Tuesday, March 26, 2013

The Cubicle Chronicles: Chapter Seven

Read previous chapters of The Cubicle Chronicles here, here, here, here, here, and here. It's been a long time since I last posted one of these and I thought the last one might be the final chapter. Alas, for better or worse, I was wrong.  So, once again, I give you The Cubicle Chronicles, this time "The Infertile's Head About Explodes" Edition...

Lady 1: I mean, I think I want to be a mom, but, like wait a while. I mean I don't like want to be the old mom. So, I can't have them any later than like 32. But then, you know, you're like high risk and stuff. And who wants to be on bedrest for like 9 months. And you're too old to chase after the kids and everything. Who wants to be the gray haired mom? Lady 2: Yeah, or the one with wrinkles? Lady 1: I know! And I don't want my kids to be in daycare. Because I don't want them to get sick or anything. Like, if you're working and they get sick, you have to take off. And that's just really inconvenient. Also I think if you're like a housewife, like your house has to be spotlessly clean all the time. Because, like, what else do you have to do all day?! I mean, keeping the house clean and your husband and kids happy is your job. It's not like it's hard when you've got all that time. You know, because you're not like actually working or anything. (So, let me give you a little background on these "ladies". They're both pharmacy students/residents. These are educated, young women. And this crap is what they're spouting. I mean I get that they're young and clueless. But damn. They do not make me feel good about our (collective) future. Also, I'm pretty sure I wasn't able to accurately capture all the times the word "like" was used. Probably because I was constantly telling myself to keep my freaking mouth shut.)

Nurse: I need you to come talk to this patient. Me: What's going on? Nurse: Well, he needs help getting home. Me: Okay, do you know where he lives. Nurse: He lives in [names a state that is 1200+ miles from here]. Probably he needs a plane ticket. Me: Hahahahahaha. Nurse: [silence] Me: Oh, you're serious? Nurse: Yes. He needs to get home. He has a half million dollar house there. Me: Yeah. No. Nurse: Can't you just voucher him a plane ticket? Me: Uh, no. But I can get him a bus pass to the homeless shelter. Or, if he has a half million dollar house, I bet he can afford his own bus pass. Nurse: [silence] Me: Why did he come in today? Nurse: Psych - He thinks he's LL Cool J. Me: [silence] Nurse: He probably doesn't have a half million dollar house, does he? Me: Uh, not so much. Nurse: A bus pass should work. Me: Great. (As a public service announcement, the ER will not be handing out plane tickets from this day forward. Also, the man who tells you he's LL Cool J and came in drunk and without pants, well, lets just go ahead and assume he doesn't have a half million dollar house. I've been know to be wrong on occasion. But I'm feeling like this one is a pretty strong bet.)

Lady 1: So, did you hear my news? Lady 2: No, I've been off because I've been sick, and my grandpa died, and then my sister-in-law was in this awful car accident, and-- L1: Yeah, yeah, we're talking about me. L2: Oh. L1: So, I'm pregnant! L2: (somehow manages to do appropriate amount of happy squealing noises) So, when are you due? L1: Yeah, I waited forever to tell anyone because, you know, this is my first pregnancy and I wanted to make sure it was actually there and going to stick around and stuff before I told everyone. Because, you know, it's my first baby and we tried, like, forever. I mean, seriously, forever, like 4 months. I'm due (gives a date). L2: So you're how many weeks? L1: 6 and a half weeks. And I'm at that point where my regular clothes don't fit anymore so I had to buy maternity clothes. Ugh, this thing is going to make me so fat and ugly. (So, so many things to say here. First, 6.5mon would probably be a long time to wait. 6.5wks, well, not so much. Actually, seems like it often takes her longer than that to realize there's work to be done, so I gotta say I'm surprised she noticed she's pregnant this early.  Second, 4 months is "forever"- really? She seems to have a different sense of time than I do. Or anyone else I know, for that matter. Third, having never been pregnant myself - and yes, thank you so much for unknowingly throwing that back up in my face - I don't know for sure. BUT, I'm willing to guess that if you're getting "fat" at this point, it's not the baby's fault. Pretty sure it's the 3 doughnuts I saw you eating for breakfast, followed by the 4 cupcakes for "snack" - which was about 17min after "breakfast". Lastly, poor, poor doughnut and cupcake-filled baby.)

