Mommy Fail- The Dog Shit Diaries

Yesterday after work I decided to take my lovely daughter and our dog, Joey for a walk around the block. The weather was warm but not oppressive and we all needed a little exercise, so I leashed up the dog and shoe'd up the baby and off we went.

I'll start by saying that I knew this wouldn't be easy exactly. I'd chosen not to bring the stroller because I thought she would like to walk. Caitlyn is pretty sure in her footing now, so I wasn't so worried about her falling but there were other issues that made it a challenge. Joey can get a little overzealous on his walks and I tend to be THAT woman, with the asshole dog dragging her around the block. And that just doesn't work out so well when you are trying to hold your one-year-old's hand. And did I mention how there aren't any sidewalks on half the streets around my house? Yeah. Complicated. But I knew my daughter would love the fresh air and anything that drains some of her toddler energy is worth the effort on my part.

It started off okay. We walked around the corner and through a sprinkler, which Caitlyn thought was hilarious. Joey got halfway up the first block and took a shit. It was then that I noticed the plastic bag I'd chosen had a bit of a hole in the bottom. Still, I solidered on, doubling the bag over onto itself and being a good dog owner who doesn't leave their dog's shit all over the place.

We were halfway around the block when we hit the first street that has a sidewalk. I thought I could breathe a little easier because I could let go of Caitlyn's hand for a while and not have to worry about her running immediately into oncoming traffic. I could wrangle the dog a little better. I could let her frolic on lawns and shit. And frolic she did. She spent a good 5 minutes running in circles in front of one house while I tried my hardest to corral her back onto the sidewalk.

At one point during Caitlyn's frolicking, the dog started pulling me in the opposite direction. She was safely in the grass and Joey was dragging himself toward the street side of the sidewalk. I finally righted him and he promptly moved toward the lawn and took another shit. Caitlyn was a couple of feet away on the same lawn, so I quickly moved in to scoop up the poop.

As I bent down and took my eyes off of her for just a second, Caitlyn decided that lawn time was over and crossed the sidewalk toward the street. Just as I lifted my head, a bag full of poop in my hand, I saw why she left the lawn. I'd miss something critical when Joey pulled me toward the street. It happened in slow motion from there. She was leaning over, EVER....SOOO.....SLOOOOWLY. She reached out her hand toward her target, her fingertips brushing the treasure she sought. In a mere moment she would have it fully in her grasp, where it would surely go promptly into her mouth. No, I had to stop this. "Nooooooooo", I shouted, abject horror clear in my voice. "Dooooooon't eaaaaaaaaaaaaat the DOOOOOOG SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!".

Like a ninja I grabbed her, shaking loose her grip. She dropped the dog shit back into the grass and looked up at me with confusion in her eyes. I grabbed my plastic bag and quickly scooped up Joey's little gift. That's when a second tragedy befell me. The bag tore. And now we both had shit on our hands.

The second half of our journey around the block was spent with me scolding the dog for...taking a shit I guess? And pushing Caitlyn's hand away from her mouth because she chose that very moment to decide that her fingers were delicious.

We got home where I promptly scrubbed us both clean. Once that was accomplished I could put her down and let her play while I fed Joey. So of course I dropped a piece of dog food which she immediately (ninja genes and all that) grabbed and put in her mouth before I could take it away from her. I guess she wanted to compare the before and after? She was very pissed off when I took it away. She's spent the last 2 months trying to sample that damn dog food.

So that was it- our eventful, disgusting walk around the block. Next time, I'm bringing the damn stroller.

IVF is Fun Like a Roller Coaster is Fun Until Someone Falls Out

This weekend was kind of a busy one. I helped Nadine move on Saturday, then came home all jealous of her fancy new place and decided that I couldn't wait another second before getting my house in order.

The thing is, I've lived in my current apartment for 2 and a half years. And I'm just getting around to this shit now. It isn't my fault, exactly. You see, the thing is that I moved in February of 2009. I was 5 months pregnant with my son and vomitting and exhausted pretty much constantly. Then there were the 6 months after that pregnancy ended. Obviously there were emotional issues which made me not give a fuck about my house. Then there was IVF #2. Lemme break down my IVF cycle for you, to give you an idea of what I was dealing with:

Step 1: 2 weeks- birth control pills. They do this to stop your eggs from starting to mature because they want them all to be at the same level so you get more than one egg when you start stimulation. My body was not happy about this. I pretty much had what was essentially PMS for these 2 weeks. Murderous fury raged through my body. I hated everything.

