sueeeus

That was my favorite line I heard yesterday on TV. Heroes. I just love that Hiro character. He’s so adorable.

Today I’m on vacation. I’m up against another use-it-or-lose-it situation, and by golly, I’m going to use it. I know, it’s pathetic to have so much vacation time banked that it reaches the limit. I was saving it for extending maternity leave, but that’s not necessary anymore. I’m planning to take a week off in March, but my limit caps before then, so I have to take a little time now. It’s a good thing. I need some time to myself.

Speaking of planning for March vacation, I’ve worked myself into a near tizzy, contemplating and second guessing the scenarios. I’d like to go on a cruise to Alaska some day, but they don’t start until May, so that’s out. Perhaps we might plan one for September, when Mr. Gadget has his next vacation week reserved. I like the idea of a cruise because those cruise ships typically have all sorts of things to keep youngsters entertained. I would feel relatively safe taking my toddler on a cruise, although I’d likely be confined to quarters once he’s gone to sleep. Cruises cost a fortune, though, and whilst a Disney cruise or any tropical cruise might be great, I absolutely do not want to undergo a cross-country flight with a 2-yr old.

I suggested we stay home, continue dropping the little busy body off at daycare, and take advantage of the day time to do things we never get to do, like go to the movies or go try different restaurants for lunch. We could go play golf, even. I’d do it, just to enjoy the together time, even though it’s not my favorite thing to do. I’ve only been once, and it was fun. I guess my main hangup with it is the cost and making sure to keep the pace so as not to annoy the golfers ahead or behind. Mr. Gadget loves golf, but he wasn’t too enthused with my proposal. He likes the idea of going away. Anywhere, as long as it’s away. I find it a bit annoying. Away means planning, packing, travelling, meeting schedules, getting settled in strange accommodations, finding transportation, navigating in unfamiliar territory, spending a truckload of money, plus, keeping a 2-yr old content. This is no small thing.

He’d like to go to Reno, because his brother, Primo Gadget, lives within driving distance, and he’s not seen him in quite some time. I don’t mind the idea of seeing family. Mister Busy Body hasn’t met this uncle, and besides, PG has just recovered from throat cancer and it would be so great for MG to reunite with his brother. Reno is not too long of a flight, so we could manage that. The thing is, what is there to do with a 2-yr old in Reno We can go, and spend a thousand dollars for room and flight, plus whatever more it takes for dining and entertainment. PG and his wife (especially the wife) like the casino scene. It’s not for me. While I enjoy a nice glass of red wine with a meal on occasion, I am just not the drinking gambling type. Besides, one can’t take a toddler to a casino. If we go, I envision myself stuck in the hotel room for the evenings, while MG parties it up with his brother and SIL. MG wants to go for 4 days. PG would only be able to meet us for 2 days. That means we’d have two days to do what I asked MG to find out what there is to do in Reno. What does he do He finds flight/hotel packages. Frustrated, I remind him that I asked him to find out what there is to do in Reno. Everything, he replies. Like what Swimming pool, casino, golf. Right. He doesn’t seem to remember that we have a child. We might swim if there is a wading pool, but gambling and golf are out. There are plenty of things to do in Reno if I babysit while MG hangs out with his brother. That’s what’s getting me all worked up. I’m having a hard time figuring out how this will equate to a family vacation. It doesn’t sound like part of the family (the mom side) will be having much of a vacation. Mister Busy Body is just that; he’ll be curiously delving into anything and everything he can see and reach. It will make no difference to him whether he’s in Reno, Timbuktu, or our house. He’ll need to go to sleep around 8. Maybe I’ll take a good book and curl up and enjoy. A thousand dollar book reading getaway. Hooray.  Can’t wait.

There is a small dog at daycare named Ci-Ci. My son learned to say Ci-Ci quite some time ago, but he insists that all dogs are Ci-Ci! Ci-Ci means dog in toddlerese. And now, he has extended the definition a bit further.

I have a sweatshirt with a big applique of Eeyore on the front. (It was a hand-me-down, don’t worry.)

My son, pointing at Eeyore: “Ci-Ci!”

