocolate treats completely.
Okay, as for renovations, we have discovered more leaks in the roof above Kaz's bedroom. And a major crack in the bathtub/shower handle, and I think we have mold in the house again because I am continuously stuffy and it isn't possible to have allergies like this in winter, unless I have mold somewhere again. So my poor darling husband is slowly starting to accept that he has to renovate sooner as opposed to later. The only question is how much to spend and how far to go. Personally, I want to do it right, not luxuriously, but nicely, and live here until the kids grow up and then we can move into a condo. He wants to spend as little as possible (Cheep, cheep cheep says the birdie!) and live here until we can't stand it any longer and then beg on bended knee for someone to buy it off of us. And I'm like, umm, why would we beg? Why would we put in cheap, crappy materials and just have to redo it in a few years when everything breaks? And then he hyperventilates and starts muttering about the market and apocalypse and armageddon and the end of the world as we know it. And I laugh. Cause if he was really worried, he'd stop spending so much money. And honey, can he spend....
But at least he's talking about it, so I have to give him some credit. Now I just have to call our poor architect and have the embarassing conversation about starting up again and by the way he can't show the husband his face because every single time husband gets an email, the hyperventilating starts again.
I looked at the BlogHer registration page and I'm trying to figure out how to sign up, and then realized, holy shit, I'll have to use my real name. I can't just show up with a bag over my face, a wallet full of unmarked bills and a business card with Aurelia on it, can I? I know lots of people use pseudonyms and for them, it's no big deal, but for me---it's personal safety. This is going to take some figuring out. I mean, I'll need the damn passport, and credit cards. And what do they put on your conference badge? Your fake name? Your blog address? Whatever you want?
I'm already planning my wardrobe here...hoodies, a wig, colored contacts, and a set of fake buck teeth.
This is going to be worse than that crime victims conference I went to a few years back, where the person running it decided to have the entire thing filmed and didn't tell anyone before. Then she announced that 80% of the non-police attendees were crime victims. Every single cop, judge, and lawyer in the place was walking up to the civilians on the coffee breaks and asking, "So, what kind of crime happened to you?", cause they had no idea what the hell else to ask. They were horribly uncomfortable and we were all ducking and hiding everytime a camera swung our way. (I mean, duh, we were all the victims of personal crimes, not corporate fraud. Sensitivity--not so much.) It was total utter hell. Most of us didn't want to walk up to the microphones to talk, so there was almost no participation.
But last years BlogHer seemed by all accounts to be very well-attended and lots of participation, so they must be better at it, yet there were pictures everywhere?
Okey-dokey people, I know some of you attended last year and didn't come out completely, soooo, how did you do it? Real Name? Blog Name? Did you tell some people some things, and say nothing to others? Did you have two cards with different stuff on them? Or is everyone magically completely cool?
As for the lasers and health stuff? I am going to call my GP and ask her for some referrals this week. I've been researching and the price and quality varies pretty dramatically. And who knows if they correspond? It's my eyesight at minimum, so I don't want to go cheap, but I don't want to spend stupidly.
Meanwhile, my period will not end, and my hormones are not acting pleasantly. So I'm going to have to get that under control. It's still not good, months later. I'm getting an ultrasound next week to check if the damn Fibroid ever shrank and left.
I have to know. Am I the only person in the blogosphere who still has IF-related health problems after finishing having kids? Cause none of you ever seem to talk about it, unless you are trying for another baby. And I have no intention of spending the rest of my natural life having my period 2 weeks out of 4. It sucks people. Really.
So help? Anyone? BlogHer questions and cooter questions?
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Today we're going to talk about the funny ladies of the world. Specifically the moms. Erma Bombeck is a woman I have always deeply admired. She and her compatriots in comedy, made it okay to laugh about being a mom and a wife, and not just a stepford clone. We could tell the world about yelling at our kids and chill about it, and no one minded. Hell, most of them got journalism awards and Emmies. I am pretty damn sure that when Erma wrote,"Being a child at home alone in the summer is a high-risk occupation. If you call your mother at work thirteen times an hour, she can hurt you," that no one called the police. In fact, I'll bet that was published in her weekly column and repeated on network television on Good Morning America, and guess what? No one even freaked on her and called Children's Aid. Like twenty years before blogs were invented, and everything!
What's that you say? Oh, that she wasn't infertile, she didn't realize how preshuuss her kids were and that's why she made fun of them?! Yeah, except that she was infertile, and her first child, a daughter, was adopted after they got the news, and her next two boys came as a surprise to her fertility doctor. And her I'm betting.
And she still wrote, "Children should be judged on what they are - a punishment for an early marriage."
