Despite my exhaustion, the past few nights I've found myself not being able to sleep. My brain can't shut down. I sleep lightly when I do sleep, the slightest sound wakes me up. Last night it was the sound of Kiki throwing up a hairball, then just throwing up, a little food, a leaf, and some spit. Get up, clean the floor, make sure she doesn't have vom on her pretty fur, and then back to bed is the standard routine for 3 am cat barfs, which are a pretty regular part of our lives. The first warning cough from a cat's mouth can wake me from the deepest of sleeps, thanks for the couple of years with my sick Roo-cat. It's like a bat signal for me. We joke that Roo was just prepping us for what it will be like with a newborn. Luckily Kiki's are either hairballs or this weird vindictive way of getting me to wake up earlier than 5 am to feed her. "I am so hungry, look I am spitting up on the floor" and then it's MEOW MEOW MEOW PURRRRRR FEED ME. She never throws up in the daytime. It's only between 3 and 4 am. This morning though, instead of going back to bed, I went to lay on our tiny couch. Kiki joined me, and it's the only spot where she will actually lay ON me. In bed it's always next to me, in the crook of my arm, or on a pillow just at the tops of our heads. But on the couch, she will get right on me. Especially now. I think she likes the baby, (I hope she does) and it seems the baby likes her, for whenever she lays on my stomach and purrs, the kicks are more frequent. So either the baby is enjoying her, or maybe the baby hates her. Not that anyone could ever hate Kiki, it's impossible. I fell asleep for a half hour or so, scrunched in an uncomfortable position on the two seater couch, with Kiki asleep on my belly and an afghan half covering us, and it was probably the most peaceful thirty minutes of sleep I've had in a long time.
This morning is full of coffee and orange juice and attempting to be productive. Here I go.
(Last night I read about diapers and baby baths. It never ends.)
Showing posts with label reallife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reallife. Show all posts
Friday, January 18, 2013
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Try to be positive, I hear it helps.
Yesterday I got some news which threw us for a loop. It's not a health related, thankfully, but money related. Let's be clear here: we are not financially ready to have a baby. Seeing that we never thought I could physically get pregnant, it was something we didn't have to worry about. Just so long as we could pay our rent, pay our bills, feed ourselves, and buy Kiki's expensive prescription food, plus save a little, we were good. Then the pregnancy happens, and it all changes.
Somehow, six plus years ago when I signed up for my insurance and everything else, I didn't sign up for the short term disability plan. I guess because I was young(ish) with no family to worry about, or maybe just because I am stupid sometimes. Well, this poor decision means that I will have no money when I am on maternity leave. I didn't find out about this until yesterday, as the past few months I comforted myself with the thought that I would get twelve weeks of short term disability pay. I sat down with my boss yesterday to discuss things, I felt good, mostly, even when she gave me the numbers for how much my insurance will cost when I am not working (as I will have to pay the full amount) and had confidence that we would manage to get buy with less money.
Only a few minutes later she came to find me, to tell that our HR lady informed her that I never signed up for the short term disability. She obviously felt terrible telling me this. It felt like someone not only slapped me in the face but also punched me in the stomach, kicked me in the vagina, and proceeded to pummel my back when I was down. I put on my most brave-I-don't-care face and told her we would work it out somehow. Then I went back to my desk and cried.
By then my four hour work day was over, so I went to my car and cried more. Then I drove home, crying, and basically spent the whole night crying as well.
I woke up this morning with the worst headache of my life and no closer to figuring out how we will do this, but knowing that crying and crying about it isn't going to magically make money appear, so I should probably stop doing that. This is one of those times in life where thinking positively sounds like it could help, but it SO HARD TO DO. I know my mom will help us as much as she can. And I am looking into state health insurance for the baby (if I get the baby insurance through work, I am basically working only to pay for insurance and nothing else) but wading through the government websites is so tedious and confusing. Not something to do with a groggy snot-filled head a day after you've cried for over eight hours. I have a little while to sort out that part, anyways.
Now is one those times when I hate this country and it's fucked up backwards way of treating women, and people, in general. I would love to have universal healthcare and paid maternity leave. It would be worth it to pay more taxes to know that these services were always going to be there, that if you were sick you could see a doctor, that if you had a baby you wouldn't risk losing your job and your livelihood while you stayed at home with your newborn. Greatest country, my ass.
There's only so many options we have at this point. It's time for me to bite the bullet and start selling off some of my Pyrex collection (you've been waiting for me to do that, soon you will get your wish!) and getting serious about loading my Etsy shop up with all the treasures I've been hoarding. Making a real budget, doing meal plans, comparing grocery fliers are all things we will need to start doing seriously, not just every so often when we feel inspired. We don't go out to eat, we don't go to movies, we rarely do anything outside of the home that costs money, so we don't need to change that part of life too much, which is nice. We may see if we can stay here in this apartment awhile longer. It's too small for sure, but I just don't see how we will have the money to move, and it's not like the baby will know that it doesn't have a room anyways. I guess moving with a six month old will be just as annoying as moving when I am six months pregnant.
LOOK, I am not trying to be all woe is me. I know that people with way less have babies every day and make it work. And so will we. We have support of family and friends, and though we may have no money, we have a whole lot of LOVE, which is something that not everyone with a big house and fancy cars has. And LOVE is worth more than money, right?
At least I know our kid won't be spoil. See me, being positive??
(I regret buying that coat now but what's done is done. Oh, my boobs are still really fucking itchy.)
Somehow, six plus years ago when I signed up for my insurance and everything else, I didn't sign up for the short term disability plan. I guess because I was young(ish) with no family to worry about, or maybe just because I am stupid sometimes. Well, this poor decision means that I will have no money when I am on maternity leave. I didn't find out about this until yesterday, as the past few months I comforted myself with the thought that I would get twelve weeks of short term disability pay. I sat down with my boss yesterday to discuss things, I felt good, mostly, even when she gave me the numbers for how much my insurance will cost when I am not working (as I will have to pay the full amount) and had confidence that we would manage to get buy with less money.
Only a few minutes later she came to find me, to tell that our HR lady informed her that I never signed up for the short term disability. She obviously felt terrible telling me this. It felt like someone not only slapped me in the face but also punched me in the stomach, kicked me in the vagina, and proceeded to pummel my back when I was down. I put on my most brave-I-don't-care face and told her we would work it out somehow. Then I went back to my desk and cried.
By then my four hour work day was over, so I went to my car and cried more. Then I drove home, crying, and basically spent the whole night crying as well.
I woke up this morning with the worst headache of my life and no closer to figuring out how we will do this, but knowing that crying and crying about it isn't going to magically make money appear, so I should probably stop doing that. This is one of those times in life where thinking positively sounds like it could help, but it SO HARD TO DO. I know my mom will help us as much as she can. And I am looking into state health insurance for the baby (if I get the baby insurance through work, I am basically working only to pay for insurance and nothing else) but wading through the government websites is so tedious and confusing. Not something to do with a groggy snot-filled head a day after you've cried for over eight hours. I have a little while to sort out that part, anyways.
Now is one those times when I hate this country and it's fucked up backwards way of treating women, and people, in general. I would love to have universal healthcare and paid maternity leave. It would be worth it to pay more taxes to know that these services were always going to be there, that if you were sick you could see a doctor, that if you had a baby you wouldn't risk losing your job and your livelihood while you stayed at home with your newborn. Greatest country, my ass.