Today's Lesson: Too often in life, the crazy just finds you. You can choose to ignore it. Which is probably the most personally healthy option. Or you can blog about it, pissing yourself off again, but allowing others to hopefully get a laugh in at the same time. You're welcome, friends.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

2 Letters

Letter 1 (which may, or may not, have been coerced)
Dear Hubby,
Thank you for taking care of me while I have been sick. Thank you for fetching water - with ice!! - for me. Thank you for buying soup you think is gross just because I had it the last time I was this sick (15ish yrs ago) it made me feel better. Thank you for single-handedly parenting, one child who is getting over being sick which is manifesting with tons of attitude, and the other who is as snotty as me, and who also hasn't been sleeping. Really, I haven't heard him. Probably because of the gallons of snot in my own head. Thank you for buying me cherry 7-up because (in my head at least) it will make me feel better even though you think it's nasty. Thank you for not cringing too obviously when you had to step over all my snotty tissues because I hadn't yet been able to get out of bed to throw them away. Thank you for not laughing at my super crazy, sticking up all over the place, hadn't been washed in 3 days hair. Thank you for not asking me when the last time I'd brushed my teeth was. No, wait, that might have been a good thing to do because I don't remember. Thank you for putting gas in my car even though I thought I was going crazy and had done it myself while doped up on cold medicine and/or high fever. Thank you for covering me in warm blankets when I couldn't stop shivering. And getting rid of said blankets a few minutes later when they were making me sweat. Thank you for letting me be in control of the remote, even though you knew it was time-limited since I was bound to pass our before 8pm. Thank you for honoring that whole "in sickness and in health" mumbo jumbo I think we spouted at some point.
Your (snotty, coughing, pitiful, feverish, clammy, whiny, germy, stinky, so damn sick) Loving Wife

Letter 2
Dear Universe-
Clearly you did not receive my previous message. You know, when I demanded, "there will be no more sick in this house". Either that or you didn't appreciate the sarcastic tone I used. Please note, I am sarcastic with everyone. Truly, it's not you, it's me. What I meant to say was "pretty, pretty please, make all the sick go away and not come back. Please? Pretty, pretty please?". That's how it was supposed to be worded at least. I mean, that's how it sounded in my head.
Becky (aka the woman who will blow snot on you if you don't make the sick go away. Sarcasm there)

Today's Lesson: Clearly there has not yet been enough sick at my house this winter. Please excuse me while I go blow my nose, take some cold medicine, and lay down to die. Because simply writing this blog post has exhausted the hell out of me.

Friday, March 15, 2013

My Rose Bush

For years there was nothing I wanted more than to be a momma. Mothers' Day is often a hard day for many people for a variety of reasons. For me, for a long time, it was yet another reminder that I wasn't yet the one thing I had known all my life I wanted to be. 

So, that first year after the kid was born, Mothers' Day was huge - emotionally speaking - for me. The kid was about 3mon old and I was just coming out of the fog of post-adoption depression. I felt like we were finally settling in to life as a family of 3 (plus dog). And I needed to do something to mark the occasion. Something beyond going out to eat and opening a card. Something beyond going to get a massage (which hubby arranged and I did love). I needed it to be something more permanent.

So I went with my momma and bought a rose bush.

We always had them growing up. (My mom still has them and man, they're beautiful!) Every so often, my mom would cut a couple in the mornings for me to take to my teachers in school (elementary school, of course). I loved taking them in. I loved having them in the backyard. There's just something about rose bushes that, for me, signifies motherhood.

I can't quite put it in to words, how important having my own rose bush was. They remind me of my mother, who is of course my primary reference point of being a mom. So, in buying my own, and planting it, it was like further establishing my own roots as a mom in my own right. Proving to myself that I was a mother. Because after all that IF, sometimes I needed as much tangible proof as I could get.

When we moved several years later, I made hubby dig that thing up and move it with us, then replant it in our new backyard. The thought of leaving it there felt like abandoning part of me. It took me a long time to find the perfect spot in the backyard.

And last year, the kid's first in school, there was great pleasure - and healing - in snipping a couple of my own beautiful roses, wrapping them in wet paper towel and sending them with him to give to his teacher. That simple act, for me, it says motherhood.

That rose bush, that little plant, well, it reminds me of so much. Every spring as the leaves sprout, and then the blooms turn red, I watch and smile. It's grown so much, is so much taller and fuller than it was when I first bought it almost 7 years ago. I noticed today that this winter it's finally grown taller than me.

Just like that rosebush, I've grown in the last 7 years. Not taller certainly. And fuller definitely. But so is my life. So much fuller. I look forward to seeing it bloom this year. And seeing the growth it, and I, will experience.

Today's Lesson: Motherhood, just like a rose, is not defined by its name but rather by its beauty. And its thorns. But that's a post for another day.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Problems Only of the Fertiles

I joined a group of, well, shall we say hippie-ish parents on FB. For the most part, I find much of the content interesting and helpful. I don't know that I've ever seen any kind of posting about infertility there. In fact, many of the families seem to have several (4+ children). That certainly leads me to believe infertility isn't a huge issue for most the families. But I don't hold it against them.

