New faces, new look maybe?

Two blogger meets to describe; first, I hung out with Patti and Mark, Pam and V., and Gil and her hubs down from Ottawa, at Pam's house. It was great and we had loads of fun. I could not bring the boys, they were sick and teething and studying for exams. But maybe next time? Anyway, everyone was wonderful, and I can't wait to get together again.

I met some very lovely women at the Toronto BlogHer meetup this past Saturday and I enjoyed myself immensely. Thank you for taking me Lisa! (She was my beard. Just in case.) In fact, after chatting with Her Bad Mother and everyone else, and mentioning that story about CATSA and breastmilk on planes (is that like snakes on a plane...?) guess what I saw today? This! Awesome, thank you thank you to everyone who reads and tweets and does whatever to help fix our Canadian mess!

I think that BlogHer '09 might work out even if I will be hiding in the corner behind my computer. Mostly because it seems that everyone else is going to do that as well, so it will be a crowded corner. Heh.

One funny thing. Last year Mel had blogged about blogger cards and how they get handed out with all your info, and you know I've been dithering about what to put on my badge and tell people. Well, it turns out that at blogger get-togethers, everyone introduces themselves as their real name and then says their blog name. And if you don't say your blog name, or url or something, then there is a long weird silence. Like---well---who are you?

And everyone is nice and nobody cares about details, but, I have to wonder, they are also likely not as crazy as me or as much of a naked blogger as I am. Although, after reading Niobe's confessions posts and Julia's secrets post, that may not be true, turns out y'all are as interesting and fucked up as I am, but nobody admits it except me. Two weeks ago, I was convinced that I was the only nutbar in the blogosphere, but now it's fer sure, I am not alone. Which is awesome, right? I need company! Otherwise people will think I am just talking to myself.

But to get back to my point, I need cards people, and not just the goofy plain typed ones with my real name and address for playdates. I need one with a design! Which means my blog likely needs a damn design! Something it has never really had. I just picked a blogger template and changed a few colors and started typing. Since I never actually look at my own blog, but just read comments on email, it never occurred to me that we might need to put some lipstick on this pig.

Until now.

So what should I do? Where do I start? I have no ideas, beyond hating the color green. Also hate peach. And I need some one to do it all for me including installing, because I actually can't do any of it. I can pay someone? I can type, and I talk a good game, but I'm always afraid to fiddle with settings. Plus cards. I know there are local places that print them, but how? Do I email it? Email what for that matter? Or draw something with crayons? Chalk on sidewalk? Sanskrit on paper?

Anyway, if you have any ideas for facelifts or bloglifts or contacts, pass 'em on. I may not remember to put on face makeup at this thing, but I'd like it if my website looked good. And if I do it on my own, the only look I'll dream up will involve the theme, "Cheap 'n Crummy."

Help!

Twitter

I'm on twitter, although I am still not one of the cool kids, but I'm getting there.

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.

Heroes with clay feet

So some of you may not have ever really read anything by my heroes. You know how much I admire Dr.Suess, aka Theodore Geisel. Well, he is lovely, but he isn't the subject today.

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.

Gee whiz.

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.

huh?

Someone actually found this blog using the Google search term "small octopus inside vagina".

Ummm, errr, ummm,

No, just no.

speechless here

October 15th

Before I go to sleep I just wanted to say that yes I have been thinking of my own lost babies and all of yours today. For more information go see www.october15th.com or check out Antigone's blog for more about Pregnancy and Infant loss Awareness Day.

Go Obama Go! I finally have politician who cares about stillbirth so maybe we can all get him elected and working for women's health.

Again...

The internet broke again and I spend all day fixing it with the help of the good citizens of India. And in case you were wondering, I fixed the whole internet, not just my corner of it.

And I did it backwards, in heels, dammit.

Without a nanny. Who went home sick at noon. Leaving me to fend for myself preparing the house for my sister-in-law to visit and see Julius for the first time. This btw is the sil who does not like me, but makes an effort because of my husband. Same for me towards her. And she and Mr.Cotta have been fighting about Mr.Cotta's brother P. and it's all really straight to hell in a handbasket.....so the family was gathered tonight to try and gingerly get along and make up and be nice and supportive.

And it worked, sort of. My estrogen is incredibly low, almost non-existent so I'm on edge like a madwoman, but I kept it in check and we all tidied up and stuff. Even so, I think that everyone we've met is freaked about something, like schools, or money, or politics.

Money mostly, this financial craziness on the markets has got everyone on tenterhooks, everyone worried, even when they don't have any real worries. Like us, for example? We're okay because we have concentrated on paying off debt. Credit cards, lines of credit, and the mortgage, all gone bit by bit, then we have saved up some money in cash, and we have income from the business, more income than before, simply because we paid down the debt and I'm not making interest payments to the evil banks. A far cry from four years ago when I sometimes had to pay the mortgage with credit cards, and be very very careful.

When it gets down to it, we don't have much invested because we didn't have any real money to invest, apart from a little in RRSPs. (retirement plans in Canada, for my US readers) And most of that is in boring stuff like bonds and things.

