Oh, yeah! THE BLOG.

Things went from regular to batshit crazy so fast around here, I can’t even tell you. I applied for a job, had an interview, and started within three days. So while I spin from that news, here is what I’ve been forgetting to post latley:

Pictures!

Me and Mom at Thanksgiving:

My nephew and his cousin (my babymama’s baby):

The boys, looking dorky while they fried turkeys:

The next day, decorating our little tree:

Then, craft day with my mom and sister. We made thread trees, they were a hit:

Then, decorating the mantel, my favorite part:

And making the famous Icebox Cake, always a hit:

Oh, right! My barren womb!

Sometimes I forget that I am supposed to be keeping people updated on my baby situation.

Update: womb still barren.

No, seriously, you guys! Infertility is serious! The serious news is that we are waiting for the right number of days to pass before my babymama can take a test and determine if the second insemination worked or not. So really, this is the lamest update yet because there is no update.

I’m much more nervous this time. B has the date we are supposed to test front and center in his mind, but I purposely have blocked it out, making it fuzzy so I can’t fixate. Because really? Either she already is or already isn’t, so focusing on the date we will know that doesn’t really help biology.

Meanwhile roughly (and this really is just a rough number) 4 out 5 people on my Twitter feed are pregnant. Which is lovely, I really never begrudge anyone the miracle of life. Yet, I do claim the right to tell you in an honest way that IT SUCKS to read about how @chickidon’tevenknow is soooo hungry lol.

Sometimes I catch a hint of this anger, the screaming unjustness of it all, and I have to swallow it back. I was doing some research the other day and one of the books I came across was a prayer book for infertile people, with different questions to ask God. One of them was whether or not God has cursed women who can’t have babies, or if past sin has prevented them from the blessing.

I don’t think I have to tell you how much this pissed me off, but I’m going to go ahead and take a STAB at it.

Everywhere I look there are pregnant people, and I would say that less than forty percent of those people are people equipped to handle a baby. Fucking teenagers, cracked out druggies, people who already have more kids than they can handle, etc. These people are better than me, in God’s eyes? My God doesn’t roll like that, and neither do I.

I’ve done things wrong, I have. I’ve broken a heart. I’ve lied. But I take Starbucks to the road construction crews every winter too, and I always put my shopping cart in the designated return cart area instead of leaving it the parking lot like a total dick. So I really, REALLY would appreciate it Mrs. Judgy McGoderson and her fucking low rent Amazon prayer book would back the shit out of my barren womb.

Ahem. Back to chocking back the anger! Do you see what I mean? Under the surface is this simmer, and I worry, I worry, I worry. I worry that I don’t have the fortitude for this fight. I worry that I am wasting my life fighting. Living in this in between world is not for the faint of heart, it is hard and it is always present, and it is a hollow, knocking feeling, like my heart is a pair of tennis shoes in a dryer.

I always remind myself that things could be worse, and they could. Such terrible things happen every day. But living your life being grateful that your suck is less than the national level of suck is no way to live either.

And since I’m baring my soul here, I’m scared. I’m scared that I will end up like Aunt Glady’s from Home for the Holidays, alone and batshit crazy and a burden to everyone and trying to give away lamp shades. We live in a society where on some level, people believe that there is something wrong with people that don’t have children. That’s just the truth. And I think some women just decide not to fight it, the stigma. They wave a white flag and get a bunch of animals so that they have something to love, and then they slowly retreat out of sight.

And then, the end of this post. In which I tell myself and therefore you that I believe we will have a baby, even if I don’t know how she will get here. If I pray for anything tonight, it won’t be to ask God to forgive me of the sins that caused my infertility, it will be for the courage to wait for the baby that I know is coming. That is how you keep the faith.

Bloggers! Cookies! Interviews!

