Reality TV

I am a self confessed reality show addict. I don't watch all of them, but I have probably perused most of them at least once. Why do I like them? Because they are entertaining. Not because they are real. Come on, they are productions. Is anyone really suprised when some of these subjects go on to actual acting careers? Tune in to certain shows, and the acting doesn't come close to the acting that is done on reality tv. The ones that I like are the contests, like Survivor, Amazing Race, Big Brother, Top Chef, etc. I always root for the underdog, which is my usual m.o. The only one I would love to do is the Amazing Race, but I am not nearly in shape enough at this point in time. If I were to be on that show, I would do anything I could to win the race. Lie, backstab, whatever. I am astounded when people get onto these shows, and within days everyone loves each other. Survivor is awesome. I could never do it, as I don't even like to get my hands dirty. The mind game part of it though, I would be great at. I have no doubt I could outwit alot of people. Make friends? Probably not. On all these shows, inevitably there is always someone that wants to play the game honestly. They make alliances, and promises. To people they just met. I'm sorry, but for a million dollars, I would be looking out for number one. End of story. Of course there are lots of people that hate reality tv. There are many people that won't watch it. It's crap they say. What do you want to bet that these same people watch the "news" religiously.

The first reality tv? The news. I rarely watch the news. Occasionly I get sucked in by a promo of some important story which always ends up being at the end of the newscast, in which case I miss it. I don't watch the whole thing. Ever. My first problem is, I have a low tolerance for newscasters that cannnot speak. I have yet to find a local anchor person that doesn't constantly flub their lines. Yes, I said it, their lines. Could I get in front of a camera and say this crap without messing up? No. But if this is your chosen career, learn to speak. Secondly, the same story does not need to be shown over and over again. Thirdly, stop sensationalizing everything. Everytime something happens in the world, be it a tsunami, some sort of outbreak, tornados, etc., our local news has to talk about the possibilities of these things happening here. Really. I can't speak much on the national or world news, as I never watch. I can't take the negativity. The doom and gloom has to stop. We know bad things can happen. But, so can good things. We know the economy is bad, but until we are all living in tent cities, shut the eff up. Some people actually buy into all this crap. When I mention that I need to start looking for a job soon, I am told there are no jobs. There are jobs. It could be a long hard process. I may have to take a job at a lower pay rate, that is not my ideal job. But, everything is not completely in the toilet. We need some upbeat, positive news, like pronto. Of course, we need to know that there is an outbreak of swine flu. Do we need to be told the worse case scenerio over and over? Tell us about it, tell us the precautions to take, and move on. Stop all the what ifs. Why does the news have to be a specific block of time? Say there is really only 15 minutes worth of news one night, why not leave it at that and use the rest of the air time for a feel good story. Or a reality show. I get what little news I need from the internet, but mostly from my people around me that actually waste their time watching this crap. I am too busy with my family. When I get to sit down and watch tv, I want to be entertained. I don't want to sit and watch someone being paid six figures to flub the word swine.

Seriously

People are just too serious this days. I had an epiphany back when I was 18. I was at a nice restaurant with my friend and her family for her 18th birthday, and a piece of steak fell off my fork and smack dab into my purse. Shit. These things always seemed to happen to me. As I recall, I took my napkin and picked it out. The thing was, all the sudden it hit me. This was funny. After that, anytime in my life when strange or weird things happen to me, I laugh. They happen ALOT. Of course, many people will tell you that I take things seriously. First, I have a serious face. Second, I don't always express myself well. Third, I do take certain things seriously, like work. Though, I have really mellowed out, especially since I became a mom. The thing is, I have a certain level of anxiety, so, say I was running late for something important, I would get worked up. Thus, I try never to run late. Never for work, or appoinments. Casual meetings I don't get worked up about. Anyway, I really think we all need to stop taking life so seriously.

