With all the deaths of celebrity figures lately, do you ever wonder who will impact your child's life? Who will the hot celebs be on the Disney Channel. Hannah Montana will be a distant memory, Raven Simone will be peddling career wear at Walmart, and Selena Gomez will have Waverlyed into Playboy by then.
Who will be the next child prodigy. Which one of today's tween drama queens be the Jenny Craig Spokesmodel and which one will be the Shawn Connery of my child's generation? I'm betting on one thing for sure. Shia LeBeouf is the next Tom Cruise.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Breaking Wind
Passing gas, dutch oven, toots, poots, farts etc. Not the best thing to have happen during the ramping up of Sexathon. I know, I know, I'm supposed to be this sweet southern Belle who does not discuss burping butts. My DH on the other hand has no preconceived social standards about such things.
So as you can imagine last nights assclapping experience was quite amusing and un-southernly sexy. When your husband rolls away from you slightly in the middle of foreplay and then you hear a percussion band warming up under the covers.....run. When the bed starts vibrating and you don't hear your husband breathing (because he's laughing so hard trying to be silent about it)....RUN SCREAMING. DO NOT WAIT...I repeat...DO NOT WAIT till the godawful smell of rotten eggs permeates the air. By then, its too late, and all your dignity will be gone as you scream like a banshee at him and run from the room without underwear and your cami top pulled down around your boobs gasping for oxygen. Ten minutes later when your bedroom doesn't smell as if a large rodent crawled between the mattresses and died, its a little hard to get back in the mood. Especially when your husband still has bursts of giggles (yes, I said GIGGLES) while pinching your nipples.
I realize that we didn't have much luck with the sexcapades last month because Clomid made me complete unsexy and tempermental. I realize that my darling husband is in essence a child trapped in a really tall body, but seriously, his farts can run you out of the room. Yes, I'm guilty as well. I'm not claiming my toots don't stink because frankly, I don't know what we ate this weekend but everything was foul! I, however, know where the bathroom is.
Ladies, hands off, he's all mine. I know it breaks your little hearts that I get this hunk of toxic waste processor all to myself, but try to keep your pitypat hearts in check. He's mine.
So as you can imagine last nights assclapping experience was quite amusing and un-southernly sexy. When your husband rolls away from you slightly in the middle of foreplay and then you hear a percussion band warming up under the covers.....run. When the bed starts vibrating and you don't hear your husband breathing (because he's laughing so hard trying to be silent about it)....RUN SCREAMING. DO NOT WAIT...I repeat...DO NOT WAIT till the godawful smell of rotten eggs permeates the air. By then, its too late, and all your dignity will be gone as you scream like a banshee at him and run from the room without underwear and your cami top pulled down around your boobs gasping for oxygen. Ten minutes later when your bedroom doesn't smell as if a large rodent crawled between the mattresses and died, its a little hard to get back in the mood. Especially when your husband still has bursts of giggles (yes, I said GIGGLES) while pinching your nipples.
I realize that we didn't have much luck with the sexcapades last month because Clomid made me complete unsexy and tempermental. I realize that my darling husband is in essence a child trapped in a really tall body, but seriously, his farts can run you out of the room. Yes, I'm guilty as well. I'm not claiming my toots don't stink because frankly, I don't know what we ate this weekend but everything was foul! I, however, know where the bathroom is.
Ladies, hands off, he's all mine. I know it breaks your little hearts that I get this hunk of toxic waste processor all to myself, but try to keep your pitypat hearts in check. He's mine.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Conversations from a lost soul
So I had the oddest conversation with my mother tonight. I know better then to call her, but sometimes, you just want to talk to your mother. We used to have a fabulous relationship until well circumstances being what they are. We have drifted. Yet, I still go through phases where I want my family no matter how beat down I feel afterward.
Today, was one of those days. I've been battered by my body this week and I wanted some comfort. What the hell was I thinking? Bless her heart, she tries, I guess. She doesn't understand though and how could I expect her to? I just never quite expect what I do get.
"Are you sure you want kids? Is it worth putting yourself through all this?" Well, gee Mom, let me think, I don't know. BECAUSE I CAN'T FUCKING HAVE KIDS, I DON'T FUCKING KNOW YET! Was it worth it to you? You seem to enjoy having your grandchildren around you at all times? Do you just not want any from me because I'm not T? YOU HAVE KIDS! You tell me.
