Back to School

Well, summer vacations are over and it's back to blogging for me. And off to preschool for S! I can't believe it, but my baby is actually starting school. She has a backpack, a teacher, and a little cubbyhole at school with her name on it. Since it's a co-op, it's back to school for me, too. I will be working there a day a week in the classroom.

It's a great little school with a very close-knit and loyal community. Honestly, at times I joke that we're joining a cult. But, I think it's exactly what we are looking for -- a neighborhood preschool where my daughter can meet lots of other kids in our hometown. Hopefully, these will be the kids with whom she goes off to kindergarten and elementary school.

I know it's only preschool -- it's essentially a two-and-half-hour playdate -- but, I hope she does well. Eventually, I am going to just drop her off and not stay with her -- I hope she does okay with that. And, I hope that she gets along with all of the other kids and makes friends. And, I hope that she follows the rules and doesn't give the teacher too much trouble. Maybe I am just being neurotic first-time mom. I mean, if I am like this when she is going to preschool, what kind of nut am I going to be when she goes to grade school or high school or college?! But, this is really just one of the many rites of passage that are so fraught with parental hopes and prayers for their children. We all want to see our children be happy and successful whether its the first day of preschool or medical school. But neuroses aside, I really am excited about school starting on Tuesday and blogging about our first day.

If I can't have wine, you can't have whine.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, friends, books and internet sources all referred to the nerve-wracking tenor of a newborn's cry. So when S came along, I was prepared for the effect that her cries would have on me. I understood why some folks assert that the sound of nails scratching against a chalkboard is preferable to an infant's cry. It gets to your very core and sits there festering -- all you want to do is make it stop. It's probably quite evolutionary: this is how nature ensures that a parent attends to a helpless newborn's needs.

But, WHY didn't someone warn me about a toddler's whining?!?

My daughter is generally a loving, fun, easygoing little kid. Until the whining starts. And it started about three weeks ago and has hardly let up since. She wakes up whining for her milk, or her bunny, or her daddy. Then she whines that she wants me to read her a book, or that she doesn't want me to take a shower, or because she wants a snack. And all day long I am trying to hold my patience and tell her to ask me in her "normal voice" and to "please stop whining". I mean, we're both starting to sound like broken records.

I know I am not alone and that this must be something specific to her age. Many of my other friends with two year olds have reported the same trends in their homes. But the company I have in this misery doesn't make it any easier to bear when S is whining for "more crackers, Mama" for the fortieth time today. There is something so unnerving about the whine that makes me want to bang my head into the wall. In fact, I came up with a list of things that I would be less painful than the constant whining:

1. Answer the phone every time my mother-in-law calls (we're talking 4-5 times a day, people).
2. Open the front door everytime some 20 year old comes to my door selling magazines so that he can earn money for a "school field trip" or "college" or "camp".
3. Watch "Elizabethtown" or "In Her Shoes" again. Awful movies.
4. Have a Plantar's wart removed every day for a year. Without painkiller.
5. Take advanced calculus again.

Obviously, this list is by no means exhaustive, but you get my drift. Right now I am just trying to find ways to get through what I pray is a phase. A short-lived one. I think I am doing the right things -- at least according to my library of child-rearing reference books. I don't respond to requests delivered in a whiny voice; I ask her to use her normal voice; I don't use a whiney tone myself, etc. But, I would love to hear any advice that any other parents might have.

And, you know the worst part is that after a long day, I can't even calm my frayed nerves with a nice glass of wine. Or a stiff vodka tonic. Now that's enough to make you whine.

A Heartbeat

We saw a heartbeat yesterday. My own heart stopped in anticipation while the doctor was moving around the wand. Finally he said, "And there is the heartbeat." What an amazing, humbling, awe-inspiring thing to see. What a fragile, yet tenacious little being is growing inside me.

I know we're not out of the woods yet, but so far so good.

Keep beating little heart. Get stronger, grow bigger, come meet your Mama.

Fun in the Summertime

I just had to post a picture of S in her new $7.99 Target pool. It will go down as the best purchase of 2006!

Hot Enough for You?

So, it's about 8,000 degrees here in the Silicon Valley this week, and weirdo that I am, I really like it. I would much rather be hot than cold. S and I have been trying to find ways to beat the heat during the day (lots of runs to Target with its heavenly air conditioning), and have decided on a baby pool. We went to her friends' house yesterday where the other mom and I decided to pull out their baby pool and put our poor, flushed, overheated toddlers into it. And, it was heavenly! Not only did it cool off the kids who were adorable as they splashed around in their little swim diapers, but it contained them to one spot. That means that the mommies could sit on our asses and not have to run after them in the oven-like heat. Pure bliss. S had a great time in the pool pretending to give herself a bath.