I will admit, I started wasting time reading the comments on certain internet sites. Like comments to news stories. They are truly ridiculous. Most of the comments are very ignorant, bashing people based on looks, race, sexuality, etc. Today there was an article about a woman that was fired because she called in sick and then was on Facebook. What the F? Now, anyone who has ever worked with me or for me, will tell you I don't call in sick, and get very annoyed with people that do. I would be at work sick as a dog and have someone call and say they just can't make it because they have their period, they don't feel like it, their dog ate their homework, etc. On more than one occasion I would go to the local fair and see someone I knew was scheduled(I did the schedule) and return to work the next day to find they called out sick. Thus, I rarely believed anyone, unless they really sounded sick. So this woman was laying in bed, accsessing facebook from her iphone, and got caught. Then these idiots respond that she "stole" sick time. I'm sorry, some people have to be doing something all the time. I am usually doing several things at once. Part of the reason I never called in sick was I can't just lay around. It is too depressing. I was on bedrest at the beginning of my pregnancy, and had it continued any longer, I would have gotten a laptop. Instead I had a portable dvd player, watched tv, read and racked up incredible cell phone bills. Who gives a shit if she was on facebook? This was in another country, in Europe I think. I just don't see how this could get her fired. Plus, these stupid comments from idiots that aren't anywhere working themselves, unless they are at work using the internet. Seriously.

Parenting is another subject that is taken so seriously. I really thought I would be an uptight mom, worried about every little thing. I am an A class worrier, or I used to be. As it turns out, I am way more laid back than I thought. So, Sophie eats dog food sometimes. We play ball in the house. She drops her binky and sometimes, with no other alternative, I lick it clean. I formula fed, BY Coice!!! Plus, I do really need to clean up my language, but I don't think Sophie will be scarred for life if she hears a dirty word.

The economy is in the toilet. Or so we are told, five effing times a frickin day. Shut up already! So everyone won't be able to have 6000 square foot homes and Juicy to cover their asses. Maybe people will start to appreciate the simple things. I really hope so. If so many people didn't take everything so seriously, we wouldn't be in this effed up mess in the first place. There is a saying, if we want things to be different, we need to do things differently. Duh. Gee, how can me stimulate this economy? Lets start by legalizing marijuana. Smart business people could set up shop. Legalize prostitution while you are at it. It is legal to drink and smoke cigarettes, but we actually spend money we don't have on prostitution stings and arresting people for smoking mojo??? Make legitimate businesses. Hell, repeat customers could have a savings card. Like, after the ninth blow job, the tenth is free. Not only would these business generate some money, but maybe once more people are relaxing and getting laid, everyone wouldn't be so flippin serious.

What a Day...

So, today started when I could hear my husband looking for something (a very common occurance). "Where's the flashlight?" Why? There is a leak under the kitchen sink. No effing way! I am still dealing with the whole leaky dishwasher flooded the floor in the kitchen and dining room fiasco. We have a brand new kitchen floor, new carpet padding, a repaired dishwasher(not even three years old), and supposedly dried out subfloor under the cabinets. What we don't have is a resolution to the damaged counter where the dishwasher was pulled out to replace the floor. Shockingly, it is hard to match 24 year old gold lanimate. So, after not finding anything in the samples I was given, I am supposed to find the time to go to the showroom and look for more. Ater it was proven that the floor company caused this damage(involving a tell all photo I snapped the day before the new floor was to be installed) I was told they would replace the strip they damaged. So, not only will that not match the top counter, but the two sides that meet it, and the whole rest of the stripping won't match. I did point out how ridiculous this is, but I think we are at a standstill. Anyway, so my hubby "thinks" he found the problem, and will check it when he gets home. Needless to say, as soon as Sophie went down for a nap, I checked it out. Soaked. Turned on the water, and watched it drip. Four insurance people later, I'm told to call the mismatch strip replacing floor guy, who of course wondered why on earth they would tell me to call him. Umm, because your guys were incompetent and probably damaged something under the sink??? I will call a plumber. Plumber guy came right out, said it wasn't related, fixed it, and charged me $300.00. I will be calling insurance tomorrow. I just can't believe that the shut off valve went cupooey right after multiple people were in and out turning the water off and on. In the meantime, the cupboard doors are open and being fanned in hopes of no more damage to the subfloor and my new kitchen floor. Sophie, being her Mommys' daughter, kept closing the doors, because noone wants to look at opened cabinet doors. Except Chet.