Meanwhile, I'm continually amazed by the otherwise sensible people I know who have huge debts and then in the last few weeks, took whatever money they had and tried to play the market and short sell risky stocks. (They figured they could beat the market, make a killing and pay off their losses. *Eyeroll*) Or others who had large amounts of stock and investments and had never even thought of paying down any debts. Just lived like they were having fun forever. Now---they are wiped out financially and worried about paying the bills. They can't cover their margin calls, much less the groceries.

And those people, are now infecting others with their fear. Like some friends of mine who have government jobs, steady income, guaranteed pensions---they are FINE, but are freaking out by association. Others who are retired, no debt, and were very conservatively invested and have no losses are also freaking out by association. I mean, some people are recession proofed in every economy yet their perception is that they are not. Interesting how human psychology works, eh?

I personally am not going to let this thing affect me. It's bad enough when your hormones are on a rollercoaster, but when you let other people's finances affect you? Nope, no way. If we get into trouble, then I'll change my tune, but until then, I'm just going to feel bad on behalf of others.

So how many of you are in trouble? Little trouble? Lots? Enough to screw up your fertility funding? Your houses? Your health?

I can't believe this

I am upset today and I need some help. Recently, my husband was checking his googles, or rather his Cuils, and he discovered that his name was entered on a geneology website.

Without his permission.

And so was my name, and our kids, and his parents, and my birth parents, with all our birthdates and biographical information for all the world to see, no password, no privacy protection, no nothing.

Without our permission.

And the most upsetting part of it, is that it doesn't have my real married name on it, it has my ADOPTIVE name, for fuck's sake, even though I changed it legally well over 10 years ago. And the person who created the website?

My birth mother.

Who constantly does things like this---then is mystified as to why I get upset with her afterwards. She constantly violates boundaries that we have discussed, promises to do better next time, then knowingly does it again in some other way.

Now some of you may wonder what the big deal is, since you have your lives on the web, with your kid's names and photos, but first of all, that is your choice, and your decision. You want to do that for your family, fine, but I would like to make a different choice, and she has taken that decision away from me.

More importantly, I have other concerns about my adoptive name being used on the web. I have never blogged about this, although I have spoken about it with some of you in person. You see, my adoptive parents were very very awful people, who should never have been allowed to adopt any children, but CAS really doesn't do proper checks in this province. They were violent, and still are. They do not know where I live, or that my children exist, or that I ever met and married my husband. In an age of grandparent's right's court cases, and the impossibility of ever getting a conviction against them for the abuse they perpetrated on me---I'd rather live in safe and secure anonymity.

The police, courts, and Children's Aid in this province have a pathetic record of protecting women and children from violence. After the Randall Dooley inquiry, I thought that maybe it might improve, and after all the money that the Liberals put back into violence prevention and victim's services, I really thought the CAS and the cops might get a clue. But no, disaster has struck again, and another child has been killed, as a direct result of CAS incompetence. Two different agencies didn't give a shit about doing their job and a child was murdered.

Based on what I've seen, depending on the system to save you is to stupidest thing a crime victim can do in Ontario. Really, when the auditor general of Ontario and ombudsman both agree that CAS has serious structural issues and needs oversight, yet the system refuses any all reforms, there is only one conclusion I can reach. That protecting the bureaucrat's turf is more important that protecting the citizens of Ontario. Especially the most vulnerable ones.

And as an aside, for those of you who think that women should never change their last names to their husband's name----THIS is the biggest reason why we should have the choice to do it. As long as other women in society do it, I have cover. Using my married name, means that my credit cards and university transcripts could be changed, without having to tell everyone the whole story, and convince them to help me. Instead, they just think I'm like other women, blending in to the crowd, yet protected by Privacy legislation. It really is the perfect cover for anyone who wants to flee an abusive spouse, or parent, or a bad boyfriend. Would it be nice if the system worked and they could be arrested, and I could divorce them as my adoptive parents, and just have no contact at all? Suuuure---it would also be nice if sunshine and puppies came out of my ass, but that's a fat chance too. So I'm doing whatever I have to keep myself and my kids safe, and fuck anyone who thinks that isn't a feminist choice.

To sum up, my adoptive parents might be able to find me, but it would be very very difficult.

Until now, when my birth mother, with full and complete knowledge of the situation, made it easy to find me and figure it out.

Passive aggressive much, Mom? Sigh...

My husband is writing her an email, asking her to take it down, or change it, but she might say no, just to drive me nuts. So if anyone out there reading this, has any ideas on how to get it off the website, technical or tactical or whatever, I'd be grateful.

I need all the help I can get.

Random bits

Mac had his birthday party today and it was a blast. We had it at a children's party centre in town that resembled a disco and invited his entire class and they entertained the kids and served pizza and pop and ice cream cake, and lordy I had nothing to do and it was great for that reason alone. I've done parties at my house before, but this year, I couldn't face it. Requires too much energy. So I outsourced it.

I am surrounded by wrapping paper. It looks like a toy store threw up in my living room.