Step 2: Stimulation. I actually had this easier than most IVFers. I did a minimal stimulation protocol which means I used Clomid instead of all the scary injections. But here's the thing about Clomid: You know those barren ovaries from 2 weeks ago? Yeah, they are in crazy estrogen mode now. Your body is flooded with crazy. All you can think about is ice cream and procreating. You pass by a high school and see a 17 year old on a skateboard and think how he's probably got healthy sperm. And you muse about how easy it would be to get a 17 year old to impregnate you. Way easier than IVF, that's for sure. Oh sure, he might be a little turned off by the sweating and irrational mood swings and maniacal cackling, but he would get over it. And you were going to Babies R Us anyway... I bet you could just buy him a video game and offer some poon and he would totally go for it.

Step 3: Monitoring. Technically this is part of the stimulation process, but it's just so fucking laborious that it needs to be it's own step. It went a little something like this: Go to the doctor, have blood drawn, drop trou and get violated by the dildogram. Go to work and wait several hours to get results and find out when your next appointment is. Phone obviously rings while a customer or your boss is standing in front of you and you have to excuse yourself to check on your eggs. Receive call, obsess. Repeat at next appointment, 4 days later. Repeat at following appointment 2 days after that. Repeat at appoinment after that, another 2 days later. Repeat another day after that. And the next day too. Oh wait...is it finally time for your retrieval? Perfect! I'm sure my job will be fine with 2 days notice. Oh and that Lupron nasal spray that tastes like a dead cat? SERIOUSLY, I've been looking forward to it!

Step 4: Egg Retrieval. Oh, how to put this delicately? Stirrups. Giant needle through your vaginal wall and into your ovary. Suck out contents of ovary. Repeat on the other side (did I mention that you aren't sedated? Yeah, a low dose Valium sounds totally appropriate here). But hey, you get the immediate satisfaction of knowing that they were able to retrieve eggs from all 3 of your mature follicles... but hey now, what's that about a "broken" egg? What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean? God, embryologists are SO fucking vague.

Step 5: Did you think monitoring was something fun to obsess about? Oh, yeah that was nothing. Did the eggs fertilize? Oh yeah. OK good. Except for that one broken one. I guess I should have expected that. Are they growing? Are they growing FAST enough? When are we scheduling the embryo transfer? Oh what's that? Only one of them made it past day 2? Fuck. One shot...

Step 6: Wait a fucking month. This isn't the usual, but Clomid can mess with implantation and I didn't get pregnant on my first fresh cycle, so my RE recommended freezing the embryo at day 5 and waiting a month (I should also mention that we went through all the motions of a cycle right up to scheduling a retrieval the month before this but cancelled at the last minute because we just had a bad feeling and something seemed...off).

Step 7: Bleed. Call doctor, start monitoring. Again.

Step 8: Finally, FINALLY schedule embryo transfer. Hope embryo survives thaw. Like half of them don't, in case you were wondering. Wouldn't that just be a bitch.

Step 9: More stirrups. Giant squirty straw. One live embryo, described by the nurse as "beautiful".

Step 10: More fucking waiting. Oh, and don't test at home because we gave you a shot of hormones that will turn the test positive even if you aren't pregnant. Oh and did we mention how we don't think you have had enough hormones in your body for the last couple of months? Take this estrogen and shove these progesterone suppositories into your vagina twice a day. They will give you symptoms to make you think you are pregnant even if you aren't. Oh, and they are gonna leak and stain your undies. Do you feel sexy and fertile yet?

Step 11: Test at home anyway. Feel excited but not too excited because it's-probably-just-the-shot when the test turns positive.

Step 12: Blood pregnancy test. Wait half a day to get results. Cry like a little baby bitch when they tell you that, yes, in fact you ARE pregnant. Mom doesn't appreciate it when you call her sobbing with GOOD news.

Step 13: Don't get your hopes up just yet bitch. Remember the last time you were pregnant?