As you may remember, Neil Kramer, of Citizen of the Month, relaunched the Great Interview Experiment, which asks, “”Wouldn’t it be cool, if for one day, we really did believe that everyone really did have an important story to tell online?” All of us that put our name in were given a blogger to interview and a blogger that would interview us.

I was interviewed by Carmen of Mom to the Screaming Masses, and then I interviewed Natalie of Midlife Natalie. Then, the person who was supposed to interview Carmen never followed through, which is totally their loss because learning more about her has been a highlight of my month. I offered to take over the interview and, well, here you go:

1. So, six kids! Was that always the plan?

Well, yes and no. According to my husband, I told him that I wanted a big family right after we got married. I don’t remember or believe it. I love kids, though, and so it just seemed like a good fit. I have two sisters and my mom did day care, so there were always about 8 kids around. It was a lot of fun. I wish, though, that someone had told me two VERY important facts about big families: how much time I’d spend at the doctor’s office, and how much STUFF there would be strewn around my house on a daily – make that hourly – basis. I can’t tell you how much stuff I toss away, just because I’m tired of telling them to pick it up.

2. In your “100 Things About Me” list you mention the big tattoo on your back. What is it? Did you ever get another one?

It’s on the bottom half of my back – an area that my lovely niece has so eloquently reminded everyone in my family is a tramp stamp. The middle is an Irish Trinity Knot, for my Irish heritage, and from hip to hip is Ivy (for fidelity) and four pink flowers (for 4 girls children) and two blue flowers (for 2 boys). I have another tattoo – 7 pink hearts on my neck – and I’m planning a third to cover a large scar from melanoma on my arm. I don’t know what it will be, though.

3. You also mention that you read magazines front to back. Which ones?

No, I read them back to front. Just about every magazine I get – except for Real Simple, because, thanks to the cheat sheet that they put in the back, it’d spoil the entire thing. I’m a big magazine junkie – it’s a big bone of contention between me and my husband. I really like Women’s Health, Shape, Prevention, Redbook, Cosmopolitan, and probably a bunch of others that I’ve forgotten.

4. What is the number one lesson that you have learned from weight loss?

That it never, ever, ever stops. I thought that once I lost weight, it’d be over and done and I could just move on to the next thing. But there is no next thing. Weight loss is tough, but maintenance is even more difficult. It goes on forever.

5. You are a pretty prolific blogger. Where do you gather inspiration?

I spend a lot of time online, looking at other blogs and reading Twitter and Facebook. I also talk a lot, read more than that, and have a VERY active imagination and mind that just.never.shuts.up.or.off

6. Name the first five places you visit when you log on.

Facebook, Twitter, Blogher, Gmail and a handful of blogs. There’s not one that comes out ahead of any other.

7. What is your favorite part of Love, Actually?

I love the scenes between the porn stars, where they are getting to know each other with social small talk while simulating sex acts. My favorite scene, though, would have to be at the end, when you see everyone’s story lines wrapped up in the airport. That scene is equal to Keira Knightley opening the door to find Andrew Lincoln holding a set of cards proclaiming his love for her. The entire movie amazes me and there is so much to enjoy that I never grow tired of it.

8. What does a typical day look like for you?

I wrote a little about a typical day here. But, really, no day is typical. I spend a lot of time online, cooking and doing laundry, and those are the only two constants in my days.

9. If you were trapped somewhere for a long time, would you rather have a book, television, or Twitter?

A good book. My favorite series is Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. I have read the entire series at least 10 times and never ever grow tired of it. If I couldn’t pick a book, it’s probably be Twitter.

10. You mention that the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe has been elusive. Any progress?

Yup. I found the best cookies ever. The recipe came from the New York Times. It’s a fussy recipe, requiring that it be chilled for 24 hours before baking – and I struggle here, because I can avoid the baked cookies easily, but the dough gets me every.single.time. I also don’t worry about using the disks that the recipe calls for, but I break up one Ghiradelli 60% dark chocolate bar into chunks and use half a bag of milk chocolate chips and then a 1/4 bag each of dark chocolate chips and 1/4 bag of semi sweet chocolate chunks. I think that the sea salt and the mix of chocolates, as well as the refrigeration, are what makes the cookies.