I almost cancelled the party by the way. Turns out Mac lost his temper today at school and punched another kid square in the face after being teased. He got sent to the principal's office. We decided that he got punished enough at school, and we're just going to practice some more on how to control our anger. Sigh...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, on the last post, what I meant by live blogging labour was that I could update with my blackberry by using the mail to blogger address function. (Under settings for those of you who use Blogger.) It works from cellphones as well, but I've never been able to use the tiny keypads very well, so I thank God I've got the qwerty keyboard.

Why? Mostly because I tend to get easily distracted and am unable to focus on contractions or my loving husband's face or whatever all the granola people say you should do. I can't take ADD meds during labour due to the interactions with various meds they might have to put me on, and possibly my blood pressure going up, so basically I need something to do while I'm lying there painfree from the epidural and yet---so bored. (Note: I can't focus much before the epidural either. I just get panicked from the adrenaline.)

Yoga is out. So is sex, and getting drunk. All the staff and my husband all seem endlessly quiet and shushing or they want me to try to do things I am neurologically incapable of, like focus on my body or the stupid monitor. Meanwhile, every passing noise, every passing visual has me thinking up new ideas I want to talk about, but no one to talk to. So maybe it will work, maybe it won't. Who the hell knows? I just want to try to talk with people who get it.

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I have found some stuff on various blogs/websites that I thought I'd mention.

True Mom Confessions - hilarious. Me written a hundred times over.

NYTimes article on preemie survival rates - very nicely explained.

Dr.Joanne Cacciatore's personal blog - founder of the MISS foundation - amazing what she has accomplished. I admire her so much.

Yes, you are - a great post about how simple it is to be a feminist, even for imperfect, leg-shaving, makeup wearing SAHM breeders like me. I count to, yes I do. And to anyone who says I don't--well fuck you and the halo you rode in on.

A great list of stuff you need after you have a live baby - Alexa asked and the blogosphere answered, 200+ comments later, probably the most comprehensive list ever. I thought my comment to her might interest you, so I'm reprinting it here on my blog, and yeah it's bizarre, but so am I, so I figure it fits, and thought you might want to read it and get a laugh.

"Hmm, everyone has mentioned some great things, and I haven’t read every comment, but things I needed the most were not baby stuff.

I needed many many frozen meals in my freezer, snacks, bottles of water and juice boxes, and protein bars. Remote controls on everything, a DVR or Tivo, a wireless headset for the tv/stereo so I could watch something at 3 am while nursing but not disturb the baby, and a wireless headset/earpiece for the phone plus a beltclip for it.

Batteries-rechargeable, a zillion of every size and shape.

Extremely comfortable shoes and clothes that layer so you don’t have to change constantly when you have no time to.

Extra underwear when you have no time to wash clean stuff.

A nice leg wax and mani/pedi before she leaves the NICU and comes home so that you can feel okay wearing shorts in the summer when you go for walks. (I'm getting a mani-pedi and wax before labour provided I don't get an early surprise. I know that I'll never ever get to shave my legs after Dinkypie is here.)

Secret Platinum Soft solid antiperspirant white, not clear, so that you can skip showers for a few days and never ever smell. (I swear to God, I’ve gone three days in the woods with no BO when there were no showers available.)

Sign up for online banking, and get all your bills delivered electronically. Sign up for as many online services as possible so that if you can’t go out on a certain day, you don’t have to. Start stocking up on basics like paper towels, toilet paper, and toothpaste.

Earplugs, only to be used when you can see the baby, to prevent insanity.

Yes, unconventional, but what I needed.

Final assvice: Remember, when the plane is going down, the pilot puts their own oxygen mask on first, then helps everyone else. If the pilot doesn’t take care of themselves, the plane crashes."

I forgot to mention actually that all new parents should stock up on vodka, wine, and scotch, plus cleaning ladies and/or nannies, plus a carload of valium. Take the nannies liberally and the chemicals sparsely, whether you are breastfeeding or not, because baby needs a relaxed mom, but not a drunk one. A little bit of Mother's little helper never hurt. Use in moderation.

Assume that your husband has died or moved to Taiwan. That way, if he helps as much as you want you will be grateful to God for the miracle of true participatory fatherhood, and if he (more likely) hides at work all day and night and never helps at all, you will not be hurt, surprised, or full of resentment, because after all, he is either dead or has moved to Taiwan.

Toss all your pride overboard, learn to ask for help, and accept that you will fuck-up in ways you never ever imagined possible. You will drop the kid on their head, they will get horrendous diaper rash, you will forget doses of medicine, and you will forget to strap in the carseat properly one day. The lower your expectations are from the start, the better you will feel when you don't actually kill your own baby. If you start out trying to be The Perfect Mother, then you are only giving yourself a higher height to fall from and you will break your legs along the way.

Only God is perfect, moms are human.

That said, I will forget all this soon, and need generous reminders as I tear myself to pieces for all my fuck-ups-to-be. In a few months, when I start to beat myself up, do remind me.....

