new years parties

rule! Yay for babysitters and alcohol!

My jealousy issues revisited.

Let me preface this by saying I know I'm blessed beyond words for my 3 children. I started out wanting 2 and I got 3. We are the perfect family. I know this. I'm just having difficulty in saying goodbye to pregnancy and I want to discuss some thoughts I had. Please don't judge me and send me hateful comments. Thanks. (like someone who would send me hateful comments to begin with would see my plea and not do it!)

Okay.

I've mentioned how I'm really jealous over other pregnancies I see. Just having to come to the conclusion it's a chapter of my life which is over with is tough. So seeing others go through pregnancy is hard. It's a different "hard" than "IF hard" though. When I saw other pregnancies when I was actively trying to conceive, it was a shitload harder. "They" had something I was trying to get myself. So the jealousy was a different monster than what I have now.

What I have now is the jealousy that I'll ~never~ feel it again. And I got to comparing it to someone who has decided to live child free due to infertility (I know there are many reasons why this decision would come into play, but I'm focusing on this one reason). And NO - I'm not saying it's the same thing! I'm just thinking of how the two are similar, like as in the feelings of finality each one entails. And in this small little way, I feel a little closer to the girls who are living child free as a permanent decision. And as sad as I feel for myself, my heart aches that much more for each woman who is in this place without being able to experience pregnancy.

I got my tubes tied like an idiot, so I'm not going to even get a chance at an "oops" pregnancy. I'm done. Finished. Kaput. The decision of "living without another pregnancy" was made and I must stick by that decision no matter how much I don't want to. If you ask my husband, he wouldn't call me getting my tubes tied an idiot move. He'd call it a smart move. He doesn't want anymore children. It's me who does. But the lines between wanting to have more children and wanting to be pregnant again are very blurry.

Last night, as AF made a surprise appearance, I had an epiphany about my period. I shared it with my husband, but all I got was a nod. Heh. Anywho, I never understood how women didn't know more about their AFs - like when it was due or when ovulation happened or whatnot. And then it hit me. I NEVER let my body do what it does naturally. Until now. See, I didn't get my period until I was 16 (I was a competitive gymnast growing up and it effected my puberty) and I went on the pill before I was 17. The only time I got off the pill was for TTC reasons - so I kept track of my cycle. So I always knew when AF would make an appearance - on the pill I was regular down to the hour and when I was ttc, I was on full red alert (no pun intended).

So here I am. My tubes are tied so I have no need for the pill. My cycles have been ~fucked up~ in regards to timing. I'm having anything between a 13 day cycle to a 27 day cycle. I know some of the fucked-up-ness is due to the cortisone shots in my spine (remember me telling you the doctor told me that the injections could "mess up" my cycle?) but I don't know what else could me screwing with it. All my talking shit about women who were clueless about their cycles is coming back to me threefold. Karma, eh?

Where am I going with this post? Oh yes, my jealousy. More than that though, my sadness. I'm brokenhearted I won't have another child. And with that statement comes some massive guilt. I'm jealous over not being able to feel something ~again~. Why can't I just be happy with what I have? Wow, that comes out really wrong. I AM happy with my 3 beautiful, wonderful, amazing children. I even got blessed in the aspect of having a ~boy~ after two girls. I have everything I asked for. And yet I want more. I'm SO fucking lame.

Honestly though, I haven't completely shut the door on the chance of having more children. I may just go through IVF again. Highly doubtful, but also possible. (Sure, as possible as winning the lottery!) And there is also adoption. I may be offered a child in some random situation. Back when I was ttc Karl, we were offered a baby from an acquaintance who was trying to find a home for her neice's child who was going to be put up for adoption. So things happen. And as rare, random and not possible they are, it's never 100%, right?

Thanks for sticking with me through this entire random post. I'm surprising myself with the intense feelings of jealousy I am having. I'm jealous over things I've already been through. And there's another thing - I'm quite a bit older now. 95% of the girls going through their pregnancies right now - beit their first or second - are way younger than I. I'm at the age where I wanted to be done with pregnancies and raise my children. The pregnant girls are in their child making years (totally generalizing here!) and I am past that.

