Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Back at it

I have replaced blinds on 25 windows, bought, built and painted a kitchen island, prepped, primed and painted doors in our halls, built a changing table, a pantry and a bookshelf (meaning assembled when I "build") and have just this hot minute put drywall anchors in for our floating sink/cabinet that we had to replace in our yellow (and loved) potty. Repaired a much loved floor in our yellow potty. I put in a floating vinyl floor over hideous ceramic tile in our half potty and replaced locks and deadbolts for the house.

If you want to know how one Misfit spent maternity leave, well, the answer was bonding with glorious L, doling out love along with an alarming number of time outs to E, and a crap load of house shit.

The sibling rivalry issue is a biggie right now. More on how that is going when I have computer time at work NEXT week. Crap. Work. I miss being paid. I didn't miss work.

L is just amazing. She is my heart. I am blessed beyond my imagination on the anniversary of our move across country. I'm still a misfit with few friends, but wow, as far as life change from one coast to the next.

One handed typing has not aided my intentions for posting or editing for that matter. Pictures to apologize for my neglect.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014


I live with  someone  unhappy with me most of my day. I anticipated the infant would kick my ass, but no. The toddler is the one who is out to get me. I get sweet moments every so often. Yet a good part of my day is dealing with an epic voyage of emotional indecision.

"I want to go potty." I head towards bathroom with E. At the door. "NO, NO WaNt To GO POtty!" Inset any item for potty and repeat a dozen times a day.

Even with help from the nanny part of the day, I can barely manage to keep things from falling apart. Meals for the adults are a bit wacky and I'm grateful for overlapping naps to keep the toy layer at ankle deep. Parenting is humbling on many different levels. And I know that whatever this bit is will be short. L is six weeks? Smiling? It seems so slow hour to precious hour and suddenly I am halfway through maternity leave.

It feels a bit strange being " done"  with worrying about fertility things. I can focus on some weight loss and exercise and the other long term health concerns. It feels a bit empty all of a sudden. I have all this knowledge and no useful spot for it.

E will eventually exit twoish troll state and I will navigate parenting two miracles with (hopefully) less television and I will learn to balance these two halves of my world.

Saturday, August 16, 2014


When your toddler cries more than your newborn and starts to contribute to the night chaos, you think wow,  I wish there were some grandparents to foist you upon.

I do tell E that saying "no" in successive repetition makes it lose meaning. I am getting better at diffusing her, but with less sleep, I am a cranky mama. Luckily each day is a new beginning.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Never being pregnant again.

I was supposed to have my remaining tube sorted during my scheduled c-section. My doc gave me a very stern concerned tone when I asked him to make it happen. Serious, yes, facing a future free of being pregnant might be alarming to someone, but with just shy of a dozen of them in as many years, I feel perfectly sound saying it is over for me.

The resident on duty in L&D ended up saying something as offensive as "if this baby is dead and we end up tying your tubes, too" where I opted to skip and let the Mr. get snipped for this round.

The blessing in all this is that I can glom some story that makes the awful slog from A to Parenthood okay. I have my happy ending at this point. So there is a lot of gravity in the was it worth it camp. About a week after being home, I spent time facing the cliff I refused to acknowledge during the quest for living baby. My marriage was at risk, my livelihood, and my mental and physical health. The odds were always in favor of this not working out, and sheer stubbornness made me not give up.

I risked everything for this slice of happiness. I didn't care about the consequence. And not to minimize the monumental event of two living children, but I ought to have weighed a few things better.

L (formerly known as Elf) is doing well and E is warming to baby sister. I am filled with the joy that this little unit is complete. But, the biggest relief is that this is finally over. I will never have to be pregnant ever again. I will miss the two wonderful blessings of bearing living children at nearly full term. I will miss having the eel belly wiggles that I could feel that I was keeping my girls safe. I just wanted to get to this place. Mythical as it seemed, I am there.

