There used to be a time when, if I found myself with $45 extra dollars, it would be $40 to um . . . “extra-curricular” stuff and $5 to cigarettes. Not so much anymore.
B was gone for twelve days recently, and I found myself with a lot of extra time and an extra $45. First of all, why is it that there is so much extra time when a husband is gone? I can see if it was kids, what with having to raise them and stuff, how them being gone would free you up. But husbands? Yet it is true. Perhaps because I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want, without the dreaded question of what is for dinner. Also there is the being able to look like Assy McAsserson all day. I mean, who cares if you skip the shower after the gym? Certainly not the dogs. (Oh my God, people! The dogs. Are killing me. More on that later.)
So back to the $45. Here is what I got:
1. Yarn (starting Christmas stuff already)
2. Ingredients for butternut squash curry soup (divine)
3. Movies (so far, major suckage)
4. Face mask, hair mask, body scrub (awesome, awesome, and awesome)
I know, right? Party at my place.
I am allowing myself the pure indulgence of not doing anything major for a couple of days because I just spent a long weekend at the farm that left me drooling I was so tired. My babymama is also out of town, and my sister and her husband babysat her kids for the week. So to recap: my nephews, ages 3 and 6, my babymama’s children ages 6 and 9 months, me, my two dogs, my sister, her husband, their dog, my mom, my dad, and their dog. In one house. Granted, it is a large house, but man. We took a lot of long walks down the country roads, wearing out the kids and the dogs. Then we made awesome dinners, fed them all, gave them all baths, put them to bed, and put in a movie that none of us could stay up for. Four kids, man. They will eat your soul.
So now I am at home, having spent my $45 on the above items, trying to relax. Because shit is about ready to start happening, and I’m terrified.
I’ve slowly been telling more and more people, and I am coming up against knowing how much to share. I am a chronic oversharer, obviously with the blog, right? But it seems different with people that aren’t blog readers, people that I used to know but don’t so much anymore. So when I am telling an old friend from high school and she asks if I will be using my egg, I flinch a little. Not for any reason other than: really? I haven’t seen you in five years, you’ve just found out that I cannot bear my own children, and you want to know her egg or mine? It seems so private. I don’t know, maybe it’s me, going back and forth between wanting to shout it out and wanting people to back up out of my uterus already.
Say it with me: Infertility, the gift that keeps giving.