Somebody's watching meeeeeeeeee....

I have a stalker.

I am sure you guys remember the post about Tiramisu, aka "Big Fat Fatty" (Other aliases include "The Woodchuck", "Lunchbox", and "Chunk LaFunk")

I am sorry the picture quality sucks, but his curmudgeonly qualities are such that this is the only photo of him with his eyes open.

Anyway, 'Su has gotten increasingly weird about me. Either we were right about the progesterone or the injections messing with my body chemistry, or I have mysteriously (and undetectably, because I checked to alleviate the paranoia) begun to smell like Li'l Friskies.

When I came home tonight, I did the first thing I usually do in the second half of the 2ww, which is to rip off my bra, because it is cutting off my circulation.

I went into the kitchen to start dinner, and the next thing I know, The Man comes in, bra dangling.

The Man: I just saw something...uh, disturbing.

Me: Let's hear it.

The Man: The cat was uh...making out with your bra. Please put it away.

Me: What the little one? She plays with everything.....

The Man: NO- It was 'SU! He was rubbing all over it and rolling around on it like a porn star. And purring.

?????!!!!!!!!!!

At night, the cats are shut in the office, because the little one creates mayhem and ricochets around all night long. 'Su gets shut in too, because that's where the food and water and kitty "facilities" are.

The other night, we couldn't find him. We finally gave up, shut the bedroom door, and went to bed. At around 6AM, I awoke to feel a solid weight snuggled behind my knees. 'Su had evidently hidden under the bed and waited for us to fall asleep. The Man banished him at some point, and he stayed right outside the door, yowling, until we took pity on ourselves and let him back in.

He's also following me around from room to room, and tonight I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to find him draped across my midsection and lovingly grooming my arm, which is something he has never done. In fact, that is probably why I woke up, since he is a 20 pounder and was probably reducing my lung capacity, not to mention putting out heat like a furry bonfire.

This is seriously freaking me out.

I know I haven't been around- I am working crazy hours, which is great money-wise, but not so hot energy-level-wise or sanity-wise. I need to slow down and schedule some time off to take care of me. Because I am falling asleep during Dancing With The Stars, and that ain't right. (And oh! I am so pissed that Albert went home! He was so sweet and goofy! Aiiiiigh! But then, I didn't vote, so it is all my fault.)

In other news, the second week of the 2ww has begun. I am exhausted (thanks, progesterone!) and for some reason, I cannot eat peanuts without feeling ill afterwards. Could that also have something to do with the progesterone? I seem to recall something about "Do not take this medication if you have a peanut allergy." But I don't have a peanut allergy.

Also, stop the presses! I am tired. And hungry. And bloated, and weepy. And signing off, because you guys seriously don't need to hear about all that, since you're more or less all experiencing it yourselves.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaawn

I am one sleepy girl.

The realization that I have been working for more than two weeks straight- not full-time, but without one complete day off- is kind of a freaky thought.

However, I have been dwelling on IF stuff a lot less, in some ways.

In other ways, I've had a few bittersweet moments.


I wore a bright blue shirt the other day, and evidently, this color attracts babies. Because all the babies in the store stared at me constantly, to the point that their mothers noticed it and got a little weirded out. One of them said, "Well! It looks like he wants to go home with you!" when her little guy reached out his arms like he wanted me to pick him up.

We both laughed, and in retrospect, I am not quite sure how I managed it.

There was a mom and her barely two-year-old at the store today, waiting for a dressing room.

Baby: "Where Greg? Want Greg!"

She calls for Greg repeatedly in a little falsetto voice, like she is calling a cat.

Mom: "Greg is Daddy, sweetie! Say Daddy!"

Baby: "Daddy Greg!" And she laughs hysterically.

Mom: "You are so silly baby!" And I hear the sounds of her laughing and covering her little girl with kisses and raspberries, while the little girl squeals and giggles and squirms.

And I can't help thinking, "What if this never happens for me?"

They are so happy, so natural, and they make it look so easy. And for me, it is just so NOT easy.

In slightly more bizarre news, I was teaching a class of 6th graders yesterday, and we were discussing Velcro. I mentioned that it was about 25 years old, and it had been invented when I was a little girl. There's one boy in this class who is a foot taller than everyone else, and he raised his hand, and asked, "How old are you?"

