Saturday, December 29, 2012

This One's For You, Anonymous.

Yeah, so it's maybe been a while.

I swear I've literally started at least 8 different posts (because apparently that's a lot) within the last couple months.  One was about things you should keep to yourdamnself when offering baby making advice/talking to someone with a broken baby maker. Another one was an enlightening self-help post listing the signs that you should probably lay off the cookies.  (She types as she shoves a fifth Lindor truffle in her face.)  One about all the things I plan to not do before I die - an anti-bucket list, if you will.  And then several others where I started bulleting out my really interesting life, only to realize I'd rather watch Netflix and take naps.  

Luckily for you, I'm caught up on just about every show I watch.  (We won't get into numbers.  But let's just say that if they made one of those "Check every TV show you've finished or are caught up on" survey doo hickies - like they do with the books - I'd kick everyone's butt.  Hard.)  So, as a belated Christmas gift, today you're getting bullet points - because they require somewhat less energy than imparting wisdom about how to avoid getting donkey kicked in the crotch by an infertile person.

And because I'm 100% positive this post will be toilet-read length, and not all you lazy sacks will want to read the whole thing - you get a table of contents.  You're welcome.

1. A Christmas Bullet Complete With Sub-Bullets
    (a) Epic Christmas Eve Jammies
    (b) Spoiled Christmas Surprises & Other Lame Presents
    (c) That Time WalMart Closed
    (d) The Most Random Gift on the Planet
    (e) Grandpa & Beef Sticks
2. How I Feel About Le Mis
3. More Wife Points
4. Blah Blah Blah Infertility Blah Blah Blah
5. Homeboy Got Some New Glasses
6. Long Hair & China Foreheads
7. Shawn's an Old Fart


Christmas was great, as usual.  I ended up only having to work two hours instead of ten, so I'm sure not complaining.  We did the obligatory pajamas on Christmas Eve with my family.  My parents gave me probably the best pajamas I've ever gotten in my entire 24 years of living.

Yeah, it doesn't get much more excellent than cheetah footie hoodies.  And Shawn is lying if he tells you it doesn't turn him on.  Those bad boys are baby makin' PJs.  He even got his own cheetah pants to match.  How can we go wrong?

Anyways, the rest of Christmas was good.  I didn't really get to surprise Shawn with his new iPhone 5, since he found the receipt for it on my work desk.  I had one of my signature meltdowns and hucked the gift at his face.  Classy wife points.  In his defense though, he wasn't trying to find it - he just did.  My favorite part of Christmas is surprising people with awesome stuff.  So Christmas morning, when Shawn opened up a toothbrush, a back scrubbing loofah, and $10 bucks worth of rolled pennies, it wasn't nearly as gratifying as watching him open a fancypants phone he's been whining about getting for months.  (Related: I've never felt more ridiculous as I did asking the bank for 20 rolls of pennies for my coin-collecting husband.)

And speaking of not surprising people on Christmas.  It was 1am on Christmas morning, and I had totally spaced stuffing Shawn's stocking (which sounds way more awkward than it should).  I had been putting it off because I hate shopping during Christmastime (well, and just shopping in general) - even if it's just for candy.  All the crowds and traffic give me anxiety.  Anyways, I decided that WalMart couldn't be that busy, and headed there.  Well, I was right - because WalMart was closed.  It felt like the freakin' apocalypse.  WalMart never closes.  That's like, their thing.   Luckily Walgreens took one for the team - and we went and bought a bunch of crap there.  In my cheetah outfit.  And it was awesome - well, minus the whole fact that Shawn watched me buy all his stocking stuff.  D'oh.

Though, Christmas wasn't completely void of surprises.  Shawn got me some shudders for the windows on the front of our house.      ......?

Shudders?  I don't mean to sound ungrateful - but what the hell am I going to do with shudders?  It's not even something we had ever talked about.  Holy random, Batman.  He insisted they'll make our house look a lot better... so, okay?  I had asked him for an electric razor, so I didn't have to use his to shave my dudestache (yeah, that happens) - but apparently shudders seemed like a more appropriate gift.  I think I'm going to wrap a box of tampons for him next year, just so I can see the same dumb llama look from him that I gave him when I saw the shudders.  And for the record, Shawn did give me plenty of great gifts that weren't shudders.

Also, one of my favorite moments from this Christmas was at our family Christmas party - when we were doing the infamous white elephant exchange, and my uncle got a beef stick.  When it was my aunt's turn to choose, someone suggested that she should steal the beef stick from her husband - and she responded with, "Nah, I'll get plenty of that beef stick tonight."  And, while that was funny, the even better part was watching my grandpa practically fall off his chair from laughing so hard.  It was totally a youhadtobethere moment - but it was seriously the best thing ever to watch my grandpa laugh so hard at something so inappropriate.  So, if I'm still laughing at farts and cracking "That's what she said" jokes when I'm older, I clearly come by it honestly.