Step 14: Schedule appointment with new OB. Start on blood thinners and baby aspirin because maybe you have a clotting problem seeing as how you had a late term loss last time.

Step 15: 7 week ultrasound with fertility doctor (RE). All is well. Baby has a heartbeat.

Step 16: 8 week ultrasound. Is that bleeding? Yeah. Sometimes that indicates an impending miscarriage. Fingers crossed, bitches.

Step 17: Be pregnant. Don't have a miscarriage. Don't eat deli meat. Call doctor crying because you didn't know the fondue cheese dip had liquor in it and you are pretty sure you are going to have a miscarriage. Finally stop vomitting at 16 weeks. Call doctor crying because you are pretty sure you are having a miscarriage. Baby starts sleeping in cycles. Call doctor crying during all sleep cycles because you are pretty sure you are having a miscarriage.

Step 18: Have a baby. Who would have thought? Baby is lovely and perfect. Spend first 3 months of her life imagining every horrible thing that could happen to her. Wake up in the night frequently to make sure she is still breathing (I still do this sometimes).

Step 19: Exclusively pump for 9 months, because this baby will not goddamn latch.

Step 20: Finally relax and enjoy motherhood. Maybe now you have time to address this shithole you live in? Fucking lazy whore...

So seriously people, don't judge me. I DID get around to it eventually. How do we feel about yellow?

Something Strange in the Neighborhood

You remember how in one of the Ghostbusters sequels there was that river of demon slime? I'm pretty sure that happened for real today.

I take 2 trains- the first takes me to a train station just on the NY/NJ border, then I take the PATH train (underground subway type train) across the river into the city. The way it works is that all the PATH trains go between NJ and NY but there are different start and end points. There are trains to 33rd street from 2 different locations and trains to the World Trade Center from 2 separate locations in NJ. So usually, when there is a delay, it involves one line or one station in particular. Unless there is a major technical issue, it's rare to see all the lines having problems.

This morning they were making announcements over the station's PA that there were 15 minute delays across the board from all stations into NY. The reason? A "sick passenger". Really now. Explain to me how a sick passenger creates a problem like that across multiple trains and multiple stations. It doesn't make sense. My theory? Demon slime of course.

I don't doubt that someone got sick, but the circumstances made me wonder what kind of sick would cause that kind of problem. I could only come to one probable answer: the sick passenger in question was projectile vomitting demon slime. And let me tell you, the city of New York did a stellar job of cleaning up that demon slime quickly and efficiently before anyone who isn't as smart as me could ever figure out it was there. Props, NYC, props.

While we are on the subject of trains, can we take a moment to talk shit about one of my fellow commuters? Of course you want to hear about the inane bullshit of my daily life! That's what blogging is for!

So while I was waiting for my demon train this morning, I found myself ducking another passenger. There's this woman. I usually run into her on my way home and I was not about to expend that kind of mental energy at 8:00am. I'm not a morning person. If she'd have seen me, I might have told her to leave me the fuck alone.

It isn't that she's an unpleasant person exactly. It's that she wants to chat every fucking day and I have absolutely nothing to say to her. It's my fault really. The PATH usually does run pretty close to schedule, but in the afternoons I never have more than 3 minutes from the time the PATH pulls into the NJ station to make it to my train home, on the other side of the station. If we are running even 2 minutes late, I can easily miss my train. Often, I'll have to run to make it. So I have the timing down to a science. I know what the cut-off point is for walking as opposed to running and if we leave the NY station past a certain time, I can be absolutely certain I won't make my train.

Lots of people take the PATH, but you can always tell the people who are trying to catch the same train home as me. We all crowd into the first car of the train, the one that's closest to the stairs to give us enough time to haul ass to our train home. Once, while on the PATH I heard a woman comment how she didn't know if she would make her train. All the trains run on the same schedule every day, so I was sure she had to be talking about the same train I take. So I asked her "the 5:25?". She said yes and I informed her that, on that particular day, we were running a bit ahead of schedule and would make the train with time to spare (one of those rare 4 minute days). She was happy to hear that and thanked me. I felt all cool and insider, like I fucking BELONGED working in the city.