New York Times Chocolate Chip Cookies
Adapted from Jacques Torres

2 cups minus 2 tablespoons (8 1/2 ounces) cake flour
1 2/3 cups (8 1/2 ounces) bread flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt
2 1/2 sticks (1 1/4 cups) unsalted butter
1 1/4 cups (10 ounces) light brown sugar
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (8 ounces) granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons natural vanilla extract
1 1/4 pounds bittersweet chocolate disks or fèves, at least 60 percent cacao content (see note)
Sea salt (your best)

1. Sift flours, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a bowl. Set aside.
2. Using a mixer fitted with paddle attachment, cream butter and sugars together until very light, about 5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla. Reduce speed to low, add dry ingredients and mix until just combined, 5 to 10 seconds. Drop chocolate pieces in and incorporate them without breaking them. Press plastic wrap against dough and refrigerate for 24 to 36 hours. Dough may be used in batches, and can be refrigerated for up to 72 hours.
3. When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a nonstick baking mat. Set aside.
4. Scoop 6 3 1/2-ounce mounds of dough (the size of generous golf balls) onto baking sheet, making sure to turn horizontally any chocolate pieces that are poking up; it will make for a more attractive cookie. Sprinkle lightly with sea salt and bake until golden brown but still soft, 18 to 20 minutes. Transfer sheet to a wire rack for 10 minutes, then slip cookies onto another rack to cool a bit more. Repeat with remaining dough, or reserve dough, refrigerated, for baking remaining batches the next day.

***

So there you have, it you guys. An introduction to a fun new blogger, and a chocolate chip cookie recipe. I’ve made them, so I can vouch for their perfectness.

Like I’ve said before, I’m a giver!

Embarrased

When I was a sophomore I was in love with a boy a year older than me, and he was a twin. We went out for a while, but then his stupid desire to like, “see the world” won over, and he was soon off to live in Brazil as a foreign exchange student.

I was all kinds of devastated, so I did the obvious thing and started dating his twin. His twin was not quite as cute, not quite as outgoing, but he had two things going for him: he had shared a womb with the boy I loved, and he was in love with me. Like, foolishly in love with me. I feel terrible about the whole affair now, really, but that is for another day.

So it was the first night we were going out on a real date. I was all done up and ready to go, and he was late. I kept walking up to the door and looking outside, expecting him to be there any minute. An hour later, and I was Pissy McFumerson. I called The Best Friend, and was like, “Woe, woe, woe, dire, dire, woe, what should I do?” and she suggested actually calling him to see where he was. This was before cell phones, so I called his house and got his answering machine and didn’t leave a message. For whatever reason, just hearing the stupid answering machine message made me more angry, so I called The Best Friend back and didn’t really even let her say hello before I launched into a tirade that was something like this:

“Who the HELL does he think he is? What the FUCK is he doing? HE IS TWO HOURS LATE RIGHT NOW. What a DICK. I should have have known he would be like this, he probably knows deep down inside that it’s his brother that I love and he is doing this to get back at me. Well! WELL! He is stupid! And UGLY. And I hate his ASS FACE. And I’m pretty sure I caught of whiff of bad breath when he asked me out. SICK. Like, brush your teeth LOSER!”

Then there was a really long BEEEEEEEP.

“Do you have another call?” I asked The Best Friend.

“No, do you?”

“No!”

“That sounded like . . . “

“NO!”

“I think it was the . . . “

“DON’T SAY IT!”

“Dude. That was the fucking answering machine beep.”

See, it was back in the day of three-party calls. Remember those? When you called Friend A and then “hung up” and called Friend B and “hung up” and then you were all magically connected?