Too many things

I have so many things to blog about like the new Horton Hears a Who movie, and the politics of Dr.Suess, and Juno, and that episode of Law & Order:SVU last night and my goal to write a layman's explanation of my gene, PAI-1 4G/4G, cause nobody knows much about it, and I am seriously blocked, both in commenting and replying to emails. And this time it's not just pregnant brain. A lovely woman emailed me and her situation has been on my mind for days now. She has gone through retained placenta after her beautiful child was stillborn and so many many other sad things. (I think she's in the Pacific Northwest?) My heart is breaking for her. I just don't know what to write. Any ideas?

But really, the big problem is that I'm also ashamed of my arrogance. I recently told a different woman who emailed me that I was perfectly fine to hear all about her issues because I've been dealing with it for so long, like hey, I'm over all that grief stuff, right? Totally overconfident.

That was a big fat lie.

9 years since Matthew died, and contributing to Blogging for Choice 2008 day yesterday was too much. Last year's post will have to do I guess. I might think up another one for the Canadian Blogging for Choice 2008 day. Of course, that would require facing the four and a half years since Mira died when I can't even look at the U/S pictures. Three and a half years since Georgia died and I can only blog about it in short bursts. Don't get me wrong, many of the details aren't as sharply painful as they once were. Before I got pregnant I could go for days without obsessing about them and ruminating over details. But now, they are present all the time, on my mind.

Why they died. How they died. Did someone screw up? How can I prevent this from happening again? Did Georgia have to die? If I had used heparin shots then, would I have a three year old? Or did Mira & Georgia die because they were female? Is this baby alive, not because of heparin shots, but because he's a boy? Does my uterus kill female fetuses in some weird immunological way? How am I going to deal with the next 20 weeks? Heck, at this point, how do I tell my myriad causual acquaintances I'm pregnant? I can't hide it anymore, and I feel foolish with some people knowing and others not knowing. And I really don't want to tell my entire obstetrical history to somebody at a cocktail party.

I thought I had safely put this all back in the cupboard, but all it takes is reading something just a little too familiar or talking with my OB about all the decisions we have to make, based on my history, and I am right back where I started. And I know I'm not alone in this sadly.

I saw an old friend from my bereavement support group yesterday. I was shopping with Maddie, and this woman was shopping with a friend of hers. We met in a children's clothing store, of all places. She was looking for her things for her three boys, and I was contemplating buying something for the baby. She said hi, and I looked up and and said hi back and she congratulated me. (Apart from my obvious size, everyone in our group has an eagle eye and is always on bumpwatch.) I told her all my news, and turned to introduce my friend, but she had gone to the other end of the store. So we said goodbye and promised to get together for coffee.

I asked Maddie why she had left, and she said that when my old friend first saw my stomach, she had an absolutely stricken look on her face, which she quickly covered. She thought it was best to leave us alone. I was really surprised about this, because V.'s losses were so long ago and she has been a group leader and has seemed so together for so long. She has spoken to groups of professionals and newly bereaved moms and dads and reporters, and held it together no problem. Knowing that even she still has issues around seeing a pregnant woman is well, quite a revelation to me.

It never ends, does it? It gets quieter and smaller and we can "handle" it and it seems like nothing at all. Until it's a something. Even for a woman like her, who has subsequent successful pregnancies and is completely finished with pregnancies----it's never totally healed.

This is a confused and rambling post. I'm going to go. I just want you to know, I love you all, I just don't have the right words to comfort you sometimes.

It's not you. It's me.

Nerd, Geek, or Dork?

Your Score: Modern, Cool Nerd

60 % Nerd, 78% Geek, 47% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd and Geek, earning you the title of: Modern, Cool Nerd.

Nerds didn't use to be cool, but in the 90's that all changed. It used to be that, if you were a computer expert, you had to wear plaid or a pocket protector or suspenders or something that announced to the world that you couldn't quite fit in. Not anymore. Now, the intelligent and geeky have eked out for themselves a modicum of respect at the very least, and "geek is chic." The Modern, Cool Nerd is intelligent, knowledgable and always the person to call in a crisis (needing computer advice/an arcane bit of trivia knowledge). They are the one you want as your lifeline in Who Wants to Be a Millionaire (or the one up there, winning the million bucks)!

Congratulations!

Follow this link to take the test yourself.

I realize that this doesn't add up to 100%, but I'm not concerned about the math. In the meantime, I owe about 22 people apologies because I owe them emails, and in my desperation to make each and every email perfect and long and voluminous and accurate, I'm simply not getting them done. Same for comments, and damn I need to stop loitering on your blogs and staring at them. You don't need me to write pithy brilliant comments each and every time do you? Or 100 word essays? Can I get away with it?

From this test....can you tell why I am such a geek?

Anyway, ultrasound today, yes, the baby is still there!!! Weeeeee!! Wiggling around ever so adorably. My Doctor was going to use the doppler since I'm getting my full 18 week ultrasound on Monday but I told him that I just couldn't take only hearing the heartbeat. I need to SEE this baby. And you know what? It's true, I am much much happier and more relaxed right now. I just keep remembering the baby looking at me and thinking about it's little arms waving at me. Lowers my blood pressure instantly.