Over the next few weeks, I noticed that this woman was frequently on the PATH with me. And every day she would ask me about the time, if we were going to make it. Then she started following me onto our other train and sitting next to me and wanting me to chat with her. Now, I'm not an asshole or anything, but I have a 1 year old at home. I need wind down time. And my little train ride is it. That's my downtime for the day. Still, I'm naturally polite, so I tried to find things to talk about.

She's much older than me. If I had to guess, I'd say she's in her 60s. I figured babies are always a hit with granny types. I talked about my daughter. She wasn't interested. It was obvious to me that she doesn't have any kids. Which is cool, if that's what she chose, but like, fuck dude. If she isn't a grandma, what the fuck else do I have to talk to her about? What do I have in common with this 60 year old woman that makes her think we are besties? NOTHING people. I've got fucking nothing.

Yesterday I made a point of telling her how TIRED I was and tried to nap on the train home. She wasn't having that. She decided to tell me about how her boss is a bitch and treats her like she's incompetent. All I could think was how she didn't seem to be the most perceptive person and that her boss is probably right. Is that mean? Yeah. It's kinda mean. Then she commented on how "slow" that part of the commute felt to her. Yeah bitch, it wouldn't feel so slow to me if I WAS SLEEPING LIKE I WANNA BE!

But I digress. Bitch is annoying. That's all I'm saying. And slime. Fucking slime.

A Lovely Spring Day

No.....Babysitter drama? Really? Are you sure?

I've been wanting to make a post all week about our new babysitter. The problem is, I have nothing to snark about so this is going to be a boring post.

S. is just lovely. She has a two and a half year old son, who immediately made Caitlyn his new BFF. He calls her "KK", which is fucking adorable, and follows her around and plays with her all day long. The other day when it was really hot outside, S. took them out and let them play in the sprinklers. Which reminds me, Caitlyn is walking like crazy now... running actually, and now she has a new little friend to run with.

I've been really open about the problems I've had with my sister and her babysitting skills. It wasn't ever that I felt she wasn't taking care of Caitlyn, but it always seemed more like a chore than anything else to her... like she loves Caitlyn and all, but it's always been rather obvious that she would love being around her even more if there wasn't any responsibility attached. It's so strange to me that I've found a stranger who truly seems to enjoy caring for my daughter, much more so than I ever felt my sister did. And as much as I realize it's only been a week and my feeling may change, I just get such a great vibe from her.

When someone interviews you for a job, I think it's pretty easy to see what an employer wants. At my old job, personality was so important. Anyone who wasn't completely oblivious could take a few minutes and talk to some of the people who already worked there and understand what we were looking for. And besides that, there are the obvious stand-bys: responsible, reliable, trustworthy. Those are important in any job. I think it's easy to get a feel for a place, but when someone is hiring you to watch their child it's just different. Obviously they want to know you won't leave the kid alone in the bathtub while you go do bumps of coke. But really, people's parenting styles and ideals and all that bullshit are so different. So I think it's harder to put on a show besides "I don't do coke".

My sister, for example, has different ideals than I do. Obviously. We've discussed that shit to death. In her opinion, the worst thing I could have ever possibly done is find a STRANGER on craigslist to watch Caitlyn. But then, isn't it funny how that stranger seems to share my ideas about parenting? Isn't is amazing that she spends quality time teaching and playing with my daughter and doesn't seem overwhelmed and annoyed about it? Isn't it just wonderful that when I pick Caitlyn up, instead of scouring the room for her stuff thats been strewn all over the place, it's neatly packed in her diaper bag, along with a little note addressed to "mommy and daddy" with a run-down of her day? Or the fact that she embraces my preference to give Caitlyn encouragement, hugs and kisses when she's having a bad moment, as opposed to letting her "cry it out" when she's "being a brat". It's fucking magical, that's what it is.

The point of this post wasn't to bash my sister, though it always seems to go that way. My point is that I'm just so very happy with our new babysitter. She's exactly what I hoped to find. She appreciates Caitlyn's bouncy, cheerful (and just a teensy bit spoiled) personality and gives her time to nourish her creativity, energy and intelligence. And maybe I'll be able to appreciate my sister a little more. We can enjoy each other's company without all the undercurrent of our clashing parenting styles.