My goodness. I'm rambling. Thanks again! Here's an OOTB ("out of the blue") question ... What is your favorite candy bar? (and if you don't eat candy, let's pretend someone was holding a gun to your head to pick out and eat that candybar.) I'll tell you my favorite in the comments.

A little explanation about the giving/getting

My entire point about giving/getting meant that for every GIVE out there, it was a GET to someone. So in the end, it's ALWAYS about getting - regardless of the ~who~ gets the getting. I think it's great to give to others who may need it (i give way more than i get in return) but at the end of the giving, it's a get.

Anywho - just didn't want you all to think ~I~ was all about getting. Just that giving, in its definiton, is about someone GETTING. So it IS about the getting (and all the giving it takes to make those getting get!)

And if you are wondering where I am or will be the next few days - check out my other blog.

(a little private message to marieke ... ~smooches~ !!)

Christmas is all about GETTING. And another Nancy Story.

I touched on this subject on my other blog, but I'll just repeat myself here. People who are all about "the holidays are for giving" piss me off. If you give, someone is getting. So without getting, there'd be no giving. So get off your high horses and admit ~getting~ is freaking fantabulous.

Hrm. What is next in line of Nancy Stories?

"Talking" shit.

I was a regular at a bar called Murphy's Pub back in my college days. I knew the staff. I knew the other regulars. I was as comfortable in the pub as I was in my own living room. Which also means, I was comfortable with talking shit to anyone who happened to walk in the doors.

It all started with me having to pee. I walk in the bathroom and do my business. When I came out of the stall to wash my hands, there was a girl and a guy in there, him bent over unzipping her pants. I give the "what the fuck" look to her and she says, with a very thick east coast accent, "I can't do it myself!" holding up her very long fake nails.

Without skipping a beat, I respond with "Maybe not being able to go to the bathroom by yourself is a hint you should stay home" and I walked out without waiting for a response.

The door FLEW open behind me and in all her eastern (new york, maybe?) rage, she screams "Are you twalking shit to me?!!!"

I say, "No. I'm TALKING shit to you. I t-a-l-k shit, not t-w-a-l-k shit."

She came unglued and went after me. It unnerved me actually, as I wasn't (and still am not) a fighter, but her big hair and long fingernails dove into me. She grabbed a hold of my hair (nice) and I was against the wall. I couldn't do anything. My head hurt SO much (seriously, there is something about the hair pulling thing. That fucking hurts.) I was rendered motionless. I tried to kick her off of me, but any movement made my head hurt worse. That's when my friend Tim (yes, a guy) punched her in the back of the head which made her pull out a square inch of scalp off my head. Ah. At least I was released from her grasp.

She was immediately grabbed by a staff member and thrown out of the bar. I stood behind the staff guy who was telling her to leave and not return nodding my head in agreement. Like I was the shit or something - when in actuality, I was hiding behind the guy, afraid to get more hair pulled. I'll admit that I was the loser in whatever kind of fight it was.

As the melee calmed down, everyone was asking me if I was okay and I was nodding yes. Except my head hurt bad. Damn, being scalped fucking hurt bad. It was at this time some guy walked up to me, holding out his hand to me saying "here's your hair back" and I notice there was a gigantic hunk of hair and scalp in his hand. Ewww. "Um, thanks dude".

Nancy's way of going out BIG.

I was a good student. I can't help it - school is easy for me. Hence me being half way through my nursing program and if I just took a year of physics, I'd have another bachelor's degree in computer science. But I digress ...

When I was going through my first bachelor of science degree at Arizona State University, there was a HUGE party to celebrate the end of school one night. The problem was, it was the night before my very last final, which was scheduled at 7:15am. But I was flying in that class - all I had to do is show up and even GUESS on every answer and I'd still get an A. I figured out I had to get something like 4 right to keep my A.