And another rule I instituted today was that I no longer want to know about my weight. I'll stand on the scale, facing away from the number window, and they look and write it down. I never ever want to find it out, unless I need to for some serious medical reason. I had that rule when I was pregnant with Kaz and Mac, and I did just fine with eating and gaining weight correctly. Anytime someone did tell me my weight, (in an attempt to reassure me that everything was okay) I turned into a control freak and started trying to gain or lose weight quite desperately in an effort to control something that just isn't an issue worth thinking about for me. And after my last week of crazy not sleeping and worrying about nutrition and every calorie going into my mouth? No, this is ending right here and now, cause like I need any more things to obsess about? I've never had gestational diabetes or gained too much weight. (I did gain way too much water at the end of both pregnancies along with blood pressure that soared, but that has zip fuck all to do with how much food I ate, apart from sodium content.) And I lose it all breastfeeding afterwards. Too the point where I have to drink Ensure to avoid looking gaunt.

So, I celebrated the new I-don't-know-my-weight-rule by indulging in a sudden craving I had for thin crust pizza, and ate the entire thing by myself. Plus a box of Rosebud chocolates. Then ate dinner. And dessert. Mmmmmm, baby wants more chocolate....mmmmmmm.

Thank you by the way for all the advice and back up on the last post. Really, I needed it a lot. I have abandonment issues and control issues and this particular person really pisses me off, because of the ADD thing. I hate her, but Mr.Cotta rarely sees her and since he is the kindest most generous person on earth when it comes to viewing others....sigh he is oblivious to her. Everyone I've spoken to agrees that he should never see her again, but I also know that the best way to piss him off is to issue an ultimatum. He'll refuse to follow orders, because he doesn't think he should be ordered around, and then he'll either lie, or we'll have a huge fight. So---he lives with the knowledge that I despise her, and that if he ever cheated on me I'd take him for every cent he has, and then teach him the REAL meaning of testicular torsion.

It's our bizarre version of detente. He tolerates me being around political operatives in a male dominated environment like the Liberal Party, many of whom are former boyfriends, etc. Okay, admittedly they show respect for my married status now and the endless pregnant status is a bit of a turn off, so hey, it's not like there's much to threaten him, but still, some husbands would freak if their wife went to three day parties in other cities and got drunk in hotel bars with a 12-1 male to female ratio. And you never know, I could get skinny and sexy again, and the tables could turn.

In the meantime, it is what it is. Now where the hell did I put that extra chocolate?

No resolutions here

I've decided that for me, resolutions always imply that I am currently inadequate in some way. They seriously bite into my self-esteem, and are not very productive in terms of making changes in my life.

For the world, for casual conversations, I'm going to list something frivolous like, "I resolve to finally learn how to play the piano." Takes care of cocktail party chatter anyway, right? No need to bare my soul to strangers that way. But for real, nope, nothing, nada.

I'm just going to keep being me and try to have this baby, and muddle my way through the rest. It's the best imperfect me can do.

I'm not slagging anyone's choice to make a resolution btw, maybe it works better for them to have a specific goal. Whatever gets you through the night, right?

Speaking of poor self-observation skills, I can't decide which post I should submit to Mel's 2007 Creme de la Creme list, and I want to do it, since I did it last year, but I don't know which one is my best. Sooo, buds, my readers, can you tell me which post you think is my best? Is there anyone in particular that you think stands out? I'm not asking you to read through my entire blog or anything, I'm just wondering if you can think of something good you liked in particular.

Off to do many errands and maybe go to a New Year's Eve Party. Take care all, and have a happy one.

Who Am I?

I'm doing a bit of double take right now, since I noticed another Aurelia is in the blogosphere. Reality is that anyone can use a pseudonym but I have to admit, with this one I never thought I'd find another. The other Aurelia appears to be a mommyblogger but she doesn't have quite the same kind of history I do. Oh, who am I kidding---no one on earth has a history as bizarre as mine! I am such a freak....I may have to start signing off as Aurelia Cotta again to avoid confusion. Hmmm...

Anyway, if you see someone who signs off as Aurelia on comments, double check if it's me. I don't mind being blamed for whatever I do, but I don't want to be blamed or credited for things someone ELSE does, hehe, unless it's really awesome and cool...in which case, assume it's definitely me, don't bother to check.

Also, I'm working on a post for tomorrow all about Bea's questions and some of the comments and answers she's had. I had a really really really long comment about it today and then figured I was hogging the comments so shortened it, but it's damn hard to answer it well. I think it's too hard for one blogger or even a few. Go over and see what I mean. If you've ever been infertile, had a loss, had a child, lost a child, or hell, just contemplated the meaning of life, you'll be intrigued.

Amazing how your friends can ride to the rescue

I was so depressed this morning I didn't even look at the newspaper. And Megan, who commented on my blog's last post, (second Megan in comments-two different Megans) just mentioned that the Globe and Mail has a story about Infertility Bloggers, and some of my most favourite women are mentioned! Gil, and Mel, and Julie, and Tertia are all quoted. (Megan, by the way, if you do feel like pointing out this story to the PMO and the communications people there, it might be a good thing, especially considering the Feds have a long way to go when it comes to treating bereaved moms and the infertile decently. Email me, we can chat! I am full of good ideas.)