But she was sane, right? She didn't have ADD like me, or bipolar illness like certain other moms, or post-partum depression. Weeeellll, except that actually she did have post-partum depression, and way back in the seventies, when nobody on earth was talking about it, she wrote a book on it. Here are some more bits of her writing I like. You should definitely read page 18. Honestly, it's like a manual for mommyblogging. Frankly, that exact column, "Motherhood - Love and Laughter" is the reason I blog. Because if I wasn't making fun of them, I would lose my fucking mind as I flush yet another toilet full of shit, that some mysterious almost teenage boy forgot to dispose of on his own. (You know how you think that when they are toilet trained, you are done dealing with their poop? Nope... every.damn.day.)
(Did I mention that I like to swear?)
(Fuckin A alright baby!)
It really does make me sad that we just don't seem to have that kind of humour nowadays. Everyone seems just so determined to be the perfect professional parent that no one is allowed to make a joke unless it involves puppies or kittens, or muffin recipes. I tried to talk about how I gave ground up adult food to the baby and was just being a whatever mom about feeding the kid, and I discover that you overanxious new mommies have given it a bloody name? And there are books, to take all the slacker fun out of it? Helllooo? What's next? I'm afraid to even guess.... Someday Sarah Silverman will have babies, and please God I pray that she makes fun of her kids and makes videos ridiculing them! Please? Please God?
I love Carol Burnett, and Lucille Ball, and Lily Tomlin, Bette Midler, Roseanne Barr, Gilda Radner, Brett Butler, Jennifer Saunders, and Dawn French. And lots of them made jokes about wanting to strangle their children and yell at them, and guess what? Not only did they rarely get scolded, and certainly no one on the planet ever accused them of abuse, but surprise, they got PAID for it.
Just like a lot of mommybloggers do.
In all seriousness, if there is anyone in the blogosphere who does not know what I am referring to, just go here and here. I agree with Tertia and Cecily on this one as you might have guessed. I am not linking to the original woman involved, because she wants the linking to end, but I do support her and hope she is okay. And I wrote this, because I wanted her to know that she didn't need to apologize to me or anyone else, IMHO. Erma never did, so fuck em all.
As a former abuse victim, I get why some people think they need to act, but guess what asshole, you need to act when you see a child actually being abused, not when you see a random writer on the net making a joke.
But I know what you are thinking, better safe than sorry, cause hey, what about the children?
Actually they do better if they stay with their parents, even abusive ones. Concern trolling is not helpful.
Yes, yes, you are not convinced, well, let's link to The Goudge Inquiry Report. There was yet another case filed today for yet another wrongful conviction of an innocent man who disgraced pathologist Charles Smith sent to jail. The man was grieving, in total agony, and he was arrested and told that he must have killed the baby, since well, you know, babies hardly ever die on their own. Dr. Charles Smith was kind of a concern troll in a way. He assumed that if a baby died, someone must be to blame, and he was going to punish them. Any and all off-handed remarks were evidence of a killer's heart. He made up the rest from there. No, that isn't a misprint. He made up all the forensic evidence, and hid anything that would exonerate the parents.
(Did I ever mention that he tesitified all over the US? And that he admitted to making up that stuff as well? And that all over the US there are likely innocent people in jail? Maybe some of the lawyers/prosecutors reading my post might want to do a search on their records. Just in case.)
In too many cases to count, on little more than the say so of gossip, with very little forensic evidence, the grieving innocent parents were sent to jail, and their remaining children adopted out, and never ever told that their parents were forced to give them up. When the parents got out of jail, their fertility was monitored, and if they got pregnant, they were forced to either have an abortion or give the new baby up at birth.
These children's lives have been destroyed, and their parents lives were destroyed, because no one cared about actual evidence of abuse. Instead, they felt like being, you know, "better safe than sorry."
Seriously, to the grieving moms out there, if, after your baby was stillborn, or died of SIDS, or pneumonia, or heart failure, you were arrested, and called a murderer, and sent to jail, and your older kids were taken away and adopted out to possibly abusive foster parents, and you were never allowed to have another living child again; what would you do?
And if it was because of a nosy neighbour, or a tweet, or bit of gossip, or a blog, would that make it okay, cause it was better to be judgemental and safe than sorry?
I don't think so.
I'm letting Erma have the last word.
There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.
Friday, January 02, 2009
I have decided to go to BlogHer in July in Chicago. I really want to meet all of you, or at least hang around on your cool kid coat tails. (I'll be the nerd who doesn't want anyone to know the her real identity, or the nerd who tells strangers she has a political blog in her name as a secret cover, but only tells the infertiles about her secret undercover identity as Aurelia. And if you understood that, you deserve a medal for grammer and comprehension. )
Yes, our house is falling apart, and although my husband freaks if I even mention the reno, I need to call the architect and get it going again. Mr.Cotta and I can afford the reno, and desperately need to reno, either big or small, but he has been freaked out by the economy and insists that we should wait until we have all the money in hand before we do it. Well, that will take a couple of years, and the house is now trying to tell us what the engineer already did. Either we spend serious cash repairing some things like roof and foundation this spring, or we reno. This year. No waiting allowed. Period. So I am calling the architect and asking him to just speak to me and he and I will do several plans up and work again, and then we'll see what we will see. I figure as long as he and I keep it away from the husband, he can live comfortably in denial and when and if he faces facts, I'll have a complete set of plans for him to look at. I'm not going to lie to him, I'll tell him I'm calling the architect, but it will be one of those things we never ever talk about, unless he asks and assures me he will be calm and reasoned about it.