Me: “Eeyore”

My son: “Yee-oh”

Me: “Very good! You’re so smart! Eeyore!”

My son: “Ci-Ci!”

Me: “Eeyore!”

My son: “Ci-Ci!”

Me: “Eeyore!”

My son: “Ci-Ci!”

Me: “Eeyore!”

My son: “Ci-Ci!”

Me: “Eeyore!”

My son: “Ci-Ci!”

Me: “Eeyore!”

My son: “Ci-Ci!”

Me: “Eeyore!”

…and so on. He is adamant! He’s stated his position, and by golly, he’s going to stick with it! I can only imagine what I have in store.

Six Weird Things, tagged by suse, sort of.

(…perhaps not meant to be…)

I’ve started this post three times, and when I’ve gone to save my draft, gotten timed out, with all data lost. So much for this upgrade. Hrumph. Now I’m resorting to my desktop text editor to compose my draft, just so I don’t lose it again and again and again.

In the mean time, I will console myself that this is the reason I get so few comments. Because my server times out and comments are lost. Sniffle sniffle. I did take a quick look at stats just after I learned it was delurking week, and found that I actually have visitors from all over the planet! *Blush*
Okay. Six Weird Things.  Here goes.

1. Food. I tend to eat by category. Not always, but often. Sometimes by color, sometimes by item. If I have a stir fry, for example, I’ll pick out the meat or tofu bits. Then I’ll pick out the broccoli. Next the snap peas. And so on. Sometimes I’ll disassemble a sandwich and eat separately the cheese, the meat, the lettuce, and the bread. I think I do this because I can enjoy the individual flavors more. Perhaps.
2. Wetness. Although I always like to be clean, there are times when I don’t like to get wet. I can’t explain it very well, but sometimes I simply have an aversion to water on my skin.
3. Medical. I’m not sure if this is weird or just plain stupid, but I generally won’t go to the doctor unless I’m knocking on death’s door with severed limbs in tow. I even have excellent health insurance with only a $10 copay. I know. I should take advantage. But I don’t.
4. Communication. I *think* I generally have very good communication skills with most people, but I can’t for the life of me carry on a conversation with my husband without a misunderstanding of some sort. Ever.
5. Physique. I have tiny inner ears. It is very difficult to find earbud style headphones/headsets that I can wear.
6. Swimming. I love to swim, but (see 2) sometimes I don’t like to get wet. Also, in man-made venues such as swimming pools, hot tubs, and water parks, I can’t stand the thought of all the tiny little bits of who-knows-what that I see floating in the water (other people’s skin dander, snot, or even WORSE!), which will invariably be ingested in at least a small amount, no matter how hard I try to avoid it. In natural venues such as oceans, lakes, rivers, and ponds, I am terribly afraid of slimy wiggly things lurking in the depths (small or large or very very large, oh dear), in addition to the tiny little bits of who-knows-what that are floating in the water (slimy wiggly lurky creature’s excrements and such, eeeewwwww). So. Not much swimming for me, I’m afraid.

Although washing windows is a great skill to master in and of itself, let us not forget the importance of teaching our children how much fun it is to clean.

And when the cleaning fun is all over, there is time to climb on furniture, play, bat those long and beautiful eyelashes at your mother and show her just how adorable you are. After that, when you’ve fallen off the stool and gotten an owie on your bottom, you can snuggle with her and she will make you feel all comfy-womfy and make everything all better. Then you will forget and go back and do it again. And again. And maybe one more time.

My spirit breathes with yours
I have heard your call
I know your name
Fear not, and be at peace
Be strong, yes, be strong
For from the first moment
When you did set your heart
To understand
Your words were heard
I am come for your words
I hear you speak the words of a prophet
But do you know what you say
I hear you speak the same words
Over and over again
Your heart cries
Sentences only begun
And I, I know the answers
To the questions you ask
And you, you shall know the truth
And the truth shall make you free
How bold you are
To bare your heart to a grasping world
Who only wants more
When you’ve given it all
Not I, no, not I
When you seek to know the truth
With your heart
It will be found of you
And the truth will make you free
So be at peace, be comforted
Dear kindred spirit
You are not alone

