Last week, I got a call from my doctor telling me that the results of my blood test weren't as great as the nurse would have had me believe. According to my progesterone levels, I hadn't ovulated. Since my period came less than a week after the test, this news was not terribly welcome. Some at home testing this week is proving to be just as upsetting. Can't make an omelet without any eggs.

What is strange is how hard this development has hit me. I knew we would have to overcome the vasectomy and I know I'm not exactly in the prime of my fertility, but I figured I had a few old eggs still rattling around inside me. My periods never stopped (Which I find to be the height of rudeness. I'm talking to you, body. If you're not gonna release the eggs, why ya gotta make me cramp and bleed?)

The doctor seems in a rush. Maybe because she's my age and has kids already. Maybe because I cry in her office too often. Of course, there's hope. It may be as simple as taking a medication to force those damned eggs out of hiding or as complicated as IVF. The rushing doctor is hopeful. As is the husband. But I can't help but wish for the stupid ovulation test strip to show two lines and have everything happen naturally. That hope will stay alive until the next period starts. Then some new doctors will get to hear my cry!

And just like that I'm angry again. Wednesday nights are no longer my favorites, thanks to basketball practice which takes 1 away from family dinners. Boo. In order to make this day work, I need to make dinner early, feed 1, take both to drop 1 off at school (in the rain today, an added unpleasantry), get back and heat up the dinner so that when husband gets home, the three of us can eat. Then he needs to leave to pick 1 back up again. Back home, it's a rushrushrush of showers and teeth brushing and reading and bed. All of this means that in this 7 day period, we will have had one meal together and one chance for a family card game or 'Amazing Race' viewing. And that just isn't enough.

The two day stretches that happen every other week with the kids are too short. Wednesday is always an adjustment and now! with scheduling complications! Then Thursday happens and then they're gone. This is, I suppose, a good metaphor of childhood/parenting in general; it all happens and ends way too quickly. This being the case, I would like to find a way to be less cranky about the little things that make me cranky. And to be less selfish. The kids, after all, are going off to be with their mother.

I should go think of some things to be thankful for and stop the self-pity. Quickly.

p.s.

Even with some skipped days, my monthly average is WAY up!

sixsixsix!

Bad blogger checking in here. Does it help, by way of explanation (read: excuse) that I spent yesterday cleaning the house from top to bottom? I'm talking mattress-vacuuming, duvet washing and floor mopping. I was sore at the end of it all. And Sunday was filled with many hours of cooking, baking with stepkid 2, cranberry-bog-walking, painting and card games with both kids. Thankfully, I avoided the raking. I'll take cooking over raking any day; I'm old fashioned like that.

Today is my 6 monthiversary. I know it's ridiculous. My husband has always laughed at my emphasis on each monthly milestone, probably because he's had a few long relationships. Before him, I'd never made it to 6 months. And now I've been MARRIED that long! (Thursday with mark the 19 monthiversary of our first meeting, if you're counting.) Yes, it really doesn't feel like that long; the time has flown. And yes, 6 months probably doesn't seem like a big deal to most people. But to me, it is occasion enough to throw a tablecloth on the kitchen table and light some candles. As a gift, I'm letting him watch the shows he likes tonight. (Hence my presence here.) He came home early to chop up old doors and other things I want out of the basement but are too big for the garbage truck and too icky to freecycle. Trust me when I say these are REALLY good gifts, respectively.

So there it is. I'm a married lady, feeling more and more married everyday. And so far, that's a really good thing. Happy monthiversary, baby.

I was going to start this post by saying the last time I had a 9+ hour visit with a friend was so long ago I can't remember, but when I DID think about it, I could remember. That time was last month during a visit to my old stomping grounds. C met us in Central Park and spent the day helping me introduce the city to the kids. I miss him daily and although he pointed out there was no need to "catch up," no amount of texting can replace real time with a loved one.

And so it was with B, as well. (Who will read this, but that's not why I'm writing it!) Having known each other for over 26 years, we've experienced myriad levels of closeness, both geographically and emotionally. After all these years, miraculously, we've found each other living in the same state, fairly close even, and with children, step or otherwise, who, while not close in age, are all incredibly fond of each other.

Yesterday, we got together in the morning, just the kids and us (no husbands, though they're swell, too.) and managed to talk and laugh and gripe and reminisce late into the evening. And boy, did I need that. The company, for sure, but also her specific company. To remind me of another time when I was new around these parts and knew no one. B was one of the very first people I met and the very first true best friend I made. And I've been able to hang on to her for a 1/4 of a century, I just may be able to repeat history and find my place here as well.

Having not left the house for nearly 3 days (That 'Housewives of Atlanta' marathon wasn't going to watch itself!), I'd nearly forgotten it was still Autumn. After a way-too-early snow and three days in an unheated house, I kinda figured Winter had come to stay. But I did leave today and was reminded what a gorgeous neighborhood/state/region it is in which I live.