The quest was so all consuming. The drive so fierce. It feels hard to believe that I am facing a life after infertility. In all of these years, it was just something I never dared to dream would be reality.

On the blogging front, I'm giving this blog a few months more. A Misfit is a misfit whether she is barren or not. I am not as literate as I once was, so expect little cultural enlightenment. But, I am fearless with home improvement and usually able spin a not-too-fictional tale in my amusing world of other weirdos.

Thursday, August 7, 2014


I forgot how bone tired tinkering with a newborn baby can be. Feeding is splendid in that I ended up on the shield, but feel more confident that I will make it to the easy flip-a-boob on the run sans silicone. Looking back on E, I don't know how or why I stuck with it. It was just so important at the time. I am glad, for sure, but it was its own challenge that got in the way of just enjoying her newness.

Elfina, or just L for here, is getting fed well, and changed and burped and all the things you just know after being thrown in the deep end with the first. She misses the I must hold you tight or you will be snatched by the universe love. I call it the, I can put you down and you will be okay for the five minutes I need to do this thing. L is held as much as a baby can, but it feels a bit less when you are trying to chase a toddler around the store.

The reality is that there is conquer and divide. Since L (elf) is attached to my boob for 8 hours a day, it means less time with E. Or so the first ten days seem to be as far as shaping the future

Recover from surgery has been swift. I do poorly on per.coset. I get anxiety and nausea for days after quitting. I did my best to taper early. Combined with the hormone crash has meant that I was a mess.

The Mr.'s paternity leave has been spent sorting out the new house. I don't recommend adding the extra layer of stress. Gut cut open, newborn attached to boob, and toddler tantrums are doable without  adding shit being in boxes and or still at the old house. And as much as family can drive me crazy, having someone to chase said toddler who is not in stitches would be kinda awesome right now.

It nearly brought me to tears that one of my good friends set up a week of meal deliveries. With the one kid, we ate well in those early beginnings. This time, between getting any food in the toddler and then getting food for us has been challenging.

Day night confusion on the infant seems worse with the fact that L hates the swaddle. She isn't a fussy baby as of yet (but she's really new) and E was fussy to the point that the five s'es were critical to our parenting arsenal. This one, not so much. I don't want to not swaddle, but after three nights of torture, I've left her with something less restrictive and hope we all get rest. We are close to being the unintentional co-sleepers. Another night or three and she might break our spirit. Again, not judging anyone on that subject, it is just something I don't want to do. But I also don't want to live on two hours of sleep much longer. If co-sleeping gets us three, well, it gets more attractive each night.

Friday, August 1, 2014

All at once upon a time...

Our house closed last Tuesday. The work we waited to complete months before settling on closing simply didn't get done. In fact, it was all going on as we moved. Bulldozers, backhoes, and boxes were complete chaos on Friday.

At 37 weeks, we hired movers and packers to keep me from exerting too much precious energy. That said, being in charge of our toddler was exactly like moving a 25 lb box all day long. I was beat. I really hate moving. But, really I hate unpacking even more.

Hiring packers was awesome. I didn't have to do our kitchen or basement. The downside was finding a dollar Ikea glass wrapped like fine china next to vintage (and expensive) barware tossed loose in a box. Whoops. Not to mention the fella who packed our basement labeled 6 boxes of misc baby stuff. Really, helpful to find the wipe warmer or crib sheets, or anything that might be in one of 6 misc boxes.

Sunday rolled in and I felt as exhausted as a 9 month pregnant lady should be. My morning kick count, and really the NSTs and regular scans I'd been getting from 32 weeks onward, were all glorious. Elfina performed perfectly. My first count, it was 10 minutes with three movements after a huge sugar based treat. I went downstairs, drank orange juice and set the timer again. 20 minutes, 3 movements. Elf is usually 10 for 10 with an outside number of 15 minutes. She's not moving as much. Torn between exhaustion and sick with worry. I went in to Labor and delivery at 9 Sunday night. I said I'd be home in 2 hours to the Mr. Famous last words.