After last night, I felt like I'd been kicked in the head, and after reading this, and all of your lovely supportive comments, (and emails) damn I feel better. After all, if Gil can be brave, then maybe I can be a little less freaked out right? And maybe, just maybe I can try to remember that there are so many infertiles in the Liberal Party that trying to figure out which one is me, might be harder than I thought. (Okay, everyone else is in the closet besides me and Dion, but STILL, it might be difficult. ) And if they do things that are unfriendly, then maybe that makes them the big assholes, right?

Sigh....hoping, but I do feel a touch better.

I have to go see my genetics doc right now, and figure out if the odds of having another Trisomy 18 baby, at my age and with my shitty old ovaries are "maybe", "possibly", or "totally fucking guaranteed." Dr.Eyebrows says DHEA improves egg quality, but who the hell knows, right?

Oh, and bonus! I have to go alone, Mr.Cotta just called to say that he has to go run and urgently deal with a crisis with a client. Nice---I'm facing a firing squad, and he's going to hold some rich dudes hand. Lovely. No where the hell did I put that valium? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

So need some help with the paranoia

I had a visitor today from Canada's political scene, in fact, from Ottawa. I think it was a fellow infertile, and no, it wasn't any of the regular visitors I have who work in government departments. I don't mind you guys, because most of you seem to be bloggers or fellow moms, or infertiles just surfing by. No---this was a visitor from a very political place. And the only posts they looked at were the posts that they thought they could use to identify me. Most infertiles never notice my political posts, and most political visitors never look at my infertile posts. But this was different. They searched for specific details about the real me.

Worst part? They didn't identify themselves by email or comment, and they might be a friend or a political enemy, or shit, a frenemy. I'm stressed and I'd like to blog about something else causing me severe anxiety, but I'm kind of freaked now. Because someday, someone is going to come up behind me and say, "I know you are Aurelia, and I'm going to expose you," and because I react badly to blackmail, well, I'll just tell them to do whatever, and let the chips fall where they may.

Which sounds very nonchalant, and really, I feel sick.

I hope I'm wrong, and I don't know what to do. There's no way of knowing who saw that screen even if I track the IP address to the exact office. And of all the weeks to do this to me, this has to be the worst one possible.

So, I'm now tired and paranoid, and miserable. Help.

A man stands up

You know what I find mystifying? That Brenda Batisse is still not getting the help she needs, yet her friends and relatives have LOTS of time to google and blog search for their own names and hers. The number of searches with her name or theirs is enormous. Their narcissism is pretty pathetic actually.

Back on this post, someone left a comment, go look and then read my reply.

Anonymous, I assume you are the boyfriend in question, or a friend or an associate, because none of the men I know in real life would ever have the nerve to make such a pathetic excuse. A real man stands up. He doesn't weasel out of his duty to his family.

So, shut up. We all have to work, but if you have to go out of town, and leave your very far along pregnant girlfriend all alone, then you make sure she has people with her who will watch her and take care of her if she goes into labour early, or has, ohhh, I don't know, ANY problem at all. Obviously no one did. Brenda was abandoned.

You can't just have a baby die at home, go through labour & delivery like that, and not have anyone figure it out. Anything past the first trimester----the whole world knows it, either through the pain, or the blood, or the altered mental status of the woman concerned. For pete's sake, my neighbours, my friends, my associates know everything about my pregnancy just by looking at me. They hear everything, know everything, and I'm in faceless, depersonalized Toronto, for pete's sake! Small towns are supposed to be even worse for nosy neighbours.

The fact is that she didn't feel she could depend on this guy and share the truth, or she would have. Even if she didn't want to call anyone, doctors have lists of people they call in case of emergency labour or a mother or baby death, (They may not say it out loud to pregnant women, but that's why they ask for those names and numbers.) The sheer volume of forms I have already filled out this pregnancy alone with names, phone numbers, contacts is ridiculous, and I'm only 10 weeks along.

The Doctor had to have known something was wrong when she stopped showing up for OB visits. You get measured & examined every single time. And pregnant women don't just disappear and not go to appointments, so why wasn't her Doctor trying to find her?

If the hospital did not call the family, or the boyfriend or the emergency contacts, and get her some help when she was obviously in shock, and mentally traumatized from the loss, then they were negligent. At minimum, the hospital would've needed the father's or family's help to make funeral arrangements, sign legal papers, for birth and death registration, and stillbirth certificates, because it's not a like a body can just disappear.

If the hospital simply ignored all that then the hospital and her Doctor should be sued to within an inch of their lives.

But the lawyers aren't doing that, so that tells me that something else, that something awful is going on in that family.

Again, Brenda needs help, and maybe the system doesn't want to hold her boyfriend or her family or her hospital or her community responsible. They just want to heap blame on her head, and escape any moral or legal responsibility.

Well, tough shit, not on this blog.

HERE, the boyfriend and every other jerk who abandoned her in her time of need takes equal blame, and Brenda gets forgiveness.

Now, get off the net, and go pay attention to your family.