There's only so many options we have at this point. It's time for me to bite the bullet and start selling off some of my Pyrex collection (you've been waiting for me to do that, soon you will get your wish!) and getting serious about loading my Etsy shop up with all the treasures I've been hoarding. Making a real budget, doing meal plans, comparing grocery fliers are all things we will need to start doing seriously, not just every so often when we feel inspired. We don't go out to eat, we don't go to movies, we rarely do anything outside of the home that costs money, so we don't need to change that part of life too much, which is nice. We may see if we can stay here in this apartment awhile longer. It's too small for sure, but I just don't see how we will have the money to move, and it's not like the baby will know that it doesn't have a room anyways. I guess moving with a six month old will be just as annoying as moving when I am six months pregnant.
LOOK, I am not trying to be all woe is me. I know that people with way less have babies every day and make it work. And so will we. We have support of family and friends, and though we may have no money, we have a whole lot of LOVE, which is something that not everyone with a big house and fancy cars has. And LOVE is worth more than money, right?
At least I know our kid won't be spoil. See me, being positive??
(I regret buying that coat now but what's done is done. Oh, my boobs are still really fucking itchy.)
Friday, January 4, 2013
I learned a thing.
Did you know that you can have a short cervix? It's true. And I have one. We found out on New Years Eve. Way to ring in 2013!
What does this mean? That there is a higher chance of preterm labor. One in two, really. We spent too long googling things and getting upset. A few days later, I am in a little better frame of mind about it, mostly because I have to be.
I am taking progesterone, which will hopefully help. I am on pelvic rest (no orgasms.) My work schedule has been cut in half, which is nice for Kiki and bad for my checking account. I am trying to take it easy, but when I am supposed to be resting is when I feel like I need to do things. (Funny how that works, when I have a lot to do is when I want to do nothing.) I have some crappy Y/A books to read, and I have my laptop. There is always SVU when all else fails me.
At least it's cold out. Then I don't feel so annoyed about laying on my bed for hours at a time with Kiki sleeping like a fur lump next to me.
(oh the baby? The baby is doing great. Just gotta keep in there as long as possible.)
What does this mean? That there is a higher chance of preterm labor. One in two, really. We spent too long googling things and getting upset. A few days later, I am in a little better frame of mind about it, mostly because I have to be.
I am taking progesterone, which will hopefully help. I am on pelvic rest (no orgasms.) My work schedule has been cut in half, which is nice for Kiki and bad for my checking account. I am trying to take it easy, but when I am supposed to be resting is when I feel like I need to do things. (Funny how that works, when I have a lot to do is when I want to do nothing.) I have some crappy Y/A books to read, and I have my laptop. There is always SVU when all else fails me.
At least it's cold out. Then I don't feel so annoyed about laying on my bed for hours at a time with Kiki sleeping like a fur lump next to me.
(oh the baby? The baby is doing great. Just gotta keep in there as long as possible.)
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Sometimes I have the rage.
Yesterday it appeared when I realized that we had left behind a bag at the grocery store. It was a bag of the fancy organic shampoos & conditioners & tea tree oil wipes that I love which were HALF-OFF at the regular grocery store because people in Quincy like to wash their hair with chemicals that smell like teenage girl deodorant. I was psyched, cause I was out of conditioner, and the last time I bought shampoo & conditioner I spent more money that I felt was right. It's not that I don't believe in treating myself once in awhile, but I work in a bookstore. I am not made of money. And I spend more money on Kiki's prescription food that I do my own food, so sacrifices must be made, especially with the forthcoming baby.
I went to take a shower before bed last night (at approximately 8:15 pm - I stayed up late since I don't have to work today. Get wild!) and I remembered the conditioner. I went to find the bag. It was nowhere. Trever had put the groceries away the night before. He had no idea, didn't remember seeing it. He checked the car. Twice. It wasn't there. He had been playing video games with headphones on when I realized it was missing, which I think sent the rage into over drive. I was VERY UPSET. I don't want to waste our money. And I couldn't understand how we just lost it. We went through the self checkout. We put all the groceries in the back of the volvo. We just left an entire bag behind? HOW DID WE DO THAT? WHAT THE F U C K? Yup. The rage took over. I was trying to stay calm. Really, I was. In the middle of crying and getting upset, while Trever was looking in the car, I picked up a pair of scissors off the bed from an earlier mending project, and the two clementines that had been in my bag, left over from our morning trip to the movies, in order to clear off the bed so I could get in it. He walked back inside and the look on his face was that sort of why-are-you-upset-it's-not-really-a-big-deal-you-are-acting-like-a-crazy-lady-look which basically just sent me right over the edge. I don't remember what he said next, but I definitely threw a pair of scissors across the kitchen (not AT him, he was in the other room) and threw a clementine at the floor with such force that it exploded. Then I shut myself in the bathroom to cry.
HORMONES ARE SO FUN.
He went back to the store. We must have left the bag behind cause he went to the clearance bin and it was all back in there. I had bought three of the five containers of the tea tree oil wipes, and there they were, right next to the grapefruit & geranium shampoo. I texted him not to rebuy it, out of principle, but he insisted. I told him how I felt he was dismissive of my feelings and he apologized for that. Then I went to bed.
This morning I got up early to feed Kiki. My slipper got stuck on the something on the kitchen floor. A little while later I made coffee. Trever came in to get some and I asked him what spilled on the floor last night. He reminded me that it was the clementine I smashed. He didn't clean it up last night, was going to do it today, but I felt embarrassed and stupid so I cleaned it up right away.
The point of all of this rambling? A reminder to myself, I suppose. I don't need to freak out and throw scissors and smash fruit. I don't want to be that person. I have a very distinct memory of my mother slamming kitchen cabinet doors so hard that plates fell on the floor. If I need to vent or feel the rage, I can alway sit in the car with the windows rolled up and scream at the top of my lungs. Or I can watch an episode of SVU, that usually helps. Or those tricks my therapist taught me so long ago that I have shoved in a corner closet of my mind. I supposed I could also channel the rage into lyrics for future rap songs. I can still filthy rap if I have a baby, right?
I went to take a shower before bed last night (at approximately 8:15 pm - I stayed up late since I don't have to work today. Get wild!) and I remembered the conditioner. I went to find the bag. It was nowhere. Trever had put the groceries away the night before. He had no idea, didn't remember seeing it. He checked the car. Twice. It wasn't there. He had been playing video games with headphones on when I realized it was missing, which I think sent the rage into over drive. I was VERY UPSET. I don't want to waste our money. And I couldn't understand how we just lost it. We went through the self checkout. We put all the groceries in the back of the volvo. We just left an entire bag behind? HOW DID WE DO THAT? WHAT THE F U C K? Yup. The rage took over. I was trying to stay calm. Really, I was. In the middle of crying and getting upset, while Trever was looking in the car, I picked up a pair of scissors off the bed from an earlier mending project, and the two clementines that had been in my bag, left over from our morning trip to the movies, in order to clear off the bed so I could get in it. He walked back inside and the look on his face was that sort of why-are-you-upset-it's-not-really-a-big-deal-you-are-acting-like-a-crazy-lady-look which basically just sent me right over the edge. I don't remember what he said next, but I definitely threw a pair of scissors across the kitchen (not AT him, he was in the other room) and threw a clementine at the floor with such force that it exploded. Then I shut myself in the bathroom to cry.