In the meantime, earlier in the day some guy in a uniform dragged a yellow hose across the back of our property and sprayed the blackberry bushes behind us. We live on a greenbelt, which I am told is owned by the fire dept. Considering where this forest borders, I don't think they will be trying to build a firehouse anytime soon. Up until three years ago, our property and the property of our three neighbors was well protected by all this growh. Then we get a new neighbor who wants a new fence and doesn't want things growing over it, so in comes a backhoe making a road behind our houses. Not big enough for a vehicle, but a wide path for anyone that wants to venture from the main road and walk right into our backyards. The next summer, most of the path had been covered, and here came the spray. Chet was ticked, because he likes the blackberries. I love the view, especially in the summer when everything is in bloom. So, sprayer guy spent two minutes behind our house, causing Simon to bark for at least two hours. Not to mention, it is a good thing I was decent, and not outside in my nightgown throwing poopy into the woods when our unexpected guest arrived. When you have total privacy, you take things for granted.

So, it is Monday, and I had alot of cleaning and laundry to do. I just could not get motivated. I did get some things done during Sophies nap. Plumber guy finally left after 6pm, so I started making dinner. Sophie was very cranky. I gave her some cheese, but when dinner was ready, she wouldn't eat any chicken and rice. She drank 2 sippies of milk and wanted more. And, she wanted to be held. I did get her to eat a couple of pieces of melon. Then I realize she is very warm. Trying to take her temp was sooo fun!!! Luckily, we have two thermometers, so she played with one while I took her temp. Fever of almost 102. Sophie has never had a fever. I was going to give her a lukewarm bath, but she was very tired, so I gave her Tylenol and put her down. Then I went back to laundry and vacumming. In my defense, I am dusting with one hand while blogging. But I am so tired. And worried about Sophie. And my new floor. And the money I am out. Mostly Sophie. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day and my Soso will feel better. Oh, and plumber guy caught me by suprise with his quick response, so I had to rally the dogs. Toby was hard to catch, and the guy wouldn't even come in until I wrangled him. Toby is very loving and doesn't bark. Simon wouldn't shut up, and the guy was uber annoyed. Hey, at least he didn't come around the back early in the morning. That would have been way more scary..

What the hay is wrong with baby talk???

Let me start by saying, while I can be quite articulate when the situation warrants, I have always had an affinity for nicknames, accents, funny voices, abbreviations, etc. Not so much baby talk per say, but you get my drift. I have many nicknames for my dogs. I rarely call Simon, my oldest pug, Simon. It's usually pooky, short for pooky bear, which derived from tweety bird. Toby is usually Tobiola, or often, "Toby is an ola", and other such goofiness. So, after baby talking to my pugs for years, obviously I'm not going to go all proper with my Soso, So pie, Sophiola, Sophie Krayeski is a Krayeski named Sophie, my sweetest pea, etc. Sophie doesn't wear diapers, but panties. I actually got that from my mom, who called them that the first day we came home from the hospital. It stuck. Now, "the girlies" derived from "girly parts', which I started from day one. I never had a name for my girly parts, since I make a habit not to talk about them, or to them. The thing is, I have always talked to Sophie. Hello, I talk to my dogs all the time. Simon was the first to know every time I got a positive pregnancy test, or a negative for that matter. What? He always follows me to the bathroom. So, I always explain, we have to change your panties, we have to wipe the girlies, you have stinky pooey, and so on. As she has gotten older and learning to talk, I do use more proper names. Like, even though she calls milk "gilk", I say milk, so she will learn correctly. But, poopy is poopy, girlies are girlies, pooky is pooky.

Now, it wasn't until I brought my lovely home and eventually started reading the mommy board on my favorite site that I "learned" baby talk is no longer cool. As a matter of fact, lots of these ladies "hate" baby talk and have a fit when others around them talk this nonsense to their babies. Proper words only!! Some won't even use poopy, it's a bm, or bowel movement. Or, a vulva and vagina! Really! Unless you make a living as an OB/Gyn, or a professor teaching potential girly part doctors, WHY do you have to use these words? If you want to use them, fine. To each their own. But, I reserve the right to make up any and all phrases, songs and words that I want. If people want to feel all superior, fine. However, after working with the public and thousands of associates over the years, a large percentage couldn't even tell you what a noun or verb are. After awhile, I found myself saying things like, "she don't do that". Ugh!!! Sophiola is an ola named Sophie will speak proper english, but I hope when she one day has a child, she will still have enough sense to call a poopy a poopy.