I don't mind revealing my age, especially when it's a kid who asks. The look of horror and disbelief on his face when I said, "thirty-two" was downright hilarious.
I choose not to consider why he reacted this way, because any conclusion that I might leap to would be disturbing.

For example, I might be older than his mom.

SEE BRAIN? That's why you just don't want to go there!

I have a ton of "classic" prego symptoms right now, but I know it's just the wretched progesterone making its presence known. TMI warning- I was putting on my bra today, and caught a glimpse of the girls and um...they look weird. But once again, I get that "Whose breasts are THESE?!!" moments pretty much every month.

In other news of the weird:

We have a Siamese-mix neutered male cat named Tiramisu, and he is basically a curmudgeon. He's cranky. He's whiny. He doesn't like to be picked up or held, and he sleeps 95% of the time on "his" chair in the living room.

During the 2ww, he won't leave me alone. He is all snuggly, he wants to be with me all the time. And when I pet him, he purrs like a motorboat.

He was like this last cycle too, and I tried explaining it to The Man, who essentially thought I was out of my mind until he witnessed the random love-fest and the kneading and the purring and the attempted kitty kisses this month.

I am wondering if the injectables are making me smell different, or if I am slowly going crazy....or maybe our cat is manic-depressive. If the pattern continues, when AF begins to arrive, he will go back to his crotchety old ways again!

By the way...I have noticed my number of readers going steadily up, and I am extremely flattered by all your thoughtful comments and the way my sitemeter map is filling up. Thanks so much- It's so good to know that we aren't all in this alone!

If you read this blog and aren't listed on my sidebar, please drop me a comment so I can add your blog to my reading list! (Of course, feel free to leave a comment if you ARE listed on my sidebar too! I love all you guys.)

The Legend of the Fount of Fertility

Once upon a time (about two weeks ago) a childless woman in her early thirties started a new part-time job.

In *gasp* RETAIL.

Sadly, this employment did not pay well, but it offered a great employee discount, and cute clothes. Also, it was close to my her house.

Everyone felt that this was a great idea, including the woman's husband, who felt that she needed to be "kept busy", and her mother, who was heard to make the comment, "You need some distraction so you stop dwelling on ...you know...THINGS so much!"

The woman, being a good daughter, did not bang the phone repeatedly against the wall and hang up.

And as it turns out, she was pretty good at selling new bras and jeans to women who desperately needed them, even when said items were not on sale. While her feet hurt, and she reluctantly had to trade in her leopard print peep-toe platform heels for leopard print ballet flats, she decided it was all worth it.

As it goes, when you are the new girl at work, people are hesitant around you for awhile. You know that they are getting used to you when they start dropping the occasional f-bomb and asking you about your pets.

Last night was that night, and she OH SCREW IT...I was asked the dreaded, "So do you have kids?"

I said something along the lines of, "No, not yet...hopefully soon."

They laughed and said, "Have you been drinking out of the water fountain?"

Um, yeah, I have been drinking out of the water fountain. My throat gets very dry trying to explain to women why they will look better if they would just hike their boobs up off their mid-sections.

"Of course, I drink out of the water fountain!" (Shit! Is it contaminated with heavy metals or something?)

"Well, then you'll probably be next. Five girls who were working here in the last year have gotten pregnant. We think it's the water."

Hello, nurse!

Seriously, I am considering taking water bottles in there with me tonight. Screw the Gonal-F. I'm going to get knocked up by drinking out of the water fountain.

Just think of the money I'll save!

Anyway, I returned to reality, and both of the girls I had been talking to were looking at me in that way where you know they think you're just a liiiiiiiiittle insane. Oops.

They may not be far wrong. I'm not kidding. I am going to be drinking that stuff like a camel.

Sorry I haven't been around. I have been on my busy 20 hour-a-day progesterone-induced sleep schedule. I occasionally wake up to eat cookies, and then I pass out again. If I'm not moving, I fall asleep; it's like I'm narcoleptic. I was ok last week, but this week has been ridiculous.

My body has also been changing shape on a daily basis. I have stopped weighing myself- because it is torture. As long as my jeans still fit, everything is cool. I just have to shake the feeling that I am slowly turning into an amoeba.

The Man: Hey! Your waist is back today!

Me: I know! I threw a welcome back party for it.

The Man: Wooohooo!

Me: By the way, you might want to take a picture of it. It's not going to be around for long- the party involved cookies.