Maybe someday I'll completely stop complaining about being in the suburbs (Don't hold your breath.). Today gets a break because all of these old trees are displaying and/or shedding their most colorful leaves and seeing those bright yellows (Oak? I don't know from plants.) or one of those flaming reds, makes me all squishy inside. Although it was a crappy, rainy day, I started to think of kicking through the crunchy leaves and breathing in that crisp Fall air and I was happy to be home.

Family Dinners

It's Wednesday and the kids are back and it's making me think about what I wrote a few days ago. It used to be that every other week, when they'd been gone for the 5 day stretch, Wednesday afternoon was ROUGH. It's just the three of us and, to me, they bickered too much (I grew up with three sisters; I'm fairly knowledgeable about proper bickering amounts.) and were poorly behaved, in general. Whether it is was because of the transition or us getting used to each other or the ungodly amount of television viewing they were able to cram into 120 hours (Slightly more than what I was able to manage. But I'm a grown up. And don't do it in front of children. Or watch TV in front of them either. Hilarity.), it didn't matter. What matters is that it was ROUGH. For all involved.

Husband would come home to a cranky, possibly pissed-off me and while I suppose being angry at each other can be bonding, it wasn't the kid of bonding I enjoy. Over the course of dinner, blood sugars would normalize, the mood would lighten and by dessert, everything was cool again. Better than cool. Wednesday afternoons are no longer as difficult as they used to be, but I still count on Wednesday night dinners to bring us back together.

I love a family dinner and think most people just pay lip service to it. In my parents' home, we weren't allowed to answer the phone during dinner. No TV. No complaining about what was being served. Upon divorcing, husband made sitting down at the table for meals a priority because it was one of the things he couldn't manage to make happen during his marriage and something that bothered him. Of course, with the addition of evil stepmom came many more rules. I was appalled that the kids didn't cut their own meat. That they didn't ask for things to be passed and didn't bother saying please and thank you when someone did these things for them. And good lord!, the open-mouth chewing!

I'm happy to report that all that (for the most part) has changed. Each night we're together, we sit at a table set by one of the kids, with cloth napkins (They were made by a friend and used at our wedding. I like that they remind us of that day.) and have an entirely pleasant meal. Everyone samples each dish, even the weird-looking ones. We engage in conversation and share our day. We all work to clean up and put away the leftovers. Sometimes because we're in a hurry to watch TV.

I don't need it to be perfect, I swear. And thank goodness, because it isn't. Sometimes there's talking with a mouthful. And sometimes it's not even me.

Husband likes to tease me about my obsession with home-making blogs, most particularly this one. I do check it daily and have stolen some ideas, but much of the time, I find the writing corny and feel they make big deals about tiny projects. (The blog is their livelihood, so they need to post a LOT.) Anyway, one of the ideas I've stolen is their "thanks jar," which IS corny, but when Thanksgiving is involved, corny is okay, I think.

Every day, everyone in the house is supposed to write something they're thankful for on a slip of paper and put in in the jar, which I decorated with cardstock and ribbon. (probably an idea stolen from Martha Stewart) It's supposed to run from November 1st to Thanksgiving, but since the kids are here 1/2 the time, we started early and since they'll be with firstwife on Thanksgiving Thursday, we'll end on Friday. That day, at our dinner, we'll take turns reading the "thanks" and hopefully laugh a bit, but most importantly, feel a palpable sense of gratefulness at the abundance of goodness in our lives.

It took some explaining for the kids to get the idea, that they don't have to thank a specific person, that they can be thankful for gum if they choose. But I had hoped they'd mix in some more lofty thanks. One of the rules is that no one can read the thanks until that dinner, but because they are less than thorough folders, I've caught glimpses and I was pleased with what I peeped.

For me, the thanks has been harder to come up with some days. "Electricity" was obvious when we went without it for 3 days after a storm. "Tivo" was a no-brainer. "My husband" and "my home" were also easy, but my secret wish all along was that I would have a little slip of paper up my sleeve, ready to be the last thanks of the day, which would serve as an announcement of sorts. Thanks (har) to the arrival of my now very regular cycle, that clever notion can be scrapped. Which makes me even more anxious to hear all of the thanks and see the jar emptying and the mound of paper pile up on the table. And keep my fingers crossed that next year I'll be able to throw in "our healthy baby."

Since I wrote about being angry with husband, I suppose it's only fair to fawn over him a bit, too. He listens to much crying and whining about feeling useless and tries so hard to come up with possibilities for my time and talents. And also keeps telling me he's okay with me not working outside of our home, that he just wants me to do what will make me happy. So, you get it; he's wonderful. Which makes me want to stop whining so much, as a payback for the wonderfulness. Which makes me want to keep busy.