I had basically hung up when the answering machine picked up and in my huff, called The Best Friend, therefore connecting us and recording my entire sixteen year old bitchy teenager rant.

Oh. My. God.

There was nothing I could do. I mean, it was on his parents answering machine. I didn’t even know where he was.

So about five minutes later, he pulls up. His hair is disheveled, he face and hands are dirty, he has no jacket on, and he is apologizing profusely. He got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere and had never changed a tire before and had to do it in the dark.

Just when I thought I couldn’t be a bigger asshole, right? I mean, the least he could have been doing was a bunch of hookers and some blow or something, so that my angst had some justification.

So I’m like, “Oh, your poor thing! It’s ok, come in, get a glass of water*, and hey! Why don’t you call and erase your messages because I had a private conversation on your answering machine by accident, and it was PRIVATE, and I don’t want you to hear the things I said, so can you just be nice boy and erase it? Or punch in your code and let me erase it?”

He agreed to do it, and I was so happy. I was just breathlessly waiting for him while he called his answering machine and then his mom answered. I could only hear his end of the conversation which was, “What? Really?”

Fuck.

So yeah, his parents heard the message. They played it a lot. I was totally the butt of the joke. He still wanted to date me (yikes!) but the twin, the one I loved, was not so enamored. What was the point anyway? I wouldn’t have ever been able to show my face in front of those people.

*As I tell this story I don’t know where my parents or his parents were. I mean, my parents were never gone, and this story all plays out like a Gossip Girl sequence or something, wherein there are no adults and we are pouring ourselves a drink of brandy from the crystal decanter on the sidebar. I assure you, my parents were lurking around somewhere. HANGING THEIR HEADS IN SHAME, no doubt.

Freaking out

So, my phone says its the 29th. One more day of NaBloPoMo, right? But my blog says today is the 30th. So I go back and it says I started on Nov. 2nd. But my blog is a big fat liar, because today is the 29th not the 30th and I started this thing on the 1st not the 2nd.

So I know, I know, no blog police exist, but people. PEOPLE. I worked my ass off to blog 30 days in a row, I will not be stopped by a wonky internal wordpress clock.

How do I fix it?

Edited to add: So my time was all wrong in the settings, it was ahead 8 hours. I fixed it, but apparently it doesn’t go back. LAME.

Meet Natalie

The idea behind The Great Interview Experiment is that everyone has a story to tell, and the blogger I interviewed really reinforced that idea. Midlife Natalie is a woman starting over, both with a new blog and a new life. I will let her tell you a little bit more.

1. Your blog is a new blog that you have decided to begin keeping after a major life change: coming out to your husband and family, getting a divorce and moving into a new apartment. This takes bravery most of us can’t imagine. Now that some dust has settled, how do you feel about where you are now?

Some days I am completely fine with where I am now, and other days I wonder if I am making a mistake. Most of the time I know that I am doing the right thing. I know that if I were to backtrack and change my mind that I would regret it. I have come so far. Then there are days…well not really days…just moments…where I wonder if I am crazy. I had a husband, four kids, a great family, and I gave it up. I know I still have kids and a family, but the dynamic of it all has certainly changed. Then something happens to remind me that I am where I am because I couldn’t handle being where I was any longer. I’ve read blogs by people who have done a similar thing and see how at peace they are now after living through the struggle. I look forward to the day I can look back at the bumps in the road and see how far I’ve come.

2. Will you share this blog with the readers of your previous blog, or are you looking for a different audience?

I don’t plan to share this blog with my family or any of my friends from my old church. They all had access to the old blog. In order to feel like I can say what I want to say…what I need to say…I feel like I need to keep it from them. There are too many things that would be painful for them to read I think. I have shared it with some of my regular readers who I don’t know in real life. They were fairly safe. So far everyone online has been completely supportive.