HORMONES ARE SO FUN.
He went back to the store. We must have left the bag behind cause he went to the clearance bin and it was all back in there. I had bought three of the five containers of the tea tree oil wipes, and there they were, right next to the grapefruit & geranium shampoo. I texted him not to rebuy it, out of principle, but he insisted. I told him how I felt he was dismissive of my feelings and he apologized for that. Then I went to bed.
This morning I got up early to feed Kiki. My slipper got stuck on the something on the kitchen floor. A little while later I made coffee. Trever came in to get some and I asked him what spilled on the floor last night. He reminded me that it was the clementine I smashed. He didn't clean it up last night, was going to do it today, but I felt embarrassed and stupid so I cleaned it up right away.
The point of all of this rambling? A reminder to myself, I suppose. I don't need to freak out and throw scissors and smash fruit. I don't want to be that person. I have a very distinct memory of my mother slamming kitchen cabinet doors so hard that plates fell on the floor. If I need to vent or feel the rage, I can alway sit in the car with the windows rolled up and scream at the top of my lungs. Or I can watch an episode of SVU, that usually helps. Or those tricks my therapist taught me so long ago that I have shoved in a corner closet of my mind. I supposed I could also channel the rage into lyrics for future rap songs. I can still filthy rap if I have a baby, right?
Thursday, December 27, 2012
A few days after the last post.
We got some big news over here. It turns out that my lady pieces are not as defective as I thought. I won't just be a cat mom anymore... THOUGH I WILL ALWAYS BE A CAT MOM, FOREVER AND EVER. (furever? ugh) This has been life changing news. I guess it usually is... but you see, I had gotten to the point where I was perfectly comfortable with the idea of never having kids. In fact, I liked the idea of it. So this all came as quite a surprise, and not a totally pleasant one. I am being honest here. I know lots of ladies are all OMG BABIEZ or MY LIFE MEANT NOTHING BEFORE MY BB WAS BORN but that's not me. I liked what we had and how things were going, so this has all taken a little while to sink in, just as it took me a little while to get comfortable with the idea of it possibly never happening.
Trever, on the other hand, is beyond thrilled. I think he's been waiting his whole life to be a dad, whether he knows it or not. When we went we had our twelve week ultrasound and saw our little hitchcock alien spawn moving around inside of me, he was crying and smiling, and all I could say was "This is like science fiction."
Now that I am 18 weeks into this.. experiment, the idea has grown on me as it grows in me and my body grows around me. I am, of course, uncomfortable in my body. My butt is getting huge, my boobs are way too big (I bought three new bras which fit for a couple weeks, and now I need new ones again) and the heartburn is killing me. Lucky for me I had acid reflux and a bad back and bunions BEFORE getting pregnant, so I guess at least I am used to these terrible pains that are with me non-stop. Besides all the physical discomfort, and the logistics that go into having a baby (we will have to move, we have no money, what will I do about work, etc etc etc), I do think that we will be excellent parents, even if I sometimes come off like a cold-hearted bitch.
I think the fact that we really enjoy each other's company and love each other will help us to be good parents. Also we have seen lots of examples of what NOT to do. And let's not forget all those episodes of Nanny 911 I have watched over the years. I GOT THIS. Not to mention, we are both cool as fuck, so it's going to be rad to impart all of our knowledge and awesomeness on the tiny person we made. (Am I supposed to stop swearing? Sorry, that will probably never happen.)
His giant Brady Bunch family is all very excited for us, as is my tiny family. My friends have been wonderfully supportive and don't mind that I never do anything fun anymore. I go to bed at seven o'clock now, since working retail during the holidays and being four months pregnant are a terrible combination (go figure) so I don't see anyone anymore, other than Trever and Kiki.
SPEAKING OF KIKI, she is doing well. We did not get a kitten, though it's still a big possibility. Part of the hesitation now is that we will need to move in the next couple of months, so it doesn't make a lot of sense to get one now... or does it? It seems like a lot of trauma for her to adjust. A new kitten, a new home, and a baby? But then we think if we get a kitten now, they can bond, and she will a friend to go through it all with. I am still keeping my eye out on craigslist for free kittens, and hoping that I will see one and I will just know that we need it. That's only happened once so far and the person never emailed me back so clearly it wasn't meant to be.
I think Kiki knows that something is up. She is smart. She isn't doing anything weird yet, like peeing in corners, but she did ignore me for a couple weeks when we first found out. She sometimes will sit on my lap, which is not normal for her. And since we got her new treats for christmas she is being extra annoying about staring at you and meowing every time you step into the kitchen. We can fill her bowl and she will ignore it. Why have delicious EXPENSIVE cat food when you can just swallow treats whole? KIKI, THEY DON'T CLEAN YOUR TEETH IF YOU DON'T FUCKING CHEW THEM, YOU KNOW.
Anyways.. I guess that's all, for now. Trever just made us tacos, so I am going to stuff my face and sit awkwardly on the couch with pillows shoved behind my back. I plan to write in this more often, which will be much easier now that I have a new-to-me laptop (christmas gift from the best dude I know) and I will also start scanning the years' worth of polaroids that I've accumulated and done nothing with. This means that Collecting Time will be updated in 2013, so do check back if you enjoy photos of cats, branches, bricks, shadows, and empty places.
BYE.
Trever, on the other hand, is beyond thrilled. I think he's been waiting his whole life to be a dad, whether he knows it or not. When we went we had our twelve week ultrasound and saw our little hitchcock alien spawn moving around inside of me, he was crying and smiling, and all I could say was "This is like science fiction."
Now that I am 18 weeks into this.. experiment, the idea has grown on me as it grows in me and my body grows around me. I am, of course, uncomfortable in my body. My butt is getting huge, my boobs are way too big (I bought three new bras which fit for a couple weeks, and now I need new ones again) and the heartburn is killing me. Lucky for me I had acid reflux and a bad back and bunions BEFORE getting pregnant, so I guess at least I am used to these terrible pains that are with me non-stop. Besides all the physical discomfort, and the logistics that go into having a baby (we will have to move, we have no money, what will I do about work, etc etc etc), I do think that we will be excellent parents, even if I sometimes come off like a cold-hearted bitch.
I think the fact that we really enjoy each other's company and love each other will help us to be good parents. Also we have seen lots of examples of what NOT to do. And let's not forget all those episodes of Nanny 911 I have watched over the years. I GOT THIS. Not to mention, we are both cool as fuck, so it's going to be rad to impart all of our knowledge and awesomeness on the tiny person we made. (Am I supposed to stop swearing? Sorry, that will probably never happen.)
His giant Brady Bunch family is all very excited for us, as is my tiny family. My friends have been wonderfully supportive and don't mind that I never do anything fun anymore. I go to bed at seven o'clock now, since working retail during the holidays and being four months pregnant are a terrible combination (go figure) so I don't see anyone anymore, other than Trever and Kiki.