"Well, I'm sorry you have to go through this, but atleast you didn't get it from my side of the family." WHAT? I don't even know how to respond to this. WHAT? I'm not BLAMING anyone. You didn't PICK the genes to give out at birth. This isn't ABOUT YOU.
"You should write everything your going through down, like a journal, so you can hold it over your kids heads, if you ever have them that is." A) I do, its called a blog and no you can't read it because I'm going to periodically verbally throat punch your ass on it. B) Who the fuck are you? Do I know you at all?
"You shouldn't be bitter. You should be happy for everyone who has children and are blessed, especially since you aren't." Who the fuck are you and what did you do with my mother? You know, the mother I had 10 years ago, who was supportive and loving and had it together. Who the hell is this scatterbrained woman who doesn't know how to comfort me or even talk to me? I want a shoulder to cry on and someone who can answer why this is happening to me.
My mother knew everything. She was the smartest person I knew, the matriarch of the family. Where did she go? Why am I crying on my keyboard when I should be curled up in my mother's lap, asking her to fix it? Why can't you fucking fix me? Why am I broken? Why don't you love me now that I'm broken?
Today, was one of those days. I've been battered by my body this week and I wanted some comfort. What the hell was I thinking? Bless her heart, she tries, I guess. She doesn't understand though and how could I expect her to? I just never quite expect what I do get.
"Are you sure you want kids? Is it worth putting yourself through all this?" Well, gee Mom, let me think, I don't know. BECAUSE I CAN'T FUCKING HAVE KIDS, I DON'T FUCKING KNOW YET! Was it worth it to you? You seem to enjoy having your grandchildren around you at all times? Do you just not want any from me because I'm not T? YOU HAVE KIDS! You tell me.
"Well, I'm sorry you have to go through this, but atleast you didn't get it from my side of the family." WHAT? I don't even know how to respond to this. WHAT? I'm not BLAMING anyone. You didn't PICK the genes to give out at birth. This isn't ABOUT YOU.
"You should write everything your going through down, like a journal, so you can hold it over your kids heads, if you ever have them that is." A) I do, its called a blog and no you can't read it because I'm going to periodically verbally throat punch your ass on it. B) Who the fuck are you? Do I know you at all?
"You shouldn't be bitter. You should be happy for everyone who has children and are blessed, especially since you aren't." Who the fuck are you and what did you do with my mother? You know, the mother I had 10 years ago, who was supportive and loving and had it together. Who the hell is this scatterbrained woman who doesn't know how to comfort me or even talk to me? I want a shoulder to cry on and someone who can answer why this is happening to me.
My mother knew everything. She was the smartest person I knew, the matriarch of the family. Where did she go? Why am I crying on my keyboard when I should be curled up in my mother's lap, asking her to fix it? Why can't you fucking fix me? Why am I broken? Why don't you love me now that I'm broken?
Too Soon?
Is it too soon to contribute dizzyness, nausea, and headaches to side effects of metformin since I've only taken the first one last night?
I'm barely on "this side" of feeling like utter crap. YUCK.
I'm barely on "this side" of feeling like utter crap. YUCK.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Science Fair 101
Break out your tri-fold foam core boards, it's time for a science Fair project.
Question: Can Buckin conceive a child?
Background Research: Diagnosis of PCOS with proven anovulatory cycles, 2.3 years of TTC without success, 2 cycles of Clomid without success but probable ovulation indicators.
Hypothesis: With the correct combination of drugs, diet and exercise along with the power of prayer and modern scientific tools, we are going to prove that conception can occur.
Experiment tools:
Clomid-check
Metformin-check
Thermometer- check
Pre-concieve Lubricant-check
TCOYF-check
FF Graphing capability-Check
OPK's-ordering
Pee-sticks-ordering
Method of experiment: Through a combination of taking a drug cocktail, a two on, one off sexual schedule (or every other day minimum), monitoring of OPK's and BBT's as well as CM while using PCL and FF, we will give optimum possibility for conception which will be proven or disproven not only by FF from BBT but as well as HPT's.
While all this sounds extremely scientific, evidence shows that our chances are merely hopeful at best, but in the spirit of science: let the sex marathon begin. Official start: t-minus 4 days (or when AF goes the eff away).
Question: Can Buckin conceive a child?
Background Research: Diagnosis of PCOS with proven anovulatory cycles, 2.3 years of TTC without success, 2 cycles of Clomid without success but probable ovulation indicators.
Hypothesis: With the correct combination of drugs, diet and exercise along with the power of prayer and modern scientific tools, we are going to prove that conception can occur.