Which leads me to today. Today, I rearranged many kitchen cabinets in order to find a spot where a wedding gift would fit. (took me just shy of 6 months!). Today, I spent many hours sewing sequins and tiny pieces of felt together to (very nearly) finish an xmas stocking for stepkid1. My goal was to be finished my November 1st, in order to get started on 2's stocking; I guess I'm not too far off schedule. Today, I folded and put away two loads of laundry that had been sitting in laundry baskets since yesterday morning. Today, while sewing, I cleared many episodes of Atlanta Housewives off the tivo. All that, PLUS my usual stuff. Today was a good day. Two in a row!*

Actual productivity happened in my house today and I was the one making it happen! Even while I'm in the midst of inactivity and thinking about how much better I'd feel if I were getting something done, I never remember exactly HOW much better DOing makes me feel.

A couple of months ago, the part-time job I was working ended quite suddenly. My cervix- reduction procedure was scheduled for the next week, as well as a trip out of town, so I decided to not think about finding new employment for a while. When I ended up not feeling well for several weeks after the procedure, I was grateful to have the extra time. When I started feeling better, I still liked the extra time. And I started dreading the idea of working at the same type of job again. And I really had zero clues about what else I'd be qualified to do. (still don't!)

Everyday, I clean up, make dinner, maybe run some errands, do a couple loads of laundry. These things are part of my job as a housewife. I suppose to some, 'housewife' sounds like a hopelessly outdated/misogynistic/reality TVish label, but I've never looked at it negatively. Since my stepkids are only here half the time and we're all still getting used to the 'mom' part of stepmom, housewife really is the best label for me. I'm married and all the work I do revolves around the care and upkeep of the house in which I live. For Halloween I wore a pointy hat, a black dress and pearls and called myself a housewitch. Until the position of full-time mom opens up around here,* I'll settle for my current post.

*knocking on wood

This is why I'm such a bad blogger: writing isn't my top priority. But today I had something worthy to top it. Today there was an extra hour to be spent and instead of doing something extra (which is what I still consider this), I just luxuriated an extra amount in being alone with my husband. Organizing the basement with him, walking around Cambridge with him, lounging on the sofa with him. It's been a good day that I'm anxious to get back to, as it's fastly fleeting.

No Baby Talk

I've spent the whole morning thinking about how I shouldn't/don't want to whine like a baby about babies today. I'm still thinking about it and I still haven't come up with something else to talk about. Instead, I'll talk about my husband's babies. (who are 7 and 9, plus halves)

It's quiet in my house every other weekend, when the kids are with their mother. They divide their time evenly between the two houses in what I find to be a complicated schedule. The kids have done a great job of internalizing it, but 2 spends a lot of time going over it in her head. ("We won't be here on Saturday!" "You can't take us to that party; it's Mom's day!" "Next year we can be here for Halloween!")

Every other week, they are with us for a 5 day stretch, at the end of which, I am usually chomping at the bit to get them out the door. Then it's very calm for two days. I wash everyone's sheets and put the house back in order (full disclosure: the kids do several chores each day and have been quite diligent about them since being implemented by evil stepmom, so the house is never too much of a mess.), plan the week's meals, watch way too much housewives-centered television and become anxious for the kids to come back. Over the next two days, I* try to get a handle on the schoolwork and social stuff I missed, stress over manners and rules I would like to see that don't necessarily jibe with the manners and rules at firstwife's house, but mostly I think about the 5 kidless days stretch on the horizon.

And now it's here. And the doctor gave me the go-ahead, so there's sex again. I'd forgotten how much time it can eat up; we are newlyweds after all. We may get a little house/yard work done (emphasis on little), but usually those weekend days are very lazy, very quiet and very enjoyable. Husband likes to inform me that we won't have these lazy weekends with a baby in the picture. I know. Maybe that's why I revel in them so much now.

But when a new week starts and he goes back to work and there's no mess to tidy, what there is is a lonely two day stretch which leaves me downright delighted to hear husband's garage door opening in the evening and especially elated to see the kids jump off the school bus Wednesday afternoon. That Wednesday night dinner is my favorite time of the week, with the four of us back together again.

See? I can be happy. Saving the 5 days of kid talk for tomorrow.

*I say "I" instead of "we" only because I don't want to speak for husband. But he totally thinks all the same things about rules and manners. Because I told him to.

Third Time's A Charm

Gosh, did I want to skip posting today since the time got away from me and it's late now, but, the guilt! Damn you, wifemother!