So I partied. And partied. And partied. The last thing I remember was holding up a shot of jack daniels and saying "I have my last final exam in 3 hours!" and down the shot goes into my belly. Shortly thereafter, I pass out.

I wake up in a start, look at a clock and see it's 9 something. HOLY SHIT. I missed my final. I race out the door, probably a little still drunk, get to school which was conveniently down the street from the apartment I was partying at and RUN to class.

I come face to face with my teacher whom I start begging him to let me take my final. I slurred out some excuse about working late and sleeping through the alarm, but come on, I reeked of booze. I should of told him the truth. Anywho - he refused to let me take the exam but he did let me turn in my paper for HALF CREDIT. Grrrr. I ended up getting a freaking ~C~ in that class. I guess it could of been worse though, he could of failed me!

The dead body in the dumpster and behind my car.

When I graduated college, I moved to where my brand spanking new job was - Central Phoenix. My apartment was awesome. I loved it. But the neighborhood? Let's just say I have a few stories. I'll tell the one very short one about the body in the dumpster and the one about the dead body behind my car.

The dead body in the dumpster

Well, um, there was a dead body in the dumpster. That pretty much wraps up the whole story. I got up to go to work and I pass by the dumpster which is 1 car space and a driveway width away from my car and well, there apparently was a dead body in there. At least the killer was nice enough to clean up after himself.

The dead body behind my car

I am ~always~ late. Not by much - maybe 5-15 minutes, but always late. It sucks. So I was running out to my car to get going to work, maybe in the <5 minutes late zone and since I was getting shit at work lately, I needed to leave.

Except when I got up to my car, there were all kinds of police standing around and a body shaped tarp laying on the pavement, behind my car. I walk up to the police. What's going on? "We've got a body, waiting for homicide" I'm told. I walk up closer as no one is telling me to stay away, and I realize its just the guy's bottom legs that are behind my back tire by seeing the outline of the guy's shoes.

Me: "Can you move the guy so I can back my car out? I gotta get to work."
Cop: "No we can't move him. Gotta wait for homicide."
Me: "How about you just lift up his legs while I back up?"
All 4 Cops: {dead pan stare}...
Me: "Okay, but some one's going to have to call my boss."

I had someone come pick me up from work who verified YES, a dead body was blocking my way to work. I wasn't considered late. :)

For my 1,000th post, I give you, Scary Guy Pills.

I wanted to retell one of the funniest stories in my repertoire. You've heard it before if you've been a long time reader, but I promise, it'll still make you laugh. in fact, since I've been at a little lull in my blogging lately, I'm going to make an effort to tell a lot of my "nancy stories" here. Many people say I should write a book. Maybe I'll just write here ...

Scary Guy Pills

I lived in central phoenix after college. Not quite the suburbs if you know what I mean.

One day at lunch, I ran out to the bank to put in a deposit. I had to turn left into the bank and there was a lot of traffic. I pulled in the middle lane to wait for my turn. When I pulled into the lane, I was face to face with another car who was waiting for his turn to go. I assumed (wrongly) that he was waiting to turn left also.

I don't know how it is in all states, but in Arizona, it's illegal to use the turning lane as a merging lane. You use the lane to turn left. Period. Not to to merge into it first, wait for a space, and then continue to go forward. See, I used to get a lot of tickets in my teenage years and I've been to traffic school ~a lot~.

When oncoming traffic cleared, I went to turn left. At the same time, the guy who was facing me in the turning lane, went to merge into traffic, so he almost hit me. Yeah, he was in the lane first, but since he was making an illegal maneuver, I had the right of way, so I flipped him off (as anyone in Phoenix would do) and continued on my turn into the bank.

There I was, waiting my turn in the drive through. I was up at the little tube thingy, putting in my deposit, and I notice the same car drive through a closed bank lane and park perpendicular to the exit of my lane, blocking me in. This huge black guy comes out (doesn't make any difference to the story that the guy was black. But I was a little tiny white girl, so he was that much more intimidating to me) and starts screaming at me.

The whole bank is watching.