My Family

Tonight we went to a family event at our church. Chet, Sophie, and I. Right in the middle of it, I realized, wow, I am here, at a family event, with my own little family. For so long, it was Chet, I and the dogs. Still a family, but not a complete family, not for me. I always wanted children. We did go to a few "family" events prior to Sophie. Years ago, we were very excited to take our dogs to pug parties. Well, that didn't really work out, since Simon doesn't play well wih others, and Toby wasn't really into them either. So now, we have our little family, including our two crazy dogs, whom Sophie adores. I am just so happy, so lucky, and so blessed. I would love to add to our family, but I am not sure that is in the cards, and that is okay. Afterall, We are the Krayeskis, the Mighty, Mighty Krayeskis. Yes, I sing this goofy song all the time. The scary thing is, I used to sing this to the dogs long before Sophie came along.:)

America's Next Top Model

Why I am I so addicted to this show?? Seriously, the only season that I haven't seen every episode of is Season 1, and since reruns are on now every weekend, I have seen most of those. Okay, these girls are like half a foot taller than me, and weigh less than my purse. I'm not joking, try and lift it sometime. Maybe it's because Tyra is such a train wreck. Maybe it's "Miss" Jay, or Mr. Jay, or all the cattyiness. I just cannot get enough. Perhaps I get an evil pleasure from watching a size 2 being told she is eating to many cookies, and needs to slim down to make it in the modeling world. For what ever reason, I find it very entertaining. You would think I would get sad and depressed watching a bunch of skinny girls parade around, whining that they are too fat. I don't. I just laugh at their hijinks and root for the underdog. Even if she weighs less than my shoes.

More Whine than Wine

Okay, I have to confess, I don't get the whole wine thing. Maybe it's because I have never had good wine. I think the only wine I have ever had was the occasional sip at a holiday dinner when I was growing up, and at communion, sometimes. I really am not much of a drinker at all. My cardinal rule is, I only eat or drink things that I know taste good, or look or smell like they may taste good. I do eat veggies that I may not love, because they are good for me. Also, I prefer to hang on to the few facilties that I have. Thus, I will have the occasional Raspberry Margarita(yum), when I am not driving, and I have some Raspberry Smirnhoffs in my pantry that I will have with Diet Coke in the rare event I am in the mood for a drink. The mere smell of wine goes straight to my head. All around me it seems, everyone loves wine. And drinks it. And then drives. I won't go there on that subjuect yet. Suffice it to say, having lost my sister in a car accident were drinking wasn't even involved, I don't understand how people can drink at all and then drive. There are so many terrible, sober drivers out there, and then seemingly smart people add alcohol to the mix. Unbelievable. Back to the subject at hand. I just am not a whine drinker. Add that to list of all the things I do not have in common with the majority of my peers, and it just adds to my social ackwardness. So, I am a 42 year old mom to a toddler that doesn't drink whine, or coffee, and is anxious alot of the time. Woo hoo! Good thing I'm funny. Of course, I am usually too shy to be funny in a crowd. If only I could find something that would loosen me up. Maybe I should cook me up some raspberry vodka chocolate..

My Mommy tagline

I have been frequenting the same message board for years. After having my daughter, I got to move to the "mommy board". I mostly lurk there, and pipe in occaionally. Most of the time I have to sit staring at my screen, biting my tongue, or rather, willing my fingers not to type. You see, many women on there have a parenting philosophy they will defend to the depths. Unfortunately, defending often means attacking the opposite view. Neither of which I have much interest in. My parenting philosophy for the most part, is do what works. On top of all this, in the tagline of their signatures, they sometimes will have their parenting style in a nutshell. For example, "breastfeeding, babywearing, cloth diapering, cosleeping stay at home mom to a well adjusted child". I have thus far warded off the great temptation to make my own tagline. I will make one for your enjoyment, though.
"Formula feeding, disposable diapering, stroller pushing, sweets giving, occasionally swearing, lenient mommy to one beautiful, binky addicted, dvd watching, pugaholic in training, crib sleeping princess".