SPEAKING OF KIKI, she is doing well. We did not get a kitten, though it's still a big possibility. Part of the hesitation now is that we will need to move in the next couple of months, so it doesn't make a lot of sense to get one now... or does it? It seems like a lot of trauma for her to adjust. A new kitten, a new home, and a baby? But then we think if we get a kitten now, they can bond, and she will a friend to go through it all with. I am still keeping my eye out on craigslist for free kittens, and hoping that I will see one and I will just know that we need it. That's only happened once so far and the person never emailed me back so clearly it wasn't meant to be.
I think Kiki knows that something is up. She is smart. She isn't doing anything weird yet, like peeing in corners, but she did ignore me for a couple weeks when we first found out. She sometimes will sit on my lap, which is not normal for her. And since we got her new treats for christmas she is being extra annoying about staring at you and meowing every time you step into the kitchen. We can fill her bowl and she will ignore it. Why have delicious EXPENSIVE cat food when you can just swallow treats whole? KIKI, THEY DON'T CLEAN YOUR TEETH IF YOU DON'T FUCKING CHEW THEM, YOU KNOW.
Anyways.. I guess that's all, for now. Trever just made us tacos, so I am going to stuff my face and sit awkwardly on the couch with pillows shoved behind my back. I plan to write in this more often, which will be much easier now that I have a new-to-me laptop (christmas gift from the best dude I know) and I will also start scanning the years' worth of polaroids that I've accumulated and done nothing with. This means that Collecting Time will be updated in 2013, so do check back if you enjoy photos of cats, branches, bricks, shadows, and empty places.
BYE.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
twenty two days ago
That was the last time I wrote on this thing. What has happened since then? Well, it's officially FALL, which is great. I am so glad. Now if only I knew where my tights and sweaters are, since I packed them away before we moved, but I don't know in what. Probably in the mountain of shit in our storage space. Not that it will matter much if I find them, as I've easily put on fifteen pounds since last fall, so it may be time to invest in some new tights. Too tight tights? NO THANK YOU. (I am currently wearing one of the two pairs I could locate. Right now, I feel like sausage in casing.)
Fall into winter is a busy time at work, and in life, I guess. I will be turning 34 in a couple weeks, and things are changing in some pretty major ways, most of which I will not discuss on here, but I will say this: when you aren't expecting things is when they will happen.
We brought Kiki in to see her boyfriend (the vet) to check out her scabby chin and get an overall check up & senior blood work done.
(Here's where I brag for a moment about just how GOOD Kiki is at the vet. She may cry in the car, but once she is there, she never puts up a fight, even when he scrapes the plaque off her teeth with his thumbnail. She has not once scratched a vet, not in al her fifteen years. Watch, I probably just jinxed myelf and next time she will tear someone up...)
He asked us how she was doing, being the only cat and what not, and then recommended that if we DO decide to get another cat, we SHOULD get a KITTEN.
THIS IS EXCITING NEWS. Especially because the Quincy Animal Shelter is loaded up with them right now. In fact, this weekend they were having a "Kitten Klearance" Adoption Weekend, as they have over SEVENTY kittens available. We are going to check with the landlord to make sure it's okay if we have two cats (I've never understood the only-one-cat-rule. What's two cats when you already have one, really?) and once we get the okay, we will go pick out Kiki's new kitten. I wish we could bring her along to choose. I have a bunch of days off around my birthday, and all of our possible plans have not worked out, so I have no plans. Perfect time to stay home with cats, I'd say.
Maybe we will name the new cat Birthday.
Fall into winter is a busy time at work, and in life, I guess. I will be turning 34 in a couple weeks, and things are changing in some pretty major ways, most of which I will not discuss on here, but I will say this: when you aren't expecting things is when they will happen.
We brought Kiki in to see her boyfriend (the vet) to check out her scabby chin and get an overall check up & senior blood work done.
(Here's where I brag for a moment about just how GOOD Kiki is at the vet. She may cry in the car, but once she is there, she never puts up a fight, even when he scrapes the plaque off her teeth with his thumbnail. She has not once scratched a vet, not in al her fifteen years. Watch, I probably just jinxed myelf and next time she will tear someone up...)
He asked us how she was doing, being the only cat and what not, and then recommended that if we DO decide to get another cat, we SHOULD get a KITTEN.
THIS IS EXCITING NEWS. Especially because the Quincy Animal Shelter is loaded up with them right now. In fact, this weekend they were having a "Kitten Klearance" Adoption Weekend, as they have over SEVENTY kittens available. We are going to check with the landlord to make sure it's okay if we have two cats (I've never understood the only-one-cat-rule. What's two cats when you already have one, really?) and once we get the okay, we will go pick out Kiki's new kitten. I wish we could bring her along to choose. I have a bunch of days off around my birthday, and all of our possible plans have not worked out, so I have no plans. Perfect time to stay home with cats, I'd say.
Maybe we will name the new cat Birthday.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
I can't believe it's September.
We have not adopted a second cat. It's still a thing we think about and talk about, but I think maybe it's not what Kiki wants after all. We've started leaving the radio on for her during the day, and it turns out that maybe she just really wanted to listen to NPR for eight hours a day. WHO KNEW! She is so informed now.
So far the only problem with this plan has been the night we went to Amber's graduation party and we spent the night to be safe. We left the radio on in the bedroom for her. The volume of it at noon on saturday when we left was perfectly acceptable. That same volume at 5 am on Sunday morning blaring out of open bedroom windows, not so much. When we pulled into the driveway, I heard people talking. I thought WHO THE HECK IS UP SO EARLY AND WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT and then I realized what it was, and I felt like a giant asshole.
It hasn't happened again.
Anyways.
We are nearly settled. The tiles are scraped in the bathroom, so we can see the original lovely sea green/aqua. We still need to fix the grout, and we plan on replacing the bathoom faucet. It works fine, but it's gross. Pretty gross. Too gross to actually feel clean when you clean it. So even though we rent, and we won't be here forever, we are going to replace it. Just like we did with the kitchen. It's amazing, it's such a small thing to do and it makes the BIGGEST difference. Try it the next time you move into an old apartment.
I have a little workspace set up in the corner of our "diningroom". It's gets the quotes, because while it has a table and chairs and a hutch with dishware, it also houses the aforementioned workspace, (made up of our old tiny table and some strategically placed shelves) a bookcase, more books in the hutch, the plant cart, and the two fifty gallon tanks filled with water where Ethyl, Bertha, Bruce, and Little Turtle* live. Also my giant closet. So it's just a big mish mosh, like everything else in my life, which is fine with me.
Speaking of the turtles, Ethyl & Bertha let me stroke their heads. LT likes to be hand fed one piece of food before he will eat anything else in the water. Bruce doesn't really want to interact. It's fine. I am like that often, too, Bruce, so I understand. Kiki is only interested in LT and Bruce when she has had a lot of catnip. Not a little. She needs a whole pile to roll in, only then does she notice their presence, and it's a pretty awesome sight.
It's hard to believe it's almost the middle of September. I turn 34 years old in a little over one month. It's hard to believe it, sometimes.
*Little Turtle is the only turtle with his original name. I renamed the other three. Little Turtle is also known as LT or Lawrence Taylor.