However, a recent post just about made my head explode.

It read as follows (with names changed by me):

"Amy and Bob were both born on the same day, and their birthday is coming up soon. While Amy's due date WAS Bob's birthday, we never expected her to actually be born on that day. So, now DH and I have a dilemma. Do we try to conceive so our third is born on that day, too? Or do we just let it up to the universe to decide? Our reasoning for wanting to have them all born on the same day is so the third doesn't feel left out when his/her siblings are celebrating, and vice versa. Plus, it would be really cool. But, of course, we would never consent to an induction or cesarean to guarantee they all shared a birthday."

There are all kinds of responses to this post. Fortunately most of them say something along the lines of "just let it happen". But even that makes me either want to yell or laugh bitterly. I mean, really?! I've gone back to that post several times the last couple of days, trying to decide if I should respond. Well, that's not true. I know I shouldn't. So, I suppose it's more about reminding myself of that.

Because what I want to say is something along the lines of, "Just be grateful you can get pregnant. Just be grateful you have carried babies to term. Just be grateful that your children are healthy. And then just shut the hell up. Have sex whenever you want. Get pregnant, or don't. But, for the love of Pete, why don't you try just hoping that the Universe doesn't laugh at you and tell you to go screw yourselves. Because that's how some of us feel. Also, how grown up of you to not consent for an induction to guarantee they have the same birthday."


The problems of the fertiles. I wish they made me laugh. Instead they make me grind my teeth.

Today's Lesson: Sometimes we should all keep our words to ourselves. Because the words don't do anyone any good, even if they would make us feel better for a moment. The wisdom is in recognizing that before the words leave our mouths. Or fingers, as the case may be.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Leprechaun Day

The kid (making a card for our friends' new baby): I think I'll put a leprechaun on it.
Me: Uh, okay. What made you decide to put that on it?
Kid: You know, because it's almost Leprechaun day.
Me: You mean St Patrick's Day?
Kid: Who?
Me: St Patrick. That's the day. Not Leprechaun.
Kid: Sure it is.
Me: Do you know who St Patrick was?
Kid: Sure. He was obviously the King of the Leprechauns.
Me: Not exactly...
Kid: Oh, he just is the keeper of the Leprechauns? Like he knows where they're hiding? And where to get all their awesome gold???!!!!!
Me: Not so much. He was a real person a long time ago. The legend is that he expelled all the snakes from Ireland.
Kid: No, that's not it. Snakes are not nearly as cool as Leprechauns. I'm pretty sure it's the Leprechaun thing. They wouldn't make a whole day about some snake thing.
Me: Um. Okay. Ask your teacher.
Kid: No thanks. I don't want her to spoil my vision.
Me: Alrighty then.

Today's Lesson: Leprechauns are more interesting that St Patrick. Or the kid's parents need to do a better job of teaching him history. One of those two.

Monday, March 4, 2013


Random searches that have led you to me. Somehow.

Black toddler shaving (I think this one was thanks to this post. It still makes me giggle.)

Turn off the water while using me (But I have no explanation for this one.)

Keep calm and take anal (And certainly not for this one.)

Mysecretstash  (Yes, all one word. And I'm certain it comes from this post. But I'm also ridiculously curious about the secret stash of the person who searched it! If you're still here, tell me please! Seriously, I reeeeeeeealllllllly want to know!!!)

Best time for ladies to leave shoes in the bathtub (Do tell. When is it the best time for ladies to leave their shoes in the bathtub? Or is it their own shoes? Maybe it's someone else's shoes? So many questions. No answers...)

Inducing lactation for husband (Not only does this one make me feel a bit icky, well, it makes me feel really icky.)

Naked backyard comics (Sooooo, what???! Also, this one has popped up more than once. Yes, yes it has.)

Shaving cream on food (Okay, so, like, are we talking like "I got shaving cream on my food and now I need to know if it's safe to eat?" Or are we talking, "I want to eat shaving cream, so how do I add that to my food?" I mean, really, I have no idea what it's supposed to mean...)

Anal Pumper (I mean, wtf people?!!! First, why the hell is someone searching that??!!! Second, and most importantly for me, WHY DID THAT BRING YOU TO MY BLOG????!!!!!! And that's all I can even think of to say about that. Besides, seriously, wtf. W.T.F.)

Happy Monday, y'all.

Today's Lesson: It would seem that I use the word "anal" much too frequently in this blog.