My last post may have been a little on the snippy side. Ooops…
In other news:
~My favorite mom-in-law and I spoke today and apparently my baby angel medallion thingy has a name. It’s Baby Jesus! Baby Jesus himself is looking out for me and I couldn’t be more relieved. I figured my first sacrifice for my kids was going to be Heaven (read IVF = against my religion) but now there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve been tormented by our decision to go ahead with the IVF, but given the circumstances of our medical difficulties we did what was right for us right now. Maybe the Catholic Church doesn’t hate me after all, although there is still some penance in order. I need to go to confession…
~Tonight I went to a Threshers game with Rhiannon, Ty, and Nadia. Matt showed up a little later. In the meantime Nadia was talking about the awesome 70% off shoe sale at Dillard’s. She went this afternoon with another friend of ours from high school and apparently she had a very interesting shoe salesman. When he pointed out some shoes with bows on them, she declined and explained that she didn’t want to look like a hooker (to the friend). The salesman replies, “Oh, you’re cougar’s not for sale?”
What the heck is that supposed to mean? I asked if he was gay, and she said he seemed straight. Call me crazy but I think only the most flamboyant of gay men can get away with saying that. WRONG!!
~I made Rhiannon a really yummy fudge cake for her birthday (belated- it was May 1) and it’s calling my name. It’s sitting on my counter and it literally is screaming at me. It’s so good I may have a bite before I bring it over tomorrow!
~This morning on the radio my horoscope said I need to “stop complaining.” I won’t type on here what I really think about that but I’ll give you a hint: It rhymes with Yuck Foo.
~Finally, my personal favorite: I’ve been googling things like “ivf tips” and “ivf success tips,” etc. I found the most interesting excerpt from Fertility Plus.
Um, what the hell??? Is this 1950? You’ve got to be kidding me…I’m sorry but I don’t think that the man’s only role here is his 5 minutes of fame in the spankatory. In real life a man and woman both do their part to make a baby “naturally.” I don’t have that luxury so I get to do all the work myself? I get the multiple shots a day and take like 7 pills a day, feel nauseous, bloat up like a pig, and gain 7 pounds in two days and I’m supposed to watch for his feelings so as not to give him anxiety.
Once again, my feelings rhyme with Yuck Foo. What do you think?