So far the only problem with this plan has been the night we went to Amber's graduation party and we spent the night to be safe. We left the radio on in the bedroom for her. The volume of it at noon on saturday when we left was perfectly acceptable. That same volume at 5 am on Sunday morning blaring out of open bedroom windows, not so much. When we pulled into the driveway, I heard people talking. I thought WHO THE HECK IS UP SO EARLY AND WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT and then I realized what it was, and I felt like a giant asshole.
It hasn't happened again.
Anyways.
We are nearly settled. The tiles are scraped in the bathroom, so we can see the original lovely sea green/aqua. We still need to fix the grout, and we plan on replacing the bathoom faucet. It works fine, but it's gross. Pretty gross. Too gross to actually feel clean when you clean it. So even though we rent, and we won't be here forever, we are going to replace it. Just like we did with the kitchen. It's amazing, it's such a small thing to do and it makes the BIGGEST difference. Try it the next time you move into an old apartment.
I have a little workspace set up in the corner of our "diningroom". It's gets the quotes, because while it has a table and chairs and a hutch with dishware, it also houses the aforementioned workspace, (made up of our old tiny table and some strategically placed shelves) a bookcase, more books in the hutch, the plant cart, and the two fifty gallon tanks filled with water where Ethyl, Bertha, Bruce, and Little Turtle* live. Also my giant closet. So it's just a big mish mosh, like everything else in my life, which is fine with me.
Speaking of the turtles, Ethyl & Bertha let me stroke their heads. LT likes to be hand fed one piece of food before he will eat anything else in the water. Bruce doesn't really want to interact. It's fine. I am like that often, too, Bruce, so I understand. Kiki is only interested in LT and Bruce when she has had a lot of catnip. Not a little. She needs a whole pile to roll in, only then does she notice their presence, and it's a pretty awesome sight.
It's hard to believe it's almost the middle of September. I turn 34 years old in a little over one month. It's hard to believe it, sometimes.
*Little Turtle is the only turtle with his original name. I renamed the other three. Little Turtle is also known as LT or Lawrence Taylor.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
I am on vacation.
This means it's 8:28 am on a Tuesday and I am sitting in Cat Dad's robe, drinking coffee and listening to the radio while fucking around the internet. I am NOT at work. I am not going anywhere, or doing anything very exciting. He has the car, so if I want to go anywhere it's a pain in the ass. I am just home. And it's NICE. (I am supposed update my etsy shop this week. I will. I SWEAR.)
Let's see. Friday was my first of ten days off. I spent the day crazy cleaning our whole apartment. Half the living space had become a pile of vintage. A mobile rack, suitcases, bags. I managed to find a place for everything. It's tight. And organized. In the last month we really have figured out this apartment, the best ways to make use of it's tiny space. We could still make the closets better, and we definitely have more we can get rid off, I'm sure. But right now, our place feels really good. Cozy. Light. Airy. There's a lot of good views in it right now. It's really important to me to love where I live, as I am basically a giant homebody, but as a Libra, I need to be surrounded by beauty. SO I CAN'T LIVE IN AN UGLY PLACE. I won't allow it.
I am rambling due to how I started this day and my coffee is only just now kicking in, so let me get to the point.
We had been talking for awhile now about whether or not we would renew our lease. As much as we like our actual apartment, the neighborhood isn't the best. In fact, it kind of sucks. I am not a fan of some of the neighbors. And it's a little unnerving to hear teenagers getting arrested at 1:00 AM for jumping a man who was walking home from the train. Right outside your bedroom window. I wouldn't mind being able to walk down my street and not have to look down for broken glass.
We couldn't do anything until after Roo. It wouldn't have been fair to do that to her. Kiki seems to be enjoying herself now. She is quite the princess. She has taken over the backporch, eats four meals a day. While she would probably be a little pissed at us, I don't think a move for her is out of the question right now. She is still pretty spry. And if we ever do get another cat, we should probably live someplace else.
Which leads me to this. We looked at apartment a couple weeks ago. We applied for it. We are still waiting to hear. It's weird. I could be using this vacation to pack. Or not. And either way, we will accept the decision. I've been looking around here sadly the past few days, thinking I could still enjoy the space I've made for a little bit longer. But then I look in the tiny jam packed closet and remember the FOUR closets that could be ours, and I know we are ready for a change. So whatever happens, we will keep on keeping on and doing what we do.
BUT HEY, CROSS YOUR FINGERS FOR US. Thanks, really.
and now a brief recap of the past four days aka Cat Dad Turns Thirty So We Celebrate
FRIDAY: Cleaned all day. Our friend Jordan came over that night, we drank beer and ate burgers & fries and HUNG OUT, it was great. I decided that it was time for Cat Dad to open his first birthday present, the classic navy blue lace up vans he's wanted since he was thirteen but for some reason has never bought. He put them on right away and was so happy. I rule.
SATURDAY: Woke up kinda fuzzy. Showers, coffee, breakfast sandwiches (homemade, always, glutenfree life) and then into the car, up to NH, where we went on a tour of the Zimmerman House. It was AWESOME. Just really beautiful. I don't think I can go into it all right now. We couldn't take pictures inside but if we could, I would have stayed in the kitchen taking pictures of every single thing. Walked around the museum. Bought stuff at the gift store (Frank Lloyd Stained Glass Windows Coloring Book. YES.) Made our way back to Quincy, where I made him open all of his birthday presents. (Three old FLW books, the LEGO set for Fallingwater, and a pillow from Stitchagram that is all pictures of Kiki & Roo. It made him cry. Which made me cry. So then I sobbed. And then we put the pillow on the bed and Kiki slept on it. Are you kidding me?) We ate frozen burritos & chicken nuggets for dinner, fancy I know. AND THEN.... We had a birthday party! It was small. Ten people? But all awesome people. Karaoke, Cat Dad Cake, snacks, dancing. Good times. I think he felt loved,which is the point of birthday parties.
SUNDAY: Woke up late (9), left the house dirty. Went to the flea market and SCORED. Went out for breakfast with some of the family. Stop by another friend's house on the southshore. Finally made it home, made sandwiches, and relaxed on the couch. I was asleep before 9:00 pm.
MONDAY: HIS ACTUAL BIRTHDAY. Cat Dad is finally thirty! He went to work, I read a book on the back porch in the sunshine. Birthday dinner? A pitcher of Sangria and three dozen oysters. So you can figure out what dessert was.
He never liked birthdays before me.
Let's see. Friday was my first of ten days off. I spent the day crazy cleaning our whole apartment. Half the living space had become a pile of vintage. A mobile rack, suitcases, bags. I managed to find a place for everything. It's tight. And organized. In the last month we really have figured out this apartment, the best ways to make use of it's tiny space. We could still make the closets better, and we definitely have more we can get rid off, I'm sure. But right now, our place feels really good. Cozy. Light. Airy. There's a lot of good views in it right now. It's really important to me to love where I live, as I am basically a giant homebody, but as a Libra, I need to be surrounded by beauty. SO I CAN'T LIVE IN AN UGLY PLACE. I won't allow it.
I am rambling due to how I started this day and my coffee is only just now kicking in, so let me get to the point.