3. What are your top five favorite songs?

Oh…I have a hard time choosing favorites! I suck at making choices. I do love Wild Horses by Natasha Bedingfield, Kiss that Counted by Catie Curtis, Magic by Colbie Caillat, Least Complicated by Indigo Girls, and anything by Little Big Town.

4. You recently wrote about having time alone for the first time in years. What is your perfect idea of how to spend that time?

It has been quite interesting having so much time alone. The thing is the time comes in little snippets so there really isn’t much time to actually do anything. I am usually preparing to get kids or go be with the kids or getting ready for work or bed or something. I had a whole weekend to myself back in February. I didn’t turn on the TV or listen to any music. I left the house once for donuts and take out sushi. I blogged, slept, and read. I think I would choose to do those same things given another weekend alone. I loved it!

5. What is something that you wish the people around you would have said or done to help you when you made the choice to come out?

Another hard question. I think everyone did pretty much what I expected them to do. I don’t think I would have wanted them to react differently. If my parents had just been ok with my decision I think I would have been disappointed. I know that sounds strange, but by worrying and being disappointed they made me feel loved. I truly hope that one day they will be able to accept it, but to see them struggle with it means that they love me and want what’s best for me. They worry that I am making a mistake that I’ll regret. The other day I asked my dad if he wanted to see my apartment. He said he wasn’t quite ready to do that. I was glad that he was honest. He may not be ready to see my apartment, but he still loves me. I have no doubt about that. I haven’t spoken to my siblings in a few months. I know that my sister has made the decision to not talk to me. I’m not sure what my brothers plan to do. I am just taking one day at a time.

6. Are you a dog person or a cat person?

You know…I have to say cat person. I’m sure I could find a dog I like, but I much prefer the idea of an animal that can take care of itself a little.

7. What book or books have made a difference in your life?

I can’t really say that a book has made a difference in my life. Years ago I might have said a book by Francine Rivers called A Voice in the Wind. It reminded me that I could pray without ceasing. I could always say the bible. It was a huge part of who I was. I guess it still is. I loved parts of the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It made me think about what I could do if I just set my mind to it. I might not know what’s around the next corner, but I can adapt to what life hands me. I am an avid children’s book reader. I absolutely love children’s literature. I don’t know how much of a difference it’s made in my life, but the children’s section is the first place you should look if you want to find me in a bookstore.

8. What are you most proud of?

Wow. I’m not even sure how to answer this question. It’s really hard for me to use that word…proud. I know you don’t mean it in a prideful way, but I still have a hard time with it. I think I would say that I am thankful I got to spend 7 years living in another country. It changed me. I was stripped of everything but my family, and I survived it. I even thrived for a while. By taking that step…moving to a place I knew nothing about…I was able to eat with Iranian refugees on the floor of their apartment. I saw ancient history in my backyard. I learned to cook from scratch. I learned how to communicate in another language. I did so many things that I would never have had a chance to experience here in the states. I am thankful for it all. It has made me a better person.

9. Team Edward or Team Jacob or Team I Hate Twilight?

Funny question! If you hadn’t put Team I Hate Twilight I wouldn’t have know what you were talking about. I guess I would have to say that I’m a “Team I Don’t Know Enough About Twilight To Make An Informed Decision On Who I Like Best.”

10. If you could be on any reality show, which one would it be and why?

You know I think I might want to be on Dancing With The Stars. Of course I would have to be a star to be allowed on the show. I just like the idea of learning all those dances. I also think I would like Survivor. I am not a manipulator nor do I think I am competitive enough, but I think I would like the challenge of survival.

****

Three cheers for courage, Natalie, and best of luck to you!

Someone shit in my water

I feel like I imagine Nic Cage felt in Leaving Las Vegas, and I haven’t had a drop of alcohol. It’s all the food, a total food hangover. Am I getting old? My body is furious with me that I have had so much refined sugar and salt and fat. My fingers are swollen, my stomach is bloated, my skin is dry and I’m so effing thirsty that I’ve been pounding glasses of water all day. Well, until I got the emergency notice from the water department that there is E coli in the water and all residents should boil water for one minute before drinking it.