Weight/Exercise: Never ever in my life have I had to diet after a baby. Breastfeeding is usually like liposuction for me. Not this time....I guess multiple pregnancies kind of do that. In August, I was 151 pounds. Bloody enormous for me since I am very short and small-boned. My usual weight is anywhere from 110-115, not muscled, and with muscle, should be about 120-125. With some diligence, mostly involving only taking a few cookies instead of a box, or one steak instead of two, or only having a few glasses of wine instead of 3 or 4, I had dropped to 138 recently. Some clothes fit better, and I felt better. Then I was out shopping for my christmas gift, (a fabulous new purse, a really really nice one, instead of the crummy mummy ones I've carried for years), and feeling awesome and beautiful and happy, and I saw a political friend who did not know about Julius. Big greetings! We chatted about politics, and he then he gestured towards my stomach and said, "So, you are expecting another addition to the family?" My heart sank as I realized that he thought I was obviously pregnant, when dammit, I ALREADY HAD the baby. I sort of ignored his question by just telling him about Julius and how great it was, blah blah, cause he is nice and he just made a mistake. And no, he shouldn't have asked that question of any woman, but still, he really did think that, which tells me that I have more weight to lose.
So as of Monday when the kids are back in school, no more cookies, no more treats, no more wine, AT ALL, and no more screwing around. At least until I get to a goal weight. Then I can have some treats again. Small portions, good food, and I really need to get my ass in gear. My abs are recovered, and I need to get some muscle going and some weight bearing exercise if I don't want to break a hip. I already have osteoporosis, so that's risk enough. I take lots of D and calcium, and I am back on HRT, but oh boy, I need to get my body back in shape. I'm 40, time to grow up.
Skin care - I'm going to see a dermatologist and maybe a plastic surgeon. I've been dicking around for years about all these freckles and sun spots and rough patches and pretending it didn't matter, and I'm young and who cares. But again, if I want to look good and not miss a case of skin cancer someday I need to pay attention. I spent lots of years burning and tanning as a child, and even though I reformed as a twenty year old, it's not enough. I already have this weird rough spot on my nose that I think is definitely not acne and needs attention. And yes, I will likely get some laser resurfacing and hair removal and scar removal and other things done that are purely cosmetic. I've always been a pretty good-looking woman and premature ovarian failure, plus age has really screwed with my skin and hair and nails. If I let it go, I'm going to look 50 or 60, not 40. Screw that. Looking my age, fine, looking twenty years older? Not on the table.
My eyesight: More lasers, this time for laser eye surgery. I'm bloody legally blind people. This sucks. I want to be able to see without contacts. I can live with occasional use of reading glasses, but not this. I looked into it before, but I was told that doing it immediately post-baby is a bad idea. Well, seven months later is fine. Time to get them done.
My non-existent career, job, education prospects: I need to finally apply to go back to school and get a second degree or another different degree. I should likely get some LD testing to help with this application process, I guess. It might explain to universities, why I have such an uneven resume and transcripts. I want to, and we can afford it, and it will make me happy. I could get another boring old job job, but I hated that, so why would I bother? I want to make some money doing something I love, not something I tolerate.
Letting go: I stupidly looked at the facebook group for my old high school and university. Now, THAT was depressing people. The kids who were bullies then are still bullies and still nasty and stupid and ignorant. Only this time, they run the alumni association. I met one a few years back in my neighbourhood, and even though she had been a bitch to me years ago, I smiled nicely. Well, she looked at me like I was a piece of shit on the bottom of her shoe. I think that maybe it's time to just walk away and never think about the cruddy awful people from my past again. Why am I wasting my energy on them? Bleccchhh.
Will it all work out? Who knows? Will I do any of this? Who knows?
Stay tuned and see what happens next!
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Please start selling some more of your houses. None of you seem to have any houses for sale, and I really really friggin need to buy a new house, k?
My basement has flooded twice and now part of my roof has fallen in in the last two weeks alone, and the bathtub no longer works, and I mostly am still smiling, but seriously? I need to reno, which darling hubs is not keen on, or I need to get a new place.
And none of you with the nice houses I want seem to be selling yet. Only the crappy houses like mine.
So please hurry up and sell, ok? Cause there is a bucket in my kid's room catching roof drips, and ummm, that sucks!!! And I am running out of good cheer and optimism.
Anyone have any?