Fuzzy thinking

Many fuzzy bunnies have been hopping around my head. I'm wiped tired, and unable to string a decent sentence together.

There are a dozen things I want to blog about and comment about, but none of them make any damn sense, because I want to blog about them, but I don't want anyone to KNOW I'm blogging about them. Kind of difficult on the internet, no?

Like some crazy Jesus freaks I found on the net, who believe in dominating their wives and hurting them and the wives think it's OKAY because they deserve it. (And no, this isn't consensual sex play, this has no safe words, it's just creepy.) Stockholm Syndrome personified. The ultimate trainwreck of all time. I swear if I could find these women in real life, I'd call 911 in a heartbeat. Blech, I have to stop thinking about this.

And then there is the infamous journalist wannabe mommyblogger who now has a kid going to school. She blogs under her own name, and unlike with us pseudononymous bloggers, I think she has a certain responsibility to shut up when she blogs about someone she knows, because she and her blog target could be recognized by others. I take great care to not identify anyone by name unless they are a public figure and a fair target. IMO, any logical person would try to be nice to the other parents, and say nothing about the teachers and school on her blog that wasn't perfectly lovely.

But not her....instead my dear friend got blogged about and denigrated for asking this woman to be the parent class rep. and possibly volunteer for various school trips, skating, etc. Now, lots of parents don't volunteer at the school, and lots of people don't want to be involved, but what's the harm in politely asking? They asked everybody else. Like SHE'S so special?

I guess to a woman who truly never wanted to be pregnant or have a child and has written about her disgust and dislike for the entire process in the newspapers for years, it makes sense that she wouldn't actually want to be involved with her kid's school. And no---she didn't write the stuff we write, like wow, I love my kids, but geez this part is hard/frustrating/boring, yadda, yadda. Instead she has used her kid for column and book fodder like so much trash. Like? She hired a nanny full-time right away so wouldn't have to actually change a diaper or make a bottle, and wrote about it. She refused to even attempt breastfeeding because she didn't want saggy breasts. (She has them anyway...she'd fail the pencil test by a mile.) She asked for a medically unnecessary c-section because she didn't want to her vagina to stretch out. (Who cares about the whole dead baby risk of medically unneeded c-sections, having a dead kid is no big whoop, right my friends? *eyeroll*) Once, as a bet, a bunch of us scanned through all her columns and books, and did not read one complimentary, kind, loving word about her daughter until the kid was nine months old!

This woman truly makes motherhood sound worse than the Bataan Death March.

Anyway, some of you will know who I'm talking about, if you want confirmation, leave your email in the comments, or email me and ask. Don't write her name in the comments. I'm not linking to her---because someday her daughter will learn how to use Google, and discover Mommy Dearest never actually gave a shit about her except to make a quick buck. Well, it won't be from this blog.

And yes, in case you are wondering, my daughter Mira would be the same age as her daughter is now, except that she died. The irony.....

Many tasks await me

So, didn't get the phone, or the Ipod Touch because I ran into a moron at the Rogers Store at the Eaton Centre downtown. I should've known better than to go there because that mall is filled with cute little twerps who only use cellphones to figure where the next club night blowout is being held. The salesguy looked like he's just rolled out of a drug den, complete with a nasty bruise on his head, a bleeding cut turning into a scar, and hangover.

Not exactly a corporate star....

I may try a store downtown, maybe one at First Canadian Place or Commerce Court, because those guys wear suits and don't smell like crack, but I am definitely not putting up with anyone telling me that I'm going to have pay some outrageous price plan for surfing the web on a phone, or accessing email. (The hysterical part? He was trying to talk about internet access on a phone, but had never heard of an RSS feed. I don't expect the average person to know it, but a guy selling me a pocket computer or web-enabled phone---duh, of course he needs to know that.) And here in Canada, we have the highest cell phone rates in the world, the most expensive internet access, and a crazy system of oligopoly that would make anyone else in the world file a class action lawsuit so fast it would make these jokers' heads spin.

For example, we now have number portability, and guess what happens? Yep, all three major carriers refuse to give deals to anyone switching carriers and have made it clear that they aren't encouraging it. Does that sound like free market competition to you? Hardly, more like collusion, IMO. Plus, I can't get flat rate unlimited deals at all, even though Rogers quite clearly advertises an unlimited plan right here. Can you say false advertising? Yes, I have a screenshot in case they erase it, so far, they just keep protesting to me that unlimited only means 25 MB, too which I laugh, since the dictionary definition is obviously quite different.

There is no logical reason why I shouldn't be able to buy an iphone here in Canada, but I can't. The ludicrous reason why is apparently because it would work on Wifi access and not just cell sites, and Rogers, Bell, & Telus are quite desperate to make sure I have to pay per kb, or on a permanent monthly subscription for the rest of my bloody life. God forbid Ted lose a nickel of profit. *eyeroll*

So why do I need an unlimited flat rate plan? Simple, just checking Facebook was 472 kb everytime I loaded a page, and 25 MB a month goes pretty fast that way. Getting email synched on a blackberry uses hardly anything, as long as it's text, but add a few attachments, or click on a webpage, or check bloglines and I'm going to run out in 3 seconds flat.