I want to look at "cool" as possible, so I start smart mouthing the guy, even though I should of just apologized so he would cool down. While he's barraging me with curse words, I'm smiling as big as possible, nodding my head saying "uh-huh. You don't say? Really? Wow." This is infuriating him even more. But I persist.

As he basically runs out of curse words and is silent for more than a second, I look to him and say "Are you done? Cause if you are, maybe you should go home and take some more Scary Guy Pills."

No fucking clue where that came from. But I was quite happy with how it sounded. Rarely do you get a good "come back" in the moment.

At that, he stopped, cocked his head in confusion, put his left hand on the opening of my open car window and with his right hand, punched me directly in the face.

Things go black.I woke up to 1) blinding pain in my face 2) about every male customer on top of this guy, keeping him away from me and 3) the entire bank in the drive through window watching the melee. Awesome.

The guy stood up and the men stayed between me and him. He did some more cursing and got into his car and left. Police were called who gave me a lecture for getting into a confrontation with the man to begin with - scolding me over the idea "what if he had a gun?". Well, he didn't have a gun and he punched me. Can we focus on that? I'm the victim here!

The car ended up being stolen and they never found the guy. I had a wicked black eye and bruised cheekbone. And my mom was right - some day my mouth WAS going to get me into trouble.

Moral of this story? Confusing a very mean man can get you punched in the face. But it's a good story, no?

I've had a rough week.

Whew. I felt like I was crawling out of my own skin all week but I'm feeling better everyday. We got our Christmas tree and now it's time to decorate it. It may just be completed today. Woot!

Hope all is well in blogland. I'll sneak back in. Off to write for the cereal killer girls!

A request

Please stop by and give some internet love to Cece. Her world has just been turned upside down as her newborn daughter just passed away unexpectedly. It's also her son's first birthday.

As you can imagine, she needs all the support we internets can muster.

oy vey. I'm sick sick sick.

I've got the chills. My tummy is pissed off at me. I'm puking in the trashcan next to the bed.

I'm pretty hot, eh?

Yeah, this is day four of the energy zapping crud I have. Seriously. It's hard just to sit here and type. But if I lay in bed any longer I'm going to go insane. I can't get comfortable and I'm constantly cold. At least if I move around I can start to warm my feet up again.

Last night I drug myself out of bed to go to my husband's holiday party. I was a horrible date. Usually I'm way more fun but I just couldn't muster the energy. Oh, and my husband's coworker's pregnant wife was at our table and I was so jealous! She tried hard for this pregnancy though, so I am happy for them. They've had failed IVFs and succeeded spontaneously. Yay for them. She sat there with her hand on her belly. It was so sweet. I wanted to punch her in the face reach out and feel her belly. But I kept my hands to myself. Oh, the story of me eating the pin? It was while I was making a baby blanket for her.

I just watched the movie Alive yesterday. That movie just makes my skin crawl. Not because they had to eat their dead companions to stay alive, but that it was SO cold. Last night, when we left the party, it was ONE degree outside. It just brought my mind to how I would never ever make it if I was one of the survivors of that plane crash. I could eat a person, sure, but survive the cold? No fucking way. 72 days in the andes? The story is nothing short of a miracle.

Anywho, time to go lay back down. I hate being sick!

The green monster is alive and well.

SO many women I was pregnant with are pregnant again. As I read their posts, I'm sharing in all their happy moments - feeling movement for the first time, hearing the hearbeats, growing bellies, maternity clothes, etc.

And I am JEALOUS AS HELL.

Yes, I was blessed to feel 3 babies grow inside me. And I have 3 children to show for it. But, as I have said before, I'm having a hard time with the fact it's all over.

And then I think of my friends who have had to close their TTC journeys with the knowledge they'll never feel a pregnancy at all. And I feel like a giant jerk. How in the world can I have these feelings with being blessed 3 times over? Yet, I can't help how I feel.

So I ask you all out there - is there any feelings you have that you feel it's awful for you to feel? Even non-if related. I'm curious how normal (or not normal) I am.