–sueeeus, 1990s

Don’t believe what you hear
Don’t believe what you see
If you just close your eyes
You can feel the enemy
When I first met you girl
You had fire in your soul
What happened your face
Of melting in snow
Now it looks like this

And you can swallow
Or you can spit
You can throw it up
Or choke on it
And you can dream
So dream out loud
You know that your time is coming ’round
So don’t let the bastards grind you down

No, nothing makes sense
Nothing seems to fit
I know you’d hit out
If you only knew who to hit
And I’d join the movement
If there was one I could believe in
Yeah I’d break bread and wine
If there was a church I could receive in
’cause I need it now

To take a cup
To fill it up
To drink it slow
I can’t let you go
I must be an acrobat
To talk like this
And act like that
And you can dream
So dream out loud
And don’t let the bastards grind you down

Oh, it hurts baby
(What are we going to do now it’s all been said)
(No new ideas in the house and every book has been read)

And I must be an acrobat
To talk like this
And act like that
And you can dream
So dream out loud
And you can find
Your own way out
You can build
And I can will
And you can call
I can’t wait until
You can stash
And you can seize
In dreams begin
Responsibilities
And I can love
And I can love
And I know that the tide is turning ’round
So don’t let the bastards grind you down

Acrobat Lyrics
U2, Achtung Baby

Acrobat Painting
Sueeeus, 1993, Acrylic on artboard, 8.5″x11″

Here in the wide wild west
The good guys don’t wear black
People give their trust
To those who wear white hats

The masses with canine vision
Find those white capped ones
Placed high on mighty steeds;
And join them as they charge

Caught in panting fervor
They shout with unison
Hysteria in the stampede
They are solaced in the bond

I speak to you, O silent one
For I am silent too
Open your eyes, watch and learn
Never be afraid

Come and see what canine eyes
As yet can not perceive
Carry this brightness which pierces dark
And scatters the light of day

Know the enemy
For it is certain
That he indeed knows you
What tactics has he tried
Look for something new
Seek in the obvious places

They walk among the masses
Watching and learning
Seeming to belong
In all appearance true
What color are their hats
Be not deceived

But play the game
Open your eyes and learn the move
Go where you don’t belong
Hide among the wolves
Don’t let yourself be seen
They devour even their own

Things are not as they seem
I am wearing black
You won’t find me in the masses
I walk in desolate places
Among mottled faces, void of expression
Bobbing on an endless sea
Where the wild things roam

Yeah, our shoulders may even touch
But they will not see me
Nor can they harm me
I venture out into darkness
Following a beacon not discerned

And I, a chameleon in black
Will find my brothers
And clasp their hands as we pass by
Our eyes will meet only briefly
In this most dangerous place
For we must not be seen

But they will know who I am
And when our hands touch
I will give them of my brazen torch
And my chameleon cloak

We will wander the wilderness
Seeking other brethren
As the hidden flame burns brighter
Growing, kindling, strengthening
Waiting until that day
When it will burst forth in a mighty flash
Consuming all the darkness

Then the cloak I wear
Will no longer be shrouded in black
But the colors will shine in brilliance
And then will I don my hat
Ablaze in glorious white

I will raise my arm to my champion
My silent lips will open
And I will shout his victory cry

–sueeeus, 13 Feb 1993

Two years old!

Blowing out candles is oodles of fun!

So is chasing balloons.

My little big man is growing up so fast. Thirty seven and a half inches tall, and that many pounds as well. Such a boisterous big and beautiful boy, my Love Bug, Bugaboo, Boo Boy.  Happy birthday, my sweet pea prince.

Data and the analysis thereof puts the bread on the table in these parts. This data, however, is the ob-gyn sort. I know, who wants to read about such personal things This act of public journaling is somewhat stifling, in the sense of self-censorship. In a normal pen and ink journal I’d write away with abandon, and how liberating that is, by the way. With this thing called a blog… Well. I hesitate, just a bit. But there are things I want to say, so I will say them.