I was hooked and decided that after naptime, S and I would run to Target (ahh, Target) to get our own baby pool. Now, when is the worst time to buy a baby pool? During a heat wave. Just like with fans -- you can never find a fan during a heat wave or a shovel during a snow storm. Yes, people, I lack foresight. In all my trips to Target, when I passed by aisles filled with baby pools, water wings, slip-n-slides, etc. never once did I think to buy one BEFORE the thermometer hit 98 degrees. Smart. So, anyway, I walk down the kiddie pool aisle, and it's completely decimated. I mean, it's like the looters have been there. I am obviously crestfallen and S is in the cart yelling, "I need pool!" because I stupidly told her ahead of time what we were buying. As I stood staring down the empty aisle, I saw a woman with the ideal baby pool in her basket. I pounced on her asking where she got it -- the poor woman must have seen the crazed look in my eyes and quickly pointed to a bare shelf and then hurried away with her baby pool tucked tightly against her chest. If she hadn't had about 50 lbs. on me, I might have tried to wrestle the pool away. Anyway, as I am sitting there forlornly looking down the aisle, I glance down, and there tucked away behind an air pump (for inflating said pools) is my jewel -- a baby pool that has been taken out of the box. I snatched it up before anyone else could wander down the aisle and get to it before me. With a little further searching, I found the box and the patch kit that comes with the pool. Aha! Mission accomplished!

$7.99 later, we get home and I decide that I need to pump up that pool right away. Once I am finished pumping it up by hand, I put it out back. By this time, it's 6pm and we're on our way out to dinner, so there is no filling it up with water. But, in her excitement, my daughter takes a flying leap and belly flops in the pool. The empty pool. The empty pool sitting on the slate patio. OUCH! R and I look on completely horrified waiting for the inevitable wailing to begin. But, it never comes. S was completely unfazed. In fact, she started pretending to swim in her empty pool. Imagine her joy when we actually fill it with water!

Today I am going to fill the pool with water, put S in the pool, pull up a chair, dip my toes in and just enjoy the arrival of summertime.

Random Randomness

My mind is a disjointed mess right now. Here is just a sampling...

-- Ah, solitude. I practically pushed R and S out the door to take a bike ride tonight. The two of them were making me crazy. There is something so delicious about getting a few minutes alone in the house that I didn't expect or plan for. It's only for a few minutes, but it's heaven.

-- I miss alcohol. All those Italian, French, and Spanish women who continue to drink during their pregnancies have my envy and admiration. I could hurt someone right now for a glass of wine or a vodka tonic. I can almost convince myself that just a little sip can't hurt. But, I didn't drink at all during my pregnancy with S, so I am not going to do differently with this one.

-- My husband is a seriously smart man. R is the smartest man I've ever met which is one reason I married him. That's why I am so confused. When it comes to cleaning the stove, he's a semi-retard. It's unreal. I find egg drippings and grease from quesadillas after he has supposedly "cleaned" the stove. And I am not sure what implement he uses to wipe stuff up, but it's not the clean cloths or towels that I keep handy for such occasions. Instead, he uses the grimiest thing he can find which does nothing but leave disgusting grease streaks all over the place. And, I sit there and tell myself, "Okay, I am NOT going to clean this up. Let him notice how nasty this is and do it himself. He'll see. He won't take for granted anymore that I'll clean up after him." This tactic of course lasts for about 8 minutes until I just can't stand it anymore clean it myself.

-- An old friend of ours is coming tonight and is going to stay with us for about 10 days. Ordinarily, I would be a whirlwind of housecleaning activity in order to prepare for a guest (particularly someone who was in our wedding), but this guy has been living with yaks, so his standards can't be too high. Seriously, with yaks. He's been living in Nepal for the past two years in villages in the Himalayas with indigenous people who don't take baths more than a couple of times a year. So, I am not sweating it. I mean, this place has to look better, right?

-- S has discovered the word "mine" and now uses it indiscriminately for everything. It could belong to anyone, but to her it's "mine." Oh, it makes social situations with other toddlers (like playgroups and birthday parties) so much freakin' fun.

-- I still miss alcohol.

Why I Love You Wednesday -- 06-14-06 Edition

Why I Love You

-- Because you laugh this throaty little giggle when you come down the slide.
-- When you get your milk in the morning, the first thing you want to do is cuddle with me.
-- You love when I rub your back and you try to rub mine too.
-- You're constantly trying to talk me into going to the park -- no matter what time of day or what else we're doing at the moment.
-- You're such a drama queen!
-- You make me laugh and my heart swell even when I am feeling blue.