Embracing my inner stay at home momminess

I am NOT a stay at home mom. I am a working mom, on sabbatical. First of all, that is just my lot in life, I have to work. My husband and I are partners, and have been successful at it for over the 12 years we have been married. Not business partners, but life/marriage/parental partners. We both work, we both do household chores, we both take care of our dogs, and now, we both parent our daughter. Of course, things are not all divided up 50/50. He does some, like about 100% of the grocery shopping, I do some, like taking care of all the bills, vacuuming, etc. Up until I left my job, because I was salaried, I usually worked more hours than he did, so he actually did more than his share of the cooking and the dishes. Since I have been home with Sophie, I do alot more of my share around the house. I needed a career change, I needed time with Sophie, so I left my job with the idea of taking up to a year off. In all honesty, I was hoping that things would change, and maybe I would be able to stay home. But, I also was convinced that I not only needed to work financally, but for my own sanity. If I didn't have to get up for work in the morning, what would I get up for? Joke on me, I still get up for work in the morning! The best job I have ever had! It has taken awhile to get my footing. I like to go do things, but I am very tight with money, even when I have it. The exciting thing is I have learned to budget much better, and I thought I was doing a good job before. Spending this time with Sophie has been invaluable, for both of us. Of course, I am not the best housewife. I just don't spend the time cleaning that I should. I do like my house clean, so it is always straightened and neat looking, but there are some scary things lurking in the closets and drawers. As I tell my hubby, if I knew this was going to be permanent, I would do a better job. Right now, I am sucking up every minute with Sophie that I can. And I feel like I would be (and momentarily am) a great stay at home mom. Who knew?!

Easterversary

Yesterday was Easter, and our 12th wedding anniversary. It's funny, because we planned our wedding for a year and a half, and when we went to book the church, the date we picked, April 19th, there was something going on, so we picked the week before. It never occured to me that it would sometimes fall on Easter, until the next year. At some point I looked at a calendar and realized our first anniversary was on Easter. Pretty cool, I thought. Then Easterversary came, and while I did receive an Easter suprise of some sort, no anniversary gift. I thought I had been cheated. Little did I realize that was just a hint of holidays to come. That year, we went to Vancouver, stayed in a beautiful hotel, and had a wonderful time. Over the years, we have had some unfortunate anniversaries, like the year I miscarried on that day, the next year when I had surgery that day, and in 2007, when I got to have my first appointment with the diabetic nurse who told us all the terrible risks of gestational diabetes. Last year, our anniversary was on a Saturday, and Chet and I took Sophie to downtown Seattle and the Pike Place Market for the first time. It was almost 80 degrees that day, and we stopped at one of our favorite restaurants on the way home. A wonderful day. This year, it was raining the day before, so we went to my favorite mall and watched Sophie have a blast in the kids play area. Then we stopped at the same restaurant, where Sophie sat in a booster seat for the first time. Such a big girl! She did so well, and we had another great day. Sunday, we went to church, where we had to stand, even though we arrived early. Sophie ws so beautiful in her new Easter outfit. She did so well during mass, I think it was a blessing that we had to stand. Sophie can get pretty squirmy in the pew. Plus, there are some hymnals with torn pages she may know something about.. Then we came home to see that the Easter bunny had indeed visited. We had a blast checking everything out and watching Sophie have such a great time. Then we went to my parents, where my Dad hid lots of eggs with quarters for Sophies piggy bank. It was the best Easter ever, making it a pretty darn good Easterversary. I can't wait for the next one. Then again, Sophie will be about 12, so maybe I can:) I do know that I want to savor every moment in between.