Experiment tools:
Clomid-check
Metformin-check
Thermometer- check
Pre-concieve Lubricant-check
TCOYF-check
FF Graphing capability-Check
OPK's-ordering
Pee-sticks-ordering
Method of experiment: Through a combination of taking a drug cocktail, a two on, one off sexual schedule (or every other day minimum), monitoring of OPK's and BBT's as well as CM while using PCL and FF, we will give optimum possibility for conception which will be proven or disproven not only by FF from BBT but as well as HPT's.
While all this sounds extremely scientific, evidence shows that our chances are merely hopeful at best, but in the spirit of science: let the sex marathon begin. Official start: t-minus 4 days (or when AF goes the eff away).
BOTB Post of the Week
Brought to you by: MEAGKEB
"So I am getting married exactly a month from today and am 2 weeks late. I took 2 pregnancy tests and they came back positive. The doctor won't see me until I am 8 weeks, though! This is driving me crazy!!!" The key to this post is the title "POSSIBLY PREGNANT...AAGGH"
You are most DEFINATELY pregnant you twit but you possibly deserve my foot up your ass for this pathetic attempt at attention amongst random strangers. WTF. The sheer stupidity of this drivel is what earned it the spot this week.
"So I am getting married exactly a month from today and am 2 weeks late. I took 2 pregnancy tests and they came back positive. The doctor won't see me until I am 8 weeks, though! This is driving me crazy!!!" The key to this post is the title "POSSIBLY PREGNANT...AAGGH"
You are most DEFINATELY pregnant you twit but you possibly deserve my foot up your ass for this pathetic attempt at attention amongst random strangers. WTF. The sheer stupidity of this drivel is what earned it the spot this week.
Clomid Plus Metformin
I am home again today. I toyed with going to work but I just couldn't quite make myself. The worst of it today is having no voice and a scratchy throat. I'm assuming all the puking yesterday really tore up my throat. I could hardly eat yesterday evening and today I can only croak instead of talk. I'm still passing clots but they are smaller and the pain is just cramps: constant aches but nothing more than discomfort. I can handle that. I can handle cleaning myself up every 30 minutes to an hour due to Niagara in my drawers, but I didn't think I could handle sitting at a desk all day being uncomfortable (and that's if I could get any of my pants buttoned around this distended bloat). Thank god for leopard print cotton genie lounge pants that may be out of style and too big but by golly are awesomely comfortable during times like this. (Only over my dead body will you ever see a picture of me in them they are THAT bad).
So today, I'm going to alternate between cleaning my house and laying on a heating pad watching TV. It's 9am and I've already conquered the laundry monster that was in my bedroom.
Thankfully the Dr.'s office called a little before 9am to tell me that they have called in prescriptions for me to Walgreens. They approved the Clomid AND Metformin. I told DH if I was going to do it, then I was going to do it all the way so here we go. I am honestly dreading this but a tiny bit excited that hopefully I will increase my chances. I'm going to hunt down some Pre-conceive as well to improve all odds as much as possible.
I've been told that the clotting issues I have may go away once I have a child. That's just one more plus (as if we really NEED any more positives to having a baby) to push myself to get KTFU. You know, besides the typical biological reasons for wanting one. So despite my previous whining about not doing more drugs, I'm on board for this month atleast.
Thank you girls for your words of comfort and well wishes both on the blog and via text yesterday. It's nice to know that people are thinking about me when I'm feeling that low. Big e-hugs!
So today, I'm going to alternate between cleaning my house and laying on a heating pad watching TV. It's 9am and I've already conquered the laundry monster that was in my bedroom.
Thankfully the Dr.'s office called a little before 9am to tell me that they have called in prescriptions for me to Walgreens. They approved the Clomid AND Metformin. I told DH if I was going to do it, then I was going to do it all the way so here we go. I am honestly dreading this but a tiny bit excited that hopefully I will increase my chances. I'm going to hunt down some Pre-conceive as well to improve all odds as much as possible.
I've been told that the clotting issues I have may go away once I have a child. That's just one more plus (as if we really NEED any more positives to having a baby) to push myself to get KTFU. You know, besides the typical biological reasons for wanting one. So despite my previous whining about not doing more drugs, I'm on board for this month atleast.
Thank you girls for your words of comfort and well wishes both on the blog and via text yesterday. It's nice to know that people are thinking about me when I'm feeling that low. Big e-hugs!
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