It hasn't been my day, my week or even my month

You know the saying "that ship has sailed"? Not only has my ship set sail, I've been doing everything I can to keep the sinking ship that is my current life afloat.

The first thing to sink to the bottom of the ocean is my chance for the 2019 Mother of the Year award.

I've had to get blood work every few days for almost two weeks and I've had to take AB with me every time. We were sitting in the quiet waiting room and she was telling an endless story about her toothbrush. I shouldn't be surprised when her stories go on fifteen times longer than necessary. She has me for a mother. Tree, meet your apple. Honestly my mind was wondering but it got jerked back to reality quickly when she said, "I was looking for the toothpaste so I looked under the sink. I found some medicine but I thought it was toothpaste so I took the cover off and tasted it. It wasn't toothpaste. I think it was medicine." I was mortified.

I have made it a main mission in life to keep her from putting the wrong things in her mouth. The quarter swallowing incident of 2018 was too costly to be repeated. At least once a week we talk about what goes in her mouth and what doesn't. We've had several conversations about not taking medicine that I don't give her. Ninety-five percent of our medicine is locked up for foster care but somewhere along the line I threw the impetigo medicine under the sink. Again, the waiting room was VERY QUIET and she was not whispering as I had instructed. I swear everyone in the waiting room snapped their head in my direction and started judging the mom who leaves medicine out everywhere. She kept going. "I was like, no. This isn't the regular toothpaste! I think it's the hand, foot and mouth medicine. Isn't that funny?" Yes. It's hilarious.

If there was any chance left of me receiving Mom of the Year award based on my performance for the last several months, it is now long gone.


A few days ago I turned on my computer to finally do some blogging. Somehow, without my permission or desire, the computer did a factory reset and I lost everything. Every document. Every bookmark. Every school thing I hadn't backed up. All that was left a random collection of previously deleted things in the recycle bin. I have most of my photos on an external hard drive but I know I lost some. I haven't had the emotional capacity to look and see exactly what I lost.


Finally, between Christopher being rear-ended and the kitchen sink leaking, I got pregnant. It was much less of a unexpected surprise and more of a very planned event with Dr. John. I've had three years of secondary infertility and gone through my fair share of poking, prodding and very unpleasant appointments. We decided to do IUI in September. Christopher had to be at work during the procedure so I was impregnated by another man while my knowing husband was the next town over. Christopher does not find this as funny as I do, I have to find humor in the situation. Dr. John did his thing then I had to lay on the exam table for 15 minutes. He offered me magazines then asked if I wanted the lights off so I could take a nap. I love an unexpected nap so I agreed. He took my phone, put it on the counter where I couldn't reach it and said, "If I don't take your phone you'll get antsy and start twitting your friends." That right there is the kind of generational gap I need if I have to have a male doctor up in my business. I need a doctor who doesn't know that the correct word is "tweeting." Of course I started giggling even more because giggling is what I do at the doctors office. I really need to find a more adult way of dealing with nervous energy.

The two weeks between the procedure and the day I could take a test were very long. As soon as I took a positive test I went into panic/early nesting mode. I cleaned and organized more in the next week than I have since we moved in. I tried to do 500 days worth of projects in a week. I was sure the hyperemesis from AB's pregnancy was coming down the pike and I wanted this house whipped into shape before I was laid out for nine months. I never got any pregnancy exhaustion which really helped my mission. 

Sadly I think the pregnancy was doomed from the beginning. I had stomach and back pain from within 30 minutes of the IUI. I had several other issues which I won't describe in detail because as I said earlier, I don't know when to end a story. I earned my WebMD Masters degree during the short pregnancy. I googled more than I should have and one link for IUI side effects brought me to a site providing housing resources for aboriginal women. The internet is an odd place. Last Tuesday a nurse called and very unsympathetically told me all my numbers were lowering and "it wasn't going to work out so you can stop the progesterone." I had lots to do that afternoon but all I did was go home and lay down with my heating pad and cry while Annabelle watched too many shows. With every blood test the numbers went down and the same nurse would call to update me. I love the doctor but I want to put myself on that nurse's no-call list. She could have been sympathetic while still sharing the facts! Annabelle didn't understand what was happening. She kept asking, "When will you feel better? Is there a reason you're sick? Why do we keep going to the doctor?" We weren't planning on telling her until after my first appointment so I never said what the real problem was. By Thursday it became clear that the baby wasn't going to stick around and just like that it was all over. It was a very long and emotional month and I am SO TIRED.

It was too early to know the gender. but I wanted the baby to have a name. I think every person should have a name. Good gender-neutral names are hard to come by, but we settled on Elliot. It seems like the right one for our baby.

never say never

I am not a a sporty person. 

I love baseball and the Olympics but football, soccer and basketball could be banned and I'd never once miss them. I always assumed that I'd have children who played sports and I wasn't overly thrilled about it. It's not that I don't want to give my child the opportunity to excel in sports, it's just that I don't want to do all the driving and sitting through practices necessary for her to become proficient. I want the benefits and glory of an pro athlete child with the work of a 30-minute practice once a week. I have a feeling it doesn't work like that but come back in 15 years and we'll see if I succeeded. I wouldn't mind being a baseball mom, but soccer mom? Thanks but no thanks. Don't even come at me with your talk of me ever being a football mom. 

But as life goes, that which I don't want to be is what I have become- a soccer mom.

We missed the spring soccer signup but told AB she could do the fall season. She was thrilled and asked endlessly when soccer would start. I had to work the night of her first practice and I felt AWFUL about it. It seemed like a big moment in her life and I was missing it. Not to mention that it won't make me look good when she's giving an interview at the Olympics and mentions how her mom couldn't make it to the first practice. I'm very concerned about how her potential sports career will affect my comfort and reputation. 

The tides have turned in an unexpected direction. While I have no desire to watch adults play soccer, I have become a very enthusiastic sideline participant of kids soccer. I like to yell helpful advice from my blanket even though I know next to nothing about the sport. The Strikers are not an organized team and seldom have a clue what's going on, but they try. Antonio is off in the corner practicing is leaping skills. Robert can't decide if he is going to be a useful part of the team or a hindrance. Annabelle is too polite and doesn't want to get the ball from the opposing team, but she has lots of time to practice before the summer Olympics of 2036.