Good Friday

Being raised Catholic, and having spent most of my grade school years, and all of my highschool years in parochial schools, I have lots of memories of Good Friday. My first memory of the Stations of the Cross is from first or second grade at St. John in Greenwood, a very beautiful church. While I was awestruck by the older students performing the Stations of the Cross, I was a little squirmy in my seat. My other memories of Good Friday are about getting out of school early and going out to lunch with my Mom and sisters. Holidays were always so fun in my family, and I always looked forward to them. It wasn't until the Easter right after my 10th birthday that I found out the Easter Bunny did not exsist. My youngest sister, who was three at the time, was sick in the hospital, and my Dad took the rest of us to church while my mom was headed to see my sister. I remember looking out the back window as we drove away and seeing my mom turn around and go back. All of the sudden it clicked, and I figured it out. We always had very elabaorate Easter baskets that were hidden around the house, as well as other items, like toys and such. We would discover them when we came home from church. Then my Dad would hide eggs in the backyard. I only recall going to one actual Easter egg hunt, probably the same year, or maybe the next. With four girls, it was fun just to have them in our backyard. Last year, Sophie was only 7 months old, and try as I did, I could not find a venue for her to crawl around and search for eggs. I did take her to see the Easter Bunny and get her picture. This year, I am on the hunt again. I have found lots of options, but haven't decided which one to go to. I really want Sophie to have all the fun memories of all the holidays, as I do. We did not go to the Stations of the Cross this year, but we will be going to Easter Mass. Sophie does okay during Mass. We always take her with us, because we want her there, but it may get to the pont that she will have to go to the nursery. I hope not. There is no childcare during the Easter Mass, but of course she will look so cute, no one will care if she's a distraction, right?

Another beautiful day in the neighborhood!

As usual, breakfast started out in the highchair and has now moved to the green room, where the bulk of the toys are. At least we get to start in the kitchen, so we can watch the pug boys go potty and make sure they aren't dogknapped by the mean coyote. I have my trusty shovel right next to the door. It is the same shovel we have used to throw the poopy into the woods for the last nine years. One day there may be a poor, mean coyote limping through those woods with a poopy laden head wound. As long as he doesn't cross me, he is safe. I am free at the moment to blog, since my duty of carrying the sippy of milk and bowl of fruit and sitting them in the exact spot that is pointed out to me is complete. Okay, I have just been handed the duster and told to clean the floor:) Oh, now Sophie is cleaning Toby with the duster. Better him then me!

Weight a minute, did you just say the F word?

You know the one, that terrible word that places a stigma on you, sometimes for life. That's right, I am FAT! OMG!

Maybe it's because I did not grow up fat, but rather started to put on weight in my teenage years, but I just don't get the deal. Of course, it is not healthy. Neither is smoking, drinking alcohol on any kind of regular basis, driving over the speed limit, and any number of other habits. Plus, unlike all those habits, my fat hurts me, not anyone else. Don't get me wrong. I don't choose to be this way. I am working hard on it, particularly now that I have a young child and am getting older. I do not condone it. But, why is it okay to make fun of fat people? Why do people actually feel superior to fat people? In reality, I am sure most don't, but it does make them feel better to look down on us. For the longest time I was puzzled when I read stories of overweight woman being called names on the street. I have never experienced this. Maybe I just don't notice. I sure don't give an F. What I have dealt with is the fact that most people immediatly assume that I am timid because of my weight. When this is not found to be the case, I must be a bitch. A fat bitch. Okay, I am FAT, telling me that does not hurt me. It is a fact. Also a fact, sometimes I am a bitch. The word I do find offensive is intimidating. Hmm. A strong, smart, funny, nice FAT woman is intimidating. Argghh!

Then there is the loaded question, "When are you due?" MY usual response is, "I am not pregnant", sometimes preceded by a puzzled "What?" Oh the irony of going through a miscarriage while working with the public and being asked that question. Those times, my response was pretty indignant. Most the time, the question was posed by an ingnorant idiot. Sometimes it was just facetious. Ironically, when I actually WAS pregnant, few people asked, until my third trimester when they would say "any day now". To which I would say "I hope not", since I was still two months or more away from my due date. As much as I preach tolerance, I have a very low tolerance for stupid people. I'm just saying.

Of course, being heavey, I must be unable to perform any physical activity. I must go through the drive thru and order multiple Big Macs, which I have never had, by the way. I worked a very physical job for over twenty years. I could out walk any 16 year old I hired. Am I in the best shape? No. But I have always had a fire in my belly. My big belly:) I can pretty much do what I want. My particular problem, fueled by the insulin resistance that causes my pcos, is that I need alot of activity to lose weight. The eating habits I have now are actually pretty good. Could I eat less many days? Probably. I am an extremely picky eater, a subject for another day.