The Man: I think we can consider that collateral damage.

Me: Cool.

By the way, please pray (or chant, or burn sage...I'm totally not picky) for me. I am going to a 2-year-old's birthday party tomorrow, at the behest of a single friend.

She begged, because she will be the only adult there who doesn't have a child or belong to Mommy-and-Me. Also, the mother of the two-year-old is prego, and isn't particularly thrilled about it.

I know it sounds like a recipe for disaster. However, this friend went with me to my sister's Nightmare San Francisco Pretentious Lawyer Drunk-Ass Disco Debacle 30th birthday party.

(Doesn't it sound like fun? Don't you wish you were there? As soon as sis was too drunk to notice, we snuck off to 80's flashback goth night, where we had a lot more fun).

Suffice it to say, I owe her big time, so I am going.

I bought a Little People Fire Engine and the expansion People Pack, featuring Fireman Jose (who has a highly entertaining handlebar moustache) and his Trusty Dalmatian, Freckles.

There had damn well better be cupcakes.

Well...

We're officially entering the world of injectables. Part of me is a little upset that I am not more upset about not getting pregnant this month. Is that weird?

The test yesterday morning seemed ridiculously anti-climactic. I called the clinic to report my negative.

They told me to discontinue my progesterone (Yes! Yes!) and call back on Day One.

So I went out and had sushi and an alcoholic beverage. Because hey, that is my silver lining. Well, that and not having to load up the progesterone suppositories every night.

I questioned the RN over the phone re: dollar amounts, because of course, our insurance doesn't cover injectables.

Evidently we have two choices- one online pharmacy offers a discount price each month, and the other has a "buy two months, get one free" plan.

I forced myself not to say, "So...one plan for the optimist, one for the pessimist!" because these people already think I am a little nuts.

Possibly because last time, when they were explaining about my endometrial lining, I interrupted them to say, "So basically, it's like a happy little waterbed in there."

You know, as opposed to the Gobi Desert. Or the Louvre.

And now I am picturing my interior regions furnished with a round red velvet bed, a white sheepskin rug, a leopard chaise longue, and a disco ball. And also a really large stereo system. Because hey, my uterus likes to party like it's 1979.

Oh, and when they gave me my last ultrasound, and found that my left ovary had three follicles and the right NONE for the second month in a row, the ultrasound tech may have heard me accuse my right ovary of "not earning its keep". I also may have threatened to have it evicted, although I did not verbalize the "It's my body, and I make the rules" lecture that was brewing inside my head.

Oh God, they must think I'm insane.

So now I am agonizing over which plan to choose. The Man just wanted dollar amounts, and he was obviously not helping, so I called my best friend for her take on things.

"Well, here's what I think. If you go with the 'buy two months get one free' plan...."

"Yes?" I prompted.

"Well, you would probably get pregnant on the first cycle. I think you should go with that one."

Yes, this is why she is my friend. She just gets me.

Ok, I am now officially up and around. I have a huge to-do list, and since I seem to have finally trancended my progesterone coma, I have to get to the gym and work off the results of a month of obsessive ice cream and chocolate consumption.

Keep on keepin' on

Tomorrow (well, technically today) is pregnancy test day.

I know I haven't been around..things have been better this cycle with regards to my emtional stability, but that may be because I seem to be asleep 90% of the time.

Seriously. It's like I have progesterone-induced narcolepsy. I will sit down to watch TV and read a book, and that's all she wrote. The Man keeps discovering me curled up in what he calls my "nests" throughout the house.

So if you have been wondering, that's where I have been. Sleeping. And eating ice cream.

I wish I could say I have high hopes for this cycle, but last month's emotional smackdown is evidently still in effect. I haven't even googled "early pregnancy symptoms" yet.

Plus, I don't "feel pregnant", not that I know what pregnant feels like.

I just have that feeling that my period is going to start, and I am dreading it, mainly because last month's was absolutely horrific, to the point that I was hyper-ventilating in the bathroom, because I seriously thought I was having a miscarriage.

I asked the RN at the RE's office about it, and she basically said it was thanks to my three follicles. Maybe I should be happy that my left ovary does all the work every cycle, and my right ovary is just phoning it in?

Huh. Alright...test tomorrow! Here's hoping that I flunk with flying colors (preferably double pink lines.)