Two Pink Lines

Two of them. Okay, one was light, but it was still there. So, two of them.

I am so scared. I am so afraid that this one is going to turn out like the last one. I am dreading the phone call from the doctor telling me that the HCG levels aren't growing like they're supposed to. I am freaking out everytime I go to the bathroom, hoping not to see telltale signs in my underwear. I want to rejoice in this, but I can't bring myself to do it.

And, I am scared about a second kid. Some days having just S alone is too much for me to handle with grace and aplomb. I mean, there are days that I lose my shit and yell at her. I hate that I do it, but there it is -- it happens on occasion. Am I really qualified, prepared, or cut out for two of them? Because you have one, does that automatically qualify you to have two? I am not sure.

I wanted this. I want this, I do. I am just freaked about about getting it. A little tiny part of me is rejoicing, but it's being drowned out by the huge part of me wringing its hands and worrying out loud.

Why I Love You Wednesday -- 05-31-06 Edition

Why I Love You

-- Because when you discover that Mamma has a boo-boo, you try to kiss it.
-- Every bug you see is a "Biggg Buggg!"
-- You have inserted jumping into walking. All of a sudden I turn around and you're jumping behind me.
-- You've discovered the words "want" and "need" and aren't afraid to use them. Like when we were out at dinner and you yelled across the table, "MAMMA, I NEED ACQUA!"
-- Because you are sooo into your father these days and it just makes my heart want to burst when I see you two together.

Why I Love You Wednesday -- 05-24-06 Edition

Because you make me laugh!

A Mother's Guilt

As I titled this post, I realized that one could interpret it to mean the guilt that a mother constantly feels with regard to her children. You know, the guilt that keeps us up at night with thoughts such as, "Should I really have let S have two pieces of chocolate cake today?", or "I shouldn't have yelled at S when she refused to get into her car seat today. I am a horrible mother", or "Crap! I forgot to put sunscreen on the baby today." Every mother has these thoughts. And it's a topic worthy of a post. But, it's not the kind of guilt that I am writing about now. Instead, I mean the guilt that a mother foists onto her children. Particularly her adult children. Her adult female children. Who live 3,000 miles away. And have produced the only grandchild in the family.

Yes, I have fallen victim once again to the guilt trip. And, it's not just any guilt trip, but it's the Italian Mother Guilt Trip (IMGT). For some reason, Italian mothers are excellent practicioners of the guilt trip, rivaled only by the Jewish mother. And my mom is no exception. Here is how the conversation went last night...

Mom (with a very practiced nonchalant tone): "Ah, I was wondering were you planning to come home this summer to visit?"

Me (anticipating this question for the past three months): "Well, Mom, I wasn't really planning on it since your house is up for sale. It doesn't really make sense to travel back to NJ to visit you if you're not going to be there."

Mom: "Oh, we'll still be here."

Me (scrambling for another excuse): "Well, I am not sure. I mean, we're taking this vacation in August and R can't take any more vacation."

Mom (with her first blow): "Oh, well I thought we could go to the beach. I mean, I was going to sell the beach house this summer but held off because I thought you or your sister would come home for a visit. R doesn't have to come. You can come out with just S."

Me: "Well, maybe I'll come home in September. I have to see. You know, it's really tough to travel with a two-year old alone."

Mom (with the second part of her one-two punch): "I was thinking that if you came at the end of July, I could fly back to California with you and be there for S's birthday. That way you wouldn't have to fly home alone either."

Me (struggling now): "Well, I'll think about it."

Mom (with the knockout punch): "It's just that I know your grandmother would like to see S and you know I just don't know when she's going to get the chance to see her again. You just never know what could happen. Who knows how much longer your grandmother has. She's keeps asking when she's going to get to see S again."

Me (reeling with realization that I am now getting both the IMGT as well as the IGGT (Italian Grandmother Guilt Trip) by transference): "Um, okay."

I was powerless to resist. I never had a chance. So today I bought S and I two roundtrip tickets to go back to NJ in July to visit my parents and of course my grandmother.

Why I Love You Wednesday -- 05-17-06 Edition

Why I Love You
-- Your newest mantra is "one more" for everything.
-- You hold up your little index finger when you ask for "one more"
-- You refuse to sit still and cuddle in bed with Daddy and me. Our bed is like one big playground to you.
-- You get so excited when we go to Whole Foods and start yelling for the free sample apples as soon as we pull into the parking lot, "Appules! Appules!"
-- When we say our prayers at night and ask God to give us a little brother or sister soon, you have started saying, "little sistu". From your mouth to God's ears, Baby.