I do think the part of the country I live in may make a difference. The first time I went to my husbands hometown, which is on the east coast, I was sitting next to him in a church pew at his brothers wedding rehearsal, and when he introduced himself to someone from the wedding party, she turned to a woman sitting behind us and asked her if she was Ann. Because, of course this FAT woman next to him could not be his fiance! A similiar incident happened on a subsequent trip. Though, it has happened a couple times here, when I went out with my hubby and an overweight male friend, that it was assumed that the two FATTYS were together. Bizarre!

I really think that I have spent my adult years FAT for a reason. I have a much thicker skin, and a very different perspective than I would have had if I never gained all the weight. Of course, I hope to get the unFAT perspective, too. And, I hope to instill in my daughter to treat everyone with the same respect, including herself, fat or thin.

Weekend

What a fabulous weekend here in the beautiful Seattle area! We have been waiting a long time for some spring weather. Chet worked all weekend, so Sophie and I mainly hung out at home. I did do some spring cleaning, and pulled out some more of my Easter decor. Then I remembered that I forgot all about my Easter flag that hangs outside. I knew something was missing. After searching in the garage for 10 minutes, I had to give up, since Sophie and Toby, one of my two pugs, were having too much fun playing in the garage. Then I got to chase Sophie around my car. Funny how I always know exactly where I put things, but when I go to get them, they have been moved. Plus, once I get something in my mind, I don't forget about it, or shut up about it until I find it, or take care of it, whatever the case may be. Poor Chet. He is going to have nightmares tonight about the Easter flag. I guarantee it.

Marriage

For whatever reason, I can't use the space bar in the title, thus the title "Marriage", and not "Gay Marriage", the actual subject of my rantings today. Sorry, but I will have to wait until my more computer literate husband comes home to figure out what the heck is going on. Anyway, I was shocked to learn yesterday that Iowa will now allow Gay marriage. Why wasn't this on AOL's front page, I wonder? I will admit, I did not do a whole lot of reading up on it. Though, I did see where there is some concern that Iowa will now become a "Gay Mecca", with gays and lesbians flocking there to get married, oh my! Umm, in these "tough economic times", any person with half a brain could figure out that this could bring untold revenue into Iowa! Hell, if I wanted to go into catering, could live in a land lock state, and wasn't worried about my small dogs being carried off in a tornado, I would be packing up the uhaul now. Hell, why don't they just raise the tax on astroglide? This is an amazing business opportunity people!

Back to the subject of mariage. Of course there are lots of Christian fundementalist groups up in arms over this. Have you ever noticed the names of these groups? They are always something like the American Coalition of families, or some similiar b.s. Why don't they just call it what it is, like American Coalition for the Preservation of the missionary postion. What I will never understand is why people care who wants to marry who. Or why we think we have the right to tell people they are not a "real" family, because there is not a mom and dad. I love marriage. MY personal belief in marriage is that two people who cannot imagine life without eachother, and want to commit the rest of their lives, and are willing to do so no matter what(barring abuse, of course) should be able to do so. The divorce rate in this country is ridiculous. Why don't all these anti gay marriage people, masking themselves as "Pro Family" spend their time counseling engaged couples about the pitfalls of marriage. We spend so much time worrying about the stupidest things. Are there really idiots that think a child is better off in a traditional family, where there is at least a 50/50 chance that Mommy and Daddy will divorce, than in a loving family that may be two moms or two dads? Thank God we are raising our child to be loving, tolerant, and accepting of others. MY sincere hope and belief is that by the time Sophie is old enough to understand, any two consenting adults will be allowed to be married anywhere in the United States, and all married couples will take their vows more seriously.

Subject of the day-Infertility

Infertility sucks! Those of us that have gone through it,or are going through it, live in a completely different world than those who have not. Because, really, you never get through to the other side. Just like any struggle you go through in life, it forever changes you, warps your view, and makes you different from others. I honestly could write a series of books about my struggle with infertility. Here is a condensed version.