In the end, it was the heartbeat deceleration when Elf went on the monitor. It was only the first few minutes of over an hour of ticker tape that triggered Elf's subsequent drama. I can't go into it just now. It is fresh and painful to sort through. I will say that my c-section sucked, I went for a few minutes in the OR thinking I had a dead baby. At least 15 minutes being threatened with going under general anesthesia with no parent to witness Elf's arrival. As if it was my fucking problem that the anesthesist could not do my spinal. The 7th is a charm, really. If by charm you mean a sobbing semi-hysterical lady being stuck over and over with needles and tubes in her spine for 30 minutes.

Elf is fine, for all of the many, many things that could go wrong. I heard her first cry. The Mr. was in the room. We were present. She was born with the umbilical cord around her neck three times. Something that could have robbed me of a happy ending just didn't get a chance.

She is healthy, squawky, and part bulldog when it comes to nursing. Her nights and days are sorely confused and we don't know where most of our baby shit is in the new house. But the very sweet thing is that you don't need much when it comes to the little people. And lord knows how much love she found by becoming our baby Misfit. It is a key ingredient to bind the filler for the parent recipe. Definitely covered.

Your ever humble and most grateful loser,


Monday, June 2, 2014

Surviving In-Law

I'm throwing in the towel at this point. Being related to a narcissistic leaning lady creates an exercise in futility and frustration. I will just give some highlights.

"Her favorite word is NO."
When MIL-gramma asks a two-year-old the same question over and over, and the answer was no to begin with, who is the negative one? "You want to kiss gramma?" No. "You want to come to gramma?" No. "You want to give me a hug?" No. Sadly, after 5 days of practicing the "No" response, E has perfected it. Weirdly, both the Mr. and myself had managed to steer toddler conversations away from "no." But gramma brought the negativity along.

"I never had <insert whatever> that you did, and I always wanted <same thing>."
She's two, people. Perhaps the guilt trip function is so primary that she can't see how ridiculous this line of talk is for a little person. Feel sorry for gramma already.

"Boy SHE sure has a great daughter-in-law."
This one in context for her close friend talking about her relationship with her daughter in law. Said friend had spent 30 minutes talking about how thoughtful, non-judgmental, and polite she is with her son's wife. Of course people just naturally have these great magical daughter-in-laws with no work at all. My response (which caused pouting) was, "and she works so hard on that relationship! It must be super important to her!"

"So let's talk about me again, shall we?"
This visit, she didn't even pretend to pay attention to anything I said about my family. Futility and frustration. I make an effort because I do care and I want the Mr's mom to be friendly. The Mr. started to talk about how wonderful it was for him to feel Elfina move. And it took only two sentences for her to hijack the conversation back to her pregnancies. She wants so much to corner the Mr.'s attention that she even got in his face as he was tending to E and said, "um, hello, I was talking to you." The poor Mr. is about to pop. His mom wants all of the attention pretty much the entire time. So unfair.

We are still trying to buy a house. The Mr. delayed telling his mom, because, even though there is very little chance that he'll move back to the Bay Area, she seems to think it will happen any minute. She cried like someone died when he told her that we had an offer in. She moped as he gave her an exterior tour. In her mind, we are going to magically move to the outer-outer edges of SF civilization to be NEAR HER. Keep in mind that she has told more than a few stories in the past 5 days about people leaving her retirement community to live near THEIR children. Where they have jobs and lives. In her mind, we will all be getting jobs with those high-paying companies located 60 miles from Silicon Valley. (We've asked for what companies, but that impedes on said fantasy.) And frankly, after her visits, I don't see what having selfish assholes for family does for you. Living next to them is harder than not living next to them. Can we move to Australia?

The Mr.'s (bay area located) brother didn't even bother to email or call for E's birthday. All of my family, including my cousin that we just visited made the effort to wish our sweet (usually not negative) toddler all sorts of birthday love.