We had been talking for awhile now about whether or not we would renew our lease. As much as we like our actual apartment, the neighborhood isn't the best. In fact, it kind of sucks. I am not a fan of some of the neighbors. And it's a little unnerving to hear teenagers getting arrested at 1:00 AM for jumping a man who was walking home from the train. Right outside your bedroom window. I wouldn't mind being able to walk down my street and not have to look down for broken glass.
We couldn't do anything until after Roo. It wouldn't have been fair to do that to her. Kiki seems to be enjoying herself now. She is quite the princess. She has taken over the backporch, eats four meals a day. While she would probably be a little pissed at us, I don't think a move for her is out of the question right now. She is still pretty spry. And if we ever do get another cat, we should probably live someplace else.
Which leads me to this. We looked at apartment a couple weeks ago. We applied for it. We are still waiting to hear. It's weird. I could be using this vacation to pack. Or not. And either way, we will accept the decision. I've been looking around here sadly the past few days, thinking I could still enjoy the space I've made for a little bit longer. But then I look in the tiny jam packed closet and remember the FOUR closets that could be ours, and I know we are ready for a change. So whatever happens, we will keep on keeping on and doing what we do.
BUT HEY, CROSS YOUR FINGERS FOR US. Thanks, really.
and now a brief recap of the past four days aka Cat Dad Turns Thirty So We Celebrate
FRIDAY: Cleaned all day. Our friend Jordan came over that night, we drank beer and ate burgers & fries and HUNG OUT, it was great. I decided that it was time for Cat Dad to open his first birthday present, the classic navy blue lace up vans he's wanted since he was thirteen but for some reason has never bought. He put them on right away and was so happy. I rule.
SATURDAY: Woke up kinda fuzzy. Showers, coffee, breakfast sandwiches (homemade, always, glutenfree life) and then into the car, up to NH, where we went on a tour of the Zimmerman House. It was AWESOME. Just really beautiful. I don't think I can go into it all right now. We couldn't take pictures inside but if we could, I would have stayed in the kitchen taking pictures of every single thing. Walked around the museum. Bought stuff at the gift store (Frank Lloyd Stained Glass Windows Coloring Book. YES.) Made our way back to Quincy, where I made him open all of his birthday presents. (Three old FLW books, the LEGO set for Fallingwater, and a pillow from Stitchagram that is all pictures of Kiki & Roo. It made him cry. Which made me cry. So then I sobbed. And then we put the pillow on the bed and Kiki slept on it. Are you kidding me?) We ate frozen burritos & chicken nuggets for dinner, fancy I know. AND THEN.... We had a birthday party! It was small. Ten people? But all awesome people. Karaoke, Cat Dad Cake, snacks, dancing. Good times. I think he felt loved,which is the point of birthday parties.
SUNDAY: Woke up late (9), left the house dirty. Went to the flea market and SCORED. Went out for breakfast with some of the family. Stop by another friend's house on the southshore. Finally made it home, made sandwiches, and relaxed on the couch. I was asleep before 9:00 pm.
MONDAY: HIS ACTUAL BIRTHDAY. Cat Dad is finally thirty! He went to work, I read a book on the back porch in the sunshine. Birthday dinner? A pitcher of Sangria and three dozen oysters. So you can figure out what dessert was.
He never liked birthdays before me.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
I am changed by the past week.
I feel a hollow spot. I don't want to smile. I don't want to listen to hip hop. I feel acutely aware of things in my life that make me unhappy. My eyes look different.
I got a call today that Roo's ashes are ready to be picked up.
I saw a bird with it's wing mangled and stuck in the middle of the road. All the cars in that lane kept swerving to avoid it, when really it need to be put out of it's misery. I almost turned around to do it. Instead I got home and sat in my sister's car in my driveway and cried.
Am I supposed to get an urn? Should I sprinkle her ashes somewhere? No place seems appropriate. I could put her ashes into ink and get a tattoo of her face. So far that makes the most sense. Anyone want to buy me a tattoo?
The only things that I get any sense of relief from: listening to the 69 Love Songs, watching 90210 (yes, the new terrible one) and thrifting. Since I've had a terrible cold, there's been less bourbon drinking, which is probably okay, but man, it sucks to sit here with my feelings and really FEEL them. Bourbon is good numbing agent.
Kiki and I have been exchanging meaningful glances. We both know this is going to be an adjustment.
I got a call today that Roo's ashes are ready to be picked up.
I saw a bird with it's wing mangled and stuck in the middle of the road. All the cars in that lane kept swerving to avoid it, when really it need to be put out of it's misery. I almost turned around to do it. Instead I got home and sat in my sister's car in my driveway and cried.
Am I supposed to get an urn? Should I sprinkle her ashes somewhere? No place seems appropriate. I could put her ashes into ink and get a tattoo of her face. So far that makes the most sense. Anyone want to buy me a tattoo?
The only things that I get any sense of relief from: listening to the 69 Love Songs, watching 90210 (yes, the new terrible one) and thrifting. Since I've had a terrible cold, there's been less bourbon drinking, which is probably okay, but man, it sucks to sit here with my feelings and really FEEL them. Bourbon is good numbing agent.
Kiki and I have been exchanging meaningful glances. We both know this is going to be an adjustment.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Kiki.
She seems listless. I think she is enjoying having our full attention, but there is this sadness on her face. The cats didn't sleep together, they barely ever sat next to each other (usually I forced them). I mean, they did when they were little, but it's hard for me to remember a time when they were cuddly with each other except for in the first few months I had them. Mostly, they fought. HARD. Like cartoon style cat fights, rolling balls of fluffy limbs, hissing and growling, fur flying. Usually they both had scabs after. And I think that's how they liked it. I know it's been hard on Kiki, watching her sister get sick, and having no one to really get rowdy with. Sometimes I think she would like a young cat to beat up. But at the same time, fifteen seems like a good age to be an only cat. I don't know. I just worry that when I go back to work tomorrow she will lay in the closet all day, feeling lonely. And I don't want that. Maybe I should get her some fish to stare at.
We haven't washed Roo's scarf, or the blanket she decided was hers. We put them on the two chairs that Kiki frequents the most, and she has been sleeping with them. I hope it gives her comfort. As for us, we have determined that in order to move on and not keep thinking we will see Roo sitting there, we need to re-arrange the everything. Every thing. Which will be tricky because our apartment is only so big. Also, we probably should not renew our lease. (we were thinking of not renewing anyways, so this is even more of an incentive, I guess. Or the opposite? What if she haunts this place? Maybe I want to remember? I DON'T KNOW. All I know is I need to chop my hair all off.)
We haven't washed Roo's scarf, or the blanket she decided was hers. We put them on the two chairs that Kiki frequents the most, and she has been sleeping with them. I hope it gives her comfort. As for us, we have determined that in order to move on and not keep thinking we will see Roo sitting there, we need to re-arrange the everything. Every thing. Which will be tricky because our apartment is only so big. Also, we probably should not renew our lease. (we were thinking of not renewing anyways, so this is even more of an incentive, I guess. Or the opposite? What if she haunts this place? Maybe I want to remember? I DON'T KNOW. All I know is I need to chop my hair all off.)
Monday, April 9, 2012
I am basically all fucked up over this.
I took this polaroid on Friday. The sister cats, enjoying the sunny porch together. I am so heartbroken. I know the pain will start to fade, but I will never stop missing my Roo. Poor Kiki, alone after fifteen years of being with her sister every day. The whole thing is so sad.