There Are No Mommy Sick Days

Uggh, S infected me! Whatever she had earlier this week made its way to me. She no longer has a fever, but now has a remnant cough. I now have the fever and the cough. We're quite a pair right now.

She and I are currently curled up on the couch -- I am resorting to Sesame Street as my babysitter of choice right now. Thank God for free Sesame Street on On Demand. I sometimes wonder if using the television to keep her occupied for a while makes me a bad mom. But, honestly, I feel so crappy right now that I can justify it a dozen different ways.

If I had my choice, S and I would stay in our pajamas all day and watch movie after movie. But we actually have a full day planned including a board meeting for me (I am on the board of the local mothers' club -- I know, it's actually big enough to have a board). I am seriously going to be so worthless at it, but I feel obliged to go.

That is one of the toughest things I have found about being a mom. Before S came along, if I wasn't feeling well, I could just stay home and take care of myself. I could work from home if I wanted to, nap all day long if I wanted to, stay in my jammies all day if I wanted to, and never leave the couch if I wanted to. And, then my husband would take care of me when he came home from work. But, now that I have S, there are really no Mommy Sick Days. It doesn't matter that I feel like ass -- S still needs to be changed, fed, played with, monitored to make sure she doesn't harm herself or anyone else, etc. And, she's too young to understand that Mamma isn't feeling well and that she needs to give me a break. I could probably get my mother-in-law over here to give me a hand, but then I would have to deal with her. She already calls me 2,483 times a day. I don't need to have her in my house, too. But, that's the topic of an entirely separate post...

Introducing "Why I Love You Wednesday"

I've been reading a lot of blogs from other moms, and I really like the idea of having a regular weekly feature like "Chafe My Ass Friday" on BlondeMomBlog and "Wednesday Advice Smackdown" on Amalah. So, I am going to institute "Why I Love You Wednesday" in which I am going to list a couple of things that my daughter is doing to make me laugh, smile, or remind me how much I love her. The reason for this theme is twofold: first, I just don't think I need the pressure to write something funny each week; and second, it will allow me to record all of the little things that S does on a daily basis -- kind of like a little digital baby book. So, here goes...

Why I Love You
-- When I was drying my hair this morning, you made me also dry the hair on Baby Bunny, Mamma Bunny, Raggedy Ann, and Baby Bear.
-- You yell "No" when you're doing something that you know you're not supposed to be doing.
-- You pre-emptively thank me when you want me to do something for you. In other words, if you want me to hold your cup, you first say, "Nanky, Mamma" and then hand me the cup.
-- You call body lotion, shampoo, and hair gel, "soap".
-- You're bossy as hell! All day long it's, "C'mere Mamma!", "Sit Mamma!", and "C'mere Darbu!"
-- You run after Darby trying to pick her up and pet her. I know that it won't be long until you're trying to dress up the poor cat.
-- You think that crackers, carrot slices, cheerios, and Veggie Booty are all cookies and refer to them all as "coo-coos".

There are no stupid questions?

I love the questions I get from my husband when our daughter is sick.

Him: Oh my God, she's burning up. Did you know that?

What I wish I said: Nice detective work, Sherlock. Remember, I am the one who called you at work three hours ago and told you that she had a 102 fever? Oh, and in the course of her crying and clinging to me all afternoon, I was somehow tipped off to her high temperature.

What I actually said: Yeah, I noticed that.



Him: Did you give her medicine?

What I wish I said: No. No I did not. In the time since you left for work this morning I have become a Christian Scientist. So, no, I did not give our feverish, miserable, whining two year old any medicine. She can tough it out.

What I actually said: Um, yeah.

God love him...

Hometown Weekend

Somehow I have found myself in the middle of a Leave It To Beaver life. Well, kinda. I mean, I don't vacuum in pearls like June did. Hell, I don't even vacuum unless threatened or shamed into it. But, what I mean is that I am living this almost idyllic suburban life. I know, I know -- so many folks deride this kind of "soul-less" existence. But, I really can't agree. I like that we live in a safe, clean neighborhood where kids run up and down the street to each others' houses. I like that we can walk to our neigborhood park and that I see half a dozen other moms pushing strollers on the way there. I like that I have a backyard filled with grass, flowers, and plants for my daughter to enjoy and dig in. I know that the detractors of suburbia quote the lack of diversity and culture