My post-op appointment went well. My doctor recommended abstinence* for a cycle, to allow the uterus to heal and strengthen. And should a cycle not return, an induction via progesterone. I’ve been down that path before. Following the next cycle, relations can resume, and if a natural cycle does not return within a reasonable time, then another round of Clomid. I’ve been down that path before as well. With all this focus on cycles or lack thereof, and the biological clock clanging away, I started reading up on ovulation predictor kits (OPKs), and was tempted to buy some. After considering the cost, I thought I’d try charting basal body temperature again. I found a year’s worth of data in my ob-gyn file. Sure, it was several years old, but it told the same old story. There is no rhyme or reason. No pattern. No predictability. So what good is bbt If the temperature rise tells you that you’ve just ovulated, then you’re already too late. I don’t see how that information is helpful to anybody unless they are regular as clockwork, so they can get a trend and have a good idea of when the fertile times are. I ordered a new thermometer anyway. In the interest of science. My data will likely be skewed, what with having to wrestle with the cpap mask in order to use the thermometer. As well, first thing in the morning for me doesn’t mean my body has been peacefully at rest for several hours. More like three hours, since there is a diaper changing stupor taking place somewhere between 2:30 and 3:30 a.m. Every. Single. Morning. ….yawwwwwwwnnnn…..

Of course there is a plethora of information on the internet, so I stumbled across the saliva testing method. I don’t know how this information slipped my mind. I’ve read all about it before. I even bought a lipstick style microscope, which was a fun gadget for about a week or so, but alas, it didn’t hold up to my overly aggressive focus or cleaning techniques. Or something. I thought I was onto something, though, so I bought a much bigger and stronger microscope, with removable slides on which to place the sample. I feel like such a scientist when I’m gazing through the eyepiece, scrutinizing the sample. It’s so very CSI. I refreshed my memory on the interpretation of the data, i.e., the fern crystal phenomenon and its relation to ovulation, then rifled through my cabinets in search of the microscope. Once found, I eagerly applied a sample and waited for it to dry. Voila! Crystals. Of course, I’d just eaten soup, and a bit more reading suggested that food, toothpaste, etc. can skew the data, therefore, it’s important to use fresh morning saliva. What a let-down, after being so excited to see those crystals. The next morning I dutifully licked a new slide and lo-and-behold, I found some crystals. The pattern would be what I’d call a transitional ferning pattern. It could mean that I’m entering a fertile period. Add to that Mr. Gadget’s sudden interest in getting cozy. Could I be emitting come-and-get-me pheromones He pretends to have a memory lapse regarding the doctor’s orders. I kindly remind him that this abstinence business is largely due to his attitude regarding latex. Hrumph says he. Hrumph say I. The next day I see more ferns. Still transitional, to my keen scientific eye. Today Today I see full on fern crystals. Add to that the sudden appearance of cm. It’s a banner day, and part of me wants to scrap the doctor’s orders and get down to business (because who knows when and if the next naturally fertile time will come ), but part of me is terrified of losing another baby, and that part wins. So I hold on to this data, and look at the brightest side. If in fact it is good data, it means that I should have a real, natural, non-progesterone-induced flow. And that is good news.

It’s a bit hard to express the feelings that this data gathering elicits. Or rather, explain the excitement. The thing is, there’s something about having a real, natural period that makes me feel alive, like I don’t have a bum model (…a lemon, so to speak) after all. Things are working. There is hope. If in fact I am ovulating, I should have a period, so I won’t have to take progesterone. And that pleases me much.  And if I don’t have to take the progesterone, maybe I won’t have to take the Clomid.  Maybe all systems are go, after all.  So there it is.  Hope.  A little bit of data, and suddenly I have hope again.  That is a very good thing.

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*Actually, barrier methods were recommended, but abstinence trumps latex, so abstinence it is.

There is seldom a time when there is daylight, snow, the lot of us home, and a sled on hand. Seizing the opportunity, we ventured out into the cold for a few minutes of fun. Look at that red nose! Yes, we all have the sniffles.

Noh! (Snow!) Words are flowing. Dooh! (Stool!) Doh! (Door!) Bab-bab! (Backpack!) Myeeoon! (Moon!) It’s a delight. He runs from room to room pointing at things and announcing them with great pride. He is so pleased with himself, my sweet little one.