The doctor took just a smidgen more of my ever-shrinking cervix in order to ensure that she had indeed removed all of the apparently just-shy-of-cancerous cells. Then, for good measure, she went ahead and took some of my blood to ensure I'm even ovulating. How can such a tiny piece of my body (I took a photo to show husband. reason #23 I'm a bad wife) and small amount of blood leave me feeling so depleted? Maybe it was the 5 noticeably pregnant women in the waiting room? Not to mention the 3 who I imagined to be pregnant, just less noticeably. Or the nonstop thoughts in my head about how easy baby-making seems to be for everyone else. Even though I know several women who have had it not so easy, I am selfishly not including them in my calculations.

In my more optimistic moments, I try to picture how silly all of this worry will seem when I eventually get pregnant. But those moments are fewer and farther between and who says I definitely get a baby anyway? Again with the selfishness (it's actually pretty disgusting how selfish I'm being-tales for another time.), but when I'm feeling sorry for myself (when am I not lately?), I start thinking about the number of other people's children I've cared for (literally hundredS) and how much time I've dedicated to learning about child development and perusing lists of baby names and I want my damn baby already. Is a baby one works harder to make a better baby? More loved? If I try hard enough and wait long enough, will I get a good sleeper/non-whiner/brilliant piano prodigy who'll take really good care of me in my old age? Because seriously, I don't need all of that!*

As my idol Veruca says, Don't care how, I want it NOW!

*Non-whiner is kind of a deal-breaker for me. But I totally know how to handle that.

And This Makes Two

Is it a bad idea to write a post when I'm angry at everyone in this house? Plus the husband, even though he isn't in the house at the moment. I'm guessing all this easy anger is somewhat due to PMS, which, since I'd really like to be pregnant right now, makes me even angrier. At my getting-older-by-the-minute eggs? At firstwife for suggesting a vasectomy? At mother-in-law who thinks another grandchild would be "a big mistake" (I did not make this up.)? At my doctor for removing the aforementioned piece of my cervix, delaying baby-making even further? That's right, all of the above. So, for the time being, I'm blaming my menstrual cycle because it seems pretty petty to blame stepkid2 for inviting and then uninviting me to chaperone a field trip, stepkid1 for throwing up in her garbage can, husband for leaving vomit-laden garbage can uncleaned (full disclosure: he did change sheets, hold hair back, etc.) and mother-in-law for, well, you know. If you have a m-i-l, you know.

In an attempt to channel my anger into productivity (there's a thought!), I did lots of chopping of vegetables for a soup and lots of measuring and mixing for a birthday cake for my niece, all to some nice, loud music. Bonus to the busyness (and loudness): annoyance of kids and m-i-l are nearly ignorable.

If you really want to dig into this anger, you should also know that I have an appointment with the cervix-snipping doctor tomorrow morning. Hopefully, she will tell me the baby-making can commence. Of course, the timing is off, which is why we cheated and jumped the gun last week. Everything was fine, working as well as ever, but this PMSiness is making me think the hurry was all for naught. Husband would argue. As much as I like sex, right now, I want results. If my calculations are correct, one more month of fruitlessness qualifies me for some fertility intervention. And if you want to see some real anger, tell me you're pregnant.

Okay, Go Ahead and Be Surprised

Yes, it's been nearly a year since my last post and yes I'm a shitty blogger(not the surprising part). I like to think of myself as a writer, because in my head I form thoughts in full sentences, as if I'm readying them for the page (or screen, as it were) and because when I go back and read the things I've written, I'm entertained. And proud. But, good lord!, am I unmotivated. And I've done precious little writing at all in the many months since I abandoned my blogpost here.

Here's a quick list of things I have done in those months (to the best of my recollection, in chronological order):

-celebrated Thanksgiving with the boy and his family (and my sister's family) instead of traveling to where I would have otherwise feasted. And, key, I didn't regret it.

-got through my first sleepover with the boy's children (a pre-arranged accidentally snowed-in sleepover). the boy slept on the couch. it went well.

-had someone to kiss when 2011 rolled around.

-saw the Grand Canyon and experienced Las Vegas for the first time.

-on a related note, partook in a family trip of sorts with the boy and his kids.

-on a similarly related note, met his father and stepmother along the way.

-fretted a lot about when the boy would marry me. out loud. to anyone with ears. or lip-reading ability.

-worried almost as much that the boy would marry me and then i'd be a wife and a stepmother. with a mother-in-law.

-married the boy. ( from here on out, i shall call him husband. )

-became a wife.

-became a stepmother.

-got a mother-in-law in the deal.

-moved into a 5 bedroom house in the suburbs. the FAR suburbs.

-had a good portion of my cervix removed in order to help me get pregnant.

-shamed myself into posting here.

wifemother reminded me about the whole "post every day of november" thing and I'm gonna do my damnedest. Even if I am starting a day late. And seem to have less motivation than ever. Maybe this will help with that?