We saw Le Miserables a week before it came out in theaters, and even though we walked in 15 minutes late - it was still a phenomenal movie.  Shawn about crapped his pants in the worst way (you know, as opposed to the good kind of crapping your pants) when he realized the entire movie was going to be a song - but he actually ended up really enjoying it.  I had never been too familiar with the actual storyline - but I knew the music.  So it was nice to finally figure out the context of all the songs.  So yeah, it was good - I'd definitely recommend it.  Well, unless you don't want to sob like a damn baby for an hour - and then have the entire soundtrack stuck in your head for a week.  (And if you're me, it'll only be certain lines from the songs.. over and over and over and over... because you fail at lyrics.)

The other day Shawn was reading my blog and just barely realized I still haven't changed the URL to my married name.  I told him I didn't want to confuse the internet.  The sub-text reads more like, I'm a lazy ass and can't be bothered.  More wife points.

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned that we're taking a break from fertility doctors for a while.  The only thing I'm doing right now is taking Metformin - which helps with insulin levels, which in turn helps keep all my dude hormones in check - which we like to think will ultimately help me squeeze a tiny human out my 'gina some day.  I am still, however, taking ovulation tests - because I'm an addict and can't not pee on sticks.

After peeing on about 48932048329 of them, I actually ended up getting a smiley face (positive) indicating that my body was, in fact, gearing up to ovulate all by itself.  But of course there are a couple caveats to getting a smiley face.  First, it doesn't necessarily mean that you will ovulate - it just indicates that your body is gearing up to potentially ovulate (which, by the way, is the most irritating, less effective thing ever).  And second, women with PCOS get false positives all the time, because cysts will put off hormones that fake the pee stick out.  As if PCOS wasn't already a huge pain in my crack.  (And for those of you who didn't read this post, PCOS is Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome, and it's pretty much a giant hormone imbalance that grows mustaches, asses, zits, and ovarian cysts.  Wee!)

Anyways - I called my nurse and asked if I could get a blood test to confirm that I actually had ovulated - and it turns out that I really did.  Ovary high-five!  So now Shawn gets this text message once a month:


(I posted this on Facebook, and had a handful of people thinking that I was pregnant.  My bad.  But, first thing to keep in mind - you're probably never going to see a pregnancy test that smiles at you if you're pregnant - because I can only imagine that while it would be fine for a lot of people, it sure has the potential to royally piss a lot of other unsuspecting women off.  And secondly, if and when I ever do get pregnant.  I promise there will be absolutely no question about it.  You'll know.)

So we're probably going to keep trying for a few months on just the Metformin - and if that still isn't working, chances are we'll move on and shell out several thousand dollars for IVF - because homegirl can only take so many negative pregnancy tests.

My mother-in-law got Shawn and I both glasses for Christmas.  Shawn actually really needed them, because the ones he had looked like he found them in a dumpster.  And I just needed some computer glasses - since I spend 75% of my life staring at one.

The picture doesn't really do his old glasses justice - but they were disgusting.  And then the bottom ones are his new ones.  Just in case you didn't glean that on your own.  I didn't take a picture of mine - because I looked like a tubby hobo.

My hair is really long.  Not like, butt-touching long, but it's definitely cover-my-boobs-so-I-could-be-a-mermaid long.  And one of the first things people who haven't seen me for a while say is some variation of, "Your hair is soooo long!"  Seriously.  Every. time.  Not that I have a problem with it - I certainly prefer it to, "You've gained soooo much weight!"  Anyways, I suppose that's what 2 years of prenatals will do.  I haven't gotten it cut for a while.  Well, except for when I took nose hair trimmers to my bangs because they were long, disgusting, and irritating the everloving crap out of me. (Sidenote: I really wish I could pull off the bangs across my forehead thing - because my forehead is the size of China.  When I've tried it in the past, I just look like a creepy Chester.)

Shawn celebrated 25 years of living in November.  We didn't do anything too special.  Turns out you don't really need to, when all it takes to make his birthday happy is to not wear clothes.  I did actually get him some big boy golf clubs though, since he has had his old set since he was in like, 8th grade.  I didn't actually choose them out myself - it was more dragging him to Scheels, taking him to the golf section, and saying, "Happy Birthday!  CHOOSE ONE."  We came home and had cake and ice cream with a bunch of our friends and family.  So, nothin' overly fancy.  I'm pretty sure I'm mostly excited that we don't have to pay absurd underage fees when we rent cars.  Because that is annoying.

    He definitely spit all over the cake.  (A cake, by the way, that I'm pretty sure gave everyone diabetes.)

Okay, this post has literally taken me 4 days to write.  I get bored/distracted way too easily.  Apparently it's time to start popping a few Adderalls before I try to write the ol' blog.  So I'm just going to stop now, because if I keep going - I'll probably get sidetracked again, and you won't hear from my until February.  Not to mention it's almost 2 in the damn morning.  (Thanks for that, middle-of-the-day-3 hour nap.) 

Happy Weekend, yo!