I was diagnosed with PCOS in 1991, after years of symptoms. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome has lots of different symptoms, not all of which every sufferer displays. The biggest is infertility. When I was diagnosed I was single, but asked about having children. I was told that when the time came I would be given clomid, and would be able to get pregnant. I was married in 1997, but waited until the beginning of 1999 to go off of birth control, which controlled my pcos symptoms. When I wasn't pregnant by the end of 2000, I went to an OB to get the clomid as well as a "new" drug they were using to fight pcos. Umm, no! I was not so nicely told that I needed to go home and lose weight. That the drug, Metformin, which is a diabetic drug, still wasn't approved by the FDA for treatment of PCOS. Nevermind that every magazine I read said to go to the doctor and get on the met. No, this doc had all the answers. My problem was my weight, not the PCOS. So, I was sent home with a pack of birth control pills to "jump start" my system, and told to come back when I was 35. At the time, I was 33. Needless to say, I never saw that skinny bitch again. Another two and a half years went by, and I found a new OB, also skinny, but not a bitch. I got my met, and some clomid. Thirteen rounds to be exact. And four iui's, two miscarriages and a referral to a Reproductive specialist with "a bad bedside manner", which was an understatment. Crabby Australian R.E. insisted my only chance was IVF. After that failed, CAD, as we will call him here, said my only chance was to use donor eggs. I was 38 and the well was dry. I took a break. I had it in my head that I would wait until I was 40, and then start the adoption process. In the meantime, everyone around me was pregnant. Or talking about getting pregnant. Or not getting pregnant. Or how they would never do anything artificial to get pregnant. I sat there in pained silence, thinking that I would be injected with monkey guts if it could get me pregnant. My ache for a baby colored my entire world. At the same time, I just could feel that a presence was out there, waiting.

In December of 2006, I was 39, 3 months from 40. I had done one more round of clomid in September, when I got a strange call from the pharmacy that it was ready. It had to have been a very old order. My Ob consented, but made me go in. It didn't work, and she said it was time to move on to adoption, but I still was waiting for my 40th. December 12th was the 2 year anniversary of my first due date. I highly suspected I was pregnant, though that was nothing new. If I had all the money back that I spent on pregnancy tests (and still do), I could send my daughter to Yale. I was going to be in the area that my doctors were the next day, but I just could not jinx myself by testing that day. The next day. 12/13/06, I went shopping with my mom on our annnual Chrsitmas shopping trip. All day I knew I would be stopping at Target to get a test, but didn't say anything. I never told anyone when I was testing, not even my husband. When I got home, I took the test. It was digital, because that was the cheapest that day. My pug Simon was in the bathroom with me, as always. OMG! Pregnant. Where is the not? It always said not pregnant. Deep down, though, I had known for days. I was pregnant. No fertility meds. One of my rotten eggs had worked. I called Chet at work. I called my mom, who I was with all day. And, I called the office of CAD, because even though he was an ahole, I knew he would do everything to sustain the pregnancy. And he did. It was a very bumpy ride. I never believed the entire pregnancy that I was really going to go home with Sophie. But, I did! One, good, wonderful, beautiful egg made it through! The minute I saw her face, I knew her. This was the spirit that was always out there, and now she is here, blessing my life every second of every day for almost 20 months. Even with her, the pain is still there. Siblings? I get asked all the time. I don't know. We will see what is in store. Our family may very well be complete, though not how we planned or hoped. I would love a sibling or two for Sophie, but it is in Gods hands. I do know that I will never be part of the fertile club. As truly happy as I am at the announcement of every new pregnancy, it still hurts every time. That will never go away.

Introduction

Hi! As this is my first blog post, allow me to introduce myself. I am a 42 year old married mom to one miracle little girl, and two spoiled, crazy pug boys. I spent 22 years working in the retail world, all for the same company. I am currently on sabbatical, not as a victim to the economy, my job was very secure. I decided shortly(within hours) after returning from maternity leave that I wanted to take a year off to spend with my daughter, and contemplate what the next chapter in my career would be. I worked until my daughter turned one, and I have been off for seven months now. I have entered a new and strange world that revolves around "playdates" and "parenting philosophies". Love playdates, have NO philosophy. I do what works for me and my family, which is pretty much how I do everything. I have always had a mind of my own, which has served me well:) I am Catholic, but do not agree with everything the church says. I am very liberal in some ways, and conservative in others. I cringe at being labeled a democrat or republican. I really don't care what others do with themselves, as long as they aren't bringing harm to anyone, or infringing on basic rights. Owning an oozie and killing an unborn child are not "basic" rights, in my opinion. You won't find me protesting on a street corner, however. I am too busy in my own little world:)