So, I'm stuck with either waiting for the iphone to come to Canada, unlikely in the near future, or getting a crappy phone only usable for phone calls, and buying an iTouch ipod so that I can surf the web for free (I can get a flatrate per month here, but only for the Toronto core) and read my email and blogs without lugging the laptop all over town.

This is very very ummmm inefficient, uncompetitive and totally outrageous. Another item on my large list of things that must be changed in the world, sigh....

But it is distracting as I wait for tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm nice and nauseated, and feeling rather wiped out tired, so hey maybe there's still something in my uterus of doom, and not just a puppy?

Distract me, and tell me how much you guys pay for surfing on your phones, or blackberries, or just your cellphone bills? Anonymously if you like, but seriously, how much per month and in which countries/states?

Technical interlude

My bloglines are all 'effed up. I am missing some posts from some of you, and bizarrely many other blogs have reissued old posts I have already read.

So my absence isn't on purpose....I currently have over 1000 posts to read, but really probably more like only 100? I just can't find the new ones in amongst the old? Am I the only one this is happening to?

Or is could be the upset stomach and nausea that I am suffering from. I'm sure it's not a symptom of anything except the meal I had yesterday at a lovely restaurant. Normally one of my favourites, it's a French restaurant with a beautiful yellow decor and windows filled with sunshine.

I had fabulous fresh hot baguettes; then seared tuna on a bed of avocado to start, cassoulet for my main course, and mango and passionfruit sorbet for dessert.

Fabulous meal---until I felt sick and was in the bathroom all night. I am too tired tonight to think.

And my stomach feels to horrid to sleep. This can't be the meal's fault, right? Please? It must be some virus I caught by accident?

Oh, and to the new lurkers who are hanging around? Your IP addresses are making me paranoid, especially the government ones. If you are a fellow infertile, okay...if you are watching me and monitoring what I say for your department communications strategy....uncool.

Delurk, I don't bite even when I am bitchy and tired. But I am another paranoid psycho according to some people, so maybe I should live up to my rep?

Duuuuuuuudes

(Camp drama continues...almost resolved, I'm trying to write something coherent now, just had to get this other bit out.)

Just had to get the surfer dude out of my brain. Ahem.

See, either surfer dude was in there, because I keep seeing double or triple or well, 23 times over every time I look at your blogs in bloglines. Does anyone else have this problem? I mean.....none of you have actually uploaded 15-35 posts in the last 4 days right? Cause there is no way I really have hundreds of posts to read. Must be a malfunction....probably only 20 or 30 when I drill it down, right?

Although, on that subject----could all of you take a peek and look at what your feeds are set to? For those of you who don't know what that is, go under settings, and feeds, and set them ALL to full. Some of you have them on partial or title only, or eeeeek OFF, which means that when things get screwed up like this I will never be able to find you to read you.

And I want to. Badly. I am feeling rather ranty and outraged on behalf of several of you who have had to go password protect or move or take down your blogs.

Someday someone has to explain to me why this happens. We are supposed to be an advanced civilization, yet, at a moment's notice ordinary human beings seem to descend into Lord of the Flies. Or Grade 6 prom night. Stalkers come out of the woodwork, friends spy on us instead of courteously trying to help, families don't like what we say....even when we blog pseudononymously and their freakin' names aren't even ON the internet.

So in the spirit of being kind to others, go visit my friend Thrice. She is struggling with ADD, heart failure, a difficult marriage, and trying to parent her kids after infertility and almost dying in the last few months. And she was oh-so-lucky to get some "advice" today from a passerby.

Sigh....

Go show her some love. For me. Thanks y'all! *Smooches*

My new baby!

Ok, so it's not THAT kind of new baby...but still, a new Mac Book Pro laptop is insanely cool for a boring old mommy blogger like me to get. My old computer was dying and we had a little extra cash, and I was going to just get it refurbished and be out of commission for a week or so, but Mr.Cotta insisted I spend a little money on MYSELF on something cool and not just be all practical and self-sacrificing.

A little frilly is good for the soul, no?

Now, if I could just figure out how to get Safari to work????? It won't fit in the screen correctly, and I can't get all the tabs to work right...very very confusing after all these years of PC use. I'm also thinking of downloading Firefox instead? Opinions? Help?

And seriously, any suggestions on a cool laptop bag? I want something that doesn't look like a backpack, or a briefcase, more like a tote?

Next task, moving all my old word files, email etc. to this new hard drive and fixing up the old computer for exclusive kid use. I figure once the hard drive has been formatted and we reinstall all the software, it MIGHT not actually be full of spyware anymore...supposedly Kaz is learning how to create websites in HTML, dreamweaver, and a few other things, this week at computer camp, so maybe they can teach him how to surf without picking up bad stuff?

I had to laugh actually as he confided in me "It's really hard Mom, you wouldn't be able to do it, but don't worry, maybe I'll help you set up a webpage next."

"Thanks sweetie" (secret hehe, I really do have to introduce him to all of mommy's friends in the computer someday!)