RIP my sweet girl, we will always love you.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
maybe not.
I have been thinking about writing this for awhile. So. Here goes:
I have always wanted to be a mom. I remember telling Meghan that when we lived in Brighton, how I didn't have big career goals like she did, that I would be happy with a husband that I loved, a couple of kids, and a garden to grow food. If I had to have a job, all that I could ask is that the job didn't make me miserable. I wasn't looking for too much, I didn't think. I mean, sure, the American Dream, isn't it what we all want, right?
So I just kept moving through life, trying to pin down something, or someone. Working retail, like lots of art school graduates do. Being a serial monogamist, hoping that eventually one of these dudes would be the ONE. Most relationships had a two year time limit, and then one of the two of us would realize we weren't happy. Usually it was me. When I moved back to the city after one of those endings, I realized that a guy at work, who I didn't like for a long time, and then became my friend, I actually DID have feelings for. Turns out, he had them for me, too, and thus we began a relationship that would make it PAST the two year mark. It was good for awhile but then it wasn't good. Because I am an east coast kid at heart, and I always will be, and he had a love affair with California. Unfortunately, things dragged on WAY TOO LONG. He was not forthright with his feelings. He knew about my wanting babies. I remember one conversation that stung... in the morning, he said "Last night I had a nightmare." I asked him what it was about. He said "You were pregnant. " OH. Thanks. Glad that would be a nightmare. This was after we had been together for over three years. Nice, real nice.
I should mention here that I was on hormonal birth control from the age of fifteen until the age of 27, when I finally had had enough of the bullshit. I went off the pill and I never looked back. Purchased a copy of Taking Charge of Your Fertility, asked him to read it with me; he didn't. He didn't like condoms, didn't want to learn about my cycle, didn't trust me, or biology. So basically our sex life dried up, in a major way.
Here now I will cut the story very short. No one needs to hear all about the long sad year it took for us to finally break up after over four years of being together. But there is a point in that year that is the reason for this post. In a last ditch effort to save something, save us, I decided that we needed to have more sex. At this point, we knew he was moving away to the west coast, and had talked about what this meant for us, supposed plans involving me following him there. (puh-lease, we both knew that was a lie, he didn't want me to, I wasn't going to drive my old lady cats across country) Our time left together was short. And I didn't want to not have sex because he was afraid.
So I made the decision to get an IUD.
I should say now, before I go any further, that I have lots of friends who have them, the hormonal and non-hormonal kinds, and they love them. Rave about them, in fact. And despite what happened to me, I am still an advocate for IUDs, and I wanted so badly for it to work for me. But it didn't. You know in those commercials for drugs, or, hey, IUDs, they mention side effects and the small percentage of people that have serious problems? That was me. I got my IUD, went through the painful insertion, had cramps for a couple days, and then waited to feel normal again. We tried having sex. It hurt. Walking hurt. Sitting hurt. Basically everything hurt. I went a couple weeks, the pain slightly eased, but never really went away. So I called my obgyn (who I love, so much) and made an appt. Turns out, my uterus was trying to expel it, as it was pretty low down, but otherwise, everything appeared fine. I had a decision to make, either leave it in and hope that my body got used to it, or take it out. I said TAKE IT OUT, cause I didn't want to be uncomfortable anymore. Decision made, IUD removed, body back to normal.
Or so I thought.
We were staying at my sister's house while she was on vacation with the rest of the family. It had been maybe two days since I had it removed. We were driving in to the city, and on the way there, I had these terrible pains in my abdomen. I mean, gut-wrenching-tears-down-the-face pain. Made a couple calls to my doctors. I had taken my temp in the morning when I woke, it was normal, and by the time we got back to my shitty little apartment in the city, less than an hour later, it had spiked to 102 degrees. Called the doc again, she said for me to come right in, and when I got to her, she pretty much just looked at me, and said that I had to go to the hospital right away.
Turns out, an infection in your uterus is pretty fucking painful, and also, pretty dangerous. I spent three days hooked up to three different IVs of antibiotics, in hopes that we caught everything in the nick of time, so I wouldn't have any problems in the future. My friend Jenny visited me in the hospital. She drew me a card with a uterus on it. We made up a song called FU IUD. My boyfriend, he was there for one day. He never was that good with illness or taking care of me when I needed it. My sister called me from Maine, and ask me if I was "ruined". I couldn't answer.
That was August of 2009. He left for the west coast that October, we broke up. I dated some dudes. I drank a lot of whiskey. I moved. Had some shitty roommates.
And in February of 2010, I met Trever (aka Cat Dad) and we fell in love.
He is a family man. He loves his sisters, he loves babies. He would be the best dad. I know he would. I never went back on any birth control. We used condoms in the beginning, until we both knew we were together, and then it was all timing, knowing that if anything happened, we would embrace it and make it work. Sometimes, we are intentionally careless. It's not that we are trying to have a baby, but we are not trying not to. I am thirty-three years old. I spent twelve years putting hormones in my body, started doing that before I was even done developing. I can't imagine what that does to a young girl's body, not to mention brain (hello, crazy all through college, I wonder why) Try to get back on a natural path, only to nearly destroy myself with an IUD. My periods are painful now. I worry a lot. At my last pap smear appt, my ladydoc and I talked about it, the prospect of my being "ruined", and she said there is a test I could do, but it involves shooting dye into my parts, and there are possible side effects, and quite frankly, I am not willing to risk it. Everything "appears" to be in working order, but since I have never been pregnant, we won't know if it is, until it happens. I sit with these thoughts often. I try to imagine having a baby. It's getting harder to imagine it. So I am now moving forward with other aspects of my life, figuring out what will make me happy, what I want to do with my life, and trying not to dwell on it. It's easier when I read the news and focus on how fucked up this country, and this world are, and how I don't know how I would explain the evils of it all to a little kid, or how I could raise them to not be assholes, like so many tiny brats I see every day at work and in the world. Not to mention, there are already enough fucking people in this world, who am I to be selfish and want to add more?
It may never happen for us.
So we will go through this life being cat parents, and we will be okay with that because there are SO MANY CATS in the world that need love. And we have so much love to give them.
FIN
I have always wanted to be a mom. I remember telling Meghan that when we lived in Brighton, how I didn't have big career goals like she did, that I would be happy with a husband that I loved, a couple of kids, and a garden to grow food. If I had to have a job, all that I could ask is that the job didn't make me miserable. I wasn't looking for too much, I didn't think. I mean, sure, the American Dream, isn't it what we all want, right?
So I just kept moving through life, trying to pin down something, or someone. Working retail, like lots of art school graduates do. Being a serial monogamist, hoping that eventually one of these dudes would be the ONE. Most relationships had a two year time limit, and then one of the two of us would realize we weren't happy. Usually it was me. When I moved back to the city after one of those endings, I realized that a guy at work, who I didn't like for a long time, and then became my friend, I actually DID have feelings for. Turns out, he had them for me, too, and thus we began a relationship that would make it PAST the two year mark. It was good for awhile but then it wasn't good. Because I am an east coast kid at heart, and I always will be, and he had a love affair with California. Unfortunately, things dragged on WAY TOO LONG. He was not forthright with his feelings. He knew about my wanting babies. I remember one conversation that stung... in the morning, he said "Last night I had a nightmare." I asked him what it was about. He said "You were pregnant. " OH. Thanks. Glad that would be a nightmare. This was after we had been together for over three years. Nice, real nice.