Yep. There is shit in my water. Someone shit in my water.

Isn’t that so rude?

Home for the Holidays

Thanksgiving #2 is over. There was a fire, with shooting flames. And a split head with bloody hair. And I said “rat dick” at the table to people I have never seen before. I ate a respectable amount and was smug about it and then went back and ate so much I was sick. I snuggled babies, and laughed with friends, and did dishes with my babymama. The Nanaimo bars were a hit, and so was the lemon pie. I used all my china and silverware. I snuggled with my parents dog and let him lick my ears. I slumped over into B’s long hug in the hallway. There was a Brit there, and we had a good laugh offering him some “hof and hof” for his coffee. I was the DJ for musical chairs with the kids. I rolled my eyes at irritating people. There was a girl there in a dress so small I wouldn’t have been able to use it as a spanx substitute. My back hurts from the wood chairs. I sweat in the kitchen making green beans, reaching over my mother who was making the gravy. My sister messed up the sweet potatoes. The kids didn’t eat dinner because they had so many sweets. The boys tried to stream the Blazer game. Once, for just a second, I wished that I smoked again so I could have just one cigarette. I ate more when I packed up the food. I kissed my dad goodbye on the cheek and was thankful, so thankful, for another holiday with him. I drove home to the sound of the Blazer game. I took a hot bath and read a good book. I got straight in bed with ice water and put in “Home For the Holidays”.

It was everything I had hoped it would be.

Thankful

I am in a food haze right now, nodding off in front of the computer but not willing to give up NaBloPoMo so close to the end.

Tonight I just want to say that I’m thankful for my little life. We are struggling with some things, but we are warm, cozy, and full. I have dogs snuggling on my lap, a husband laughing his silly laugh next to me, and an internet connection that has allowed me to meet some fantastic people. I had a Thanksgiving today full of people that I love, and another one tomorrow. I have a lot to be thankful for.

And now, even though I am not remotely hungry, I am going to eat more stuffing and pie. It’s tradition.

Because nothing says “Thanksgiving” like searching for an English custard to make a Canadian dessert

I spent the better part of this day searching for Bird’s Custard. Bird’s Custard is an English thing, an essential ingredient to my favorite Canadian treat, Nanaimo Bars. There are lots of impostor bars out there, but I have the recipe that my Grandma used to make, and she is Canadian and has actually been to Nanaimo. THAT recipe calls for Bird’s Custard, but apparently no one in America cares about my authentic dish.

I went to six different grocery stores and when they didn’t have it I called about ten others. Calling was extra special because I had to spell “bird” each time because no one knew what I was talking about. I talked to some super nice people though, a few of them even put me through to the buyers who googled the custard and tried to come up with alternatives.

I was completely exhausted and only cooked one thing from my long list when I remembered Whole Foods. OF COURSE! Whole Foods! So when I call I go through the whole spelling thing and then I get the buyer on the line and he says that they do not have Bird’s Custard but they have a similar product that will work. Even though it goes against all that I believe in, I get the name of said similar product because really? This has gone on long enough.

I drive all the way to Whole Foods, and by this time it’s dark out, that is how long this obsession has taken. I am actually sweaty even, from running around all day. I burst into the baking section, scan the shelves and do you know what the “similar product” was? VANILLA FUCKING PUDDING.

Hey, world-traveler Whole Foods buyer guy? Guess where else they have vanilla pudding? ALBERTSONS. If I was looking for vanilla pudding, I would have just gone ahead and picked that up six stores ago.

I had to just buy it though, because Thanksgiving is tomorrow and Whole Foods had me by the balls. So I stopped and bought some bubble bath called “Tranquility” on the way out, and called my mom and told her I was making the Nanaimo Bars without the fucking Bird’s Custard and not only is she going to eat them, she is going to love them.