I should mention here that I was on hormonal birth control from the age of fifteen until the age of 27, when I finally had had enough of the bullshit. I went off the pill and I never looked back. Purchased a copy of Taking Charge of Your Fertility, asked him to read it with me; he didn't. He didn't like condoms, didn't want to learn about my cycle, didn't trust me, or biology. So basically our sex life dried up, in a major way.
Here now I will cut the story very short. No one needs to hear all about the long sad year it took for us to finally break up after over four years of being together. But there is a point in that year that is the reason for this post. In a last ditch effort to save something, save us, I decided that we needed to have more sex. At this point, we knew he was moving away to the west coast, and had talked about what this meant for us, supposed plans involving me following him there. (puh-lease, we both knew that was a lie, he didn't want me to, I wasn't going to drive my old lady cats across country) Our time left together was short. And I didn't want to not have sex because he was afraid.
So I made the decision to get an IUD.
I should say now, before I go any further, that I have lots of friends who have them, the hormonal and non-hormonal kinds, and they love them. Rave about them, in fact. And despite what happened to me, I am still an advocate for IUDs, and I wanted so badly for it to work for me. But it didn't. You know in those commercials for drugs, or, hey, IUDs, they mention side effects and the small percentage of people that have serious problems? That was me. I got my IUD, went through the painful insertion, had cramps for a couple days, and then waited to feel normal again. We tried having sex. It hurt. Walking hurt. Sitting hurt. Basically everything hurt. I went a couple weeks, the pain slightly eased, but never really went away. So I called my obgyn (who I love, so much) and made an appt. Turns out, my uterus was trying to expel it, as it was pretty low down, but otherwise, everything appeared fine. I had a decision to make, either leave it in and hope that my body got used to it, or take it out. I said TAKE IT OUT, cause I didn't want to be uncomfortable anymore. Decision made, IUD removed, body back to normal.
Or so I thought.
We were staying at my sister's house while she was on vacation with the rest of the family. It had been maybe two days since I had it removed. We were driving in to the city, and on the way there, I had these terrible pains in my abdomen. I mean, gut-wrenching-tears-down-the-face pain. Made a couple calls to my doctors. I had taken my temp in the morning when I woke, it was normal, and by the time we got back to my shitty little apartment in the city, less than an hour later, it had spiked to 102 degrees. Called the doc again, she said for me to come right in, and when I got to her, she pretty much just looked at me, and said that I had to go to the hospital right away.
Turns out, an infection in your uterus is pretty fucking painful, and also, pretty dangerous. I spent three days hooked up to three different IVs of antibiotics, in hopes that we caught everything in the nick of time, so I wouldn't have any problems in the future. My friend Jenny visited me in the hospital. She drew me a card with a uterus on it. We made up a song called FU IUD. My boyfriend, he was there for one day. He never was that good with illness or taking care of me when I needed it. My sister called me from Maine, and ask me if I was "ruined". I couldn't answer.
That was August of 2009. He left for the west coast that October, we broke up. I dated some dudes. I drank a lot of whiskey. I moved. Had some shitty roommates.
And in February of 2010, I met Trever (aka Cat Dad) and we fell in love.
He is a family man. He loves his sisters, he loves babies. He would be the best dad. I know he would. I never went back on any birth control. We used condoms in the beginning, until we both knew we were together, and then it was all timing, knowing that if anything happened, we would embrace it and make it work. Sometimes, we are intentionally careless. It's not that we are trying to have a baby, but we are not trying not to. I am thirty-three years old. I spent twelve years putting hormones in my body, started doing that before I was even done developing. I can't imagine what that does to a young girl's body, not to mention brain (hello, crazy all through college, I wonder why) Try to get back on a natural path, only to nearly destroy myself with an IUD. My periods are painful now. I worry a lot. At my last pap smear appt, my ladydoc and I talked about it, the prospect of my being "ruined", and she said there is a test I could do, but it involves shooting dye into my parts, and there are possible side effects, and quite frankly, I am not willing to risk it. Everything "appears" to be in working order, but since I have never been pregnant, we won't know if it is, until it happens. I sit with these thoughts often. I try to imagine having a baby. It's getting harder to imagine it. So I am now moving forward with other aspects of my life, figuring out what will make me happy, what I want to do with my life, and trying not to dwell on it. It's easier when I read the news and focus on how fucked up this country, and this world are, and how I don't know how I would explain the evils of it all to a little kid, or how I could raise them to not be assholes, like so many tiny brats I see every day at work and in the world. Not to mention, there are already enough fucking people in this world, who am I to be selfish and want to add more?
It may never happen for us.
So we will go through this life being cat parents, and we will be okay with that because there are SO MANY CATS in the world that need love. And we have so much love to give them.
FIN
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Ah Yes. Okay.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
I can't help but notice
just how FUCKED this country is. I mean, what the fuck is up with all these old white men who think women are stupid and need to be told what they are allowed to do with their bodies? It's fucking INFURIATING. Notice, please, that they are all republicans. So if you are voting republican, you are basically encouraging this.
I don't want to get political, but I just don't know how anyone with their RIGHT MIND can agree with the bullshit these assholes are spewing.
IN OTHER NEWS, we got word from our vet that he will no longer be practicing in the clinic we've been going to. He didn't say why, but I can imagine it's because the other doctor in the office (who owns it) seems like a villian from a Disney movie (props to Cat Dad for that description, which is eerily accurrate) and doesn't seem to have a kind bone in his body. I recently read the yelp reviews for the office and I was not surprised to find mostly bad reviews EXCEPT for the ones that were about our beloved Doc. Luckily he will be at a different office alternating Saturdays until he gets a permanent spot again, so he will still be able to see Roo. Also now that I know he has more time on his hands, maybe he will be willing, when IT needs to happen, to make the trip down to Quincy rather than us having to force her into a box and suffer a long car ride on the way to the end. I would like for the whole process to be as painless and easy as possible for all parties involved, and ultimately I think it would be good for Kiki, too. I think? I don't fucking know.
SIGH.
I don't want to get political, but I just don't know how anyone with their RIGHT MIND can agree with the bullshit these assholes are spewing.
IN OTHER NEWS, we got word from our vet that he will no longer be practicing in the clinic we've been going to. He didn't say why, but I can imagine it's because the other doctor in the office (who owns it) seems like a villian from a Disney movie (props to Cat Dad for that description, which is eerily accurrate) and doesn't seem to have a kind bone in his body. I recently read the yelp reviews for the office and I was not surprised to find mostly bad reviews EXCEPT for the ones that were about our beloved Doc. Luckily he will be at a different office alternating Saturdays until he gets a permanent spot again, so he will still be able to see Roo. Also now that I know he has more time on his hands, maybe he will be willing, when IT needs to happen, to make the trip down to Quincy rather than us having to force her into a box and suffer a long car ride on the way to the end. I would like for the whole process to be as painless and easy as possible for all parties involved, and ultimately I think it would be good for Kiki, too. I think? I don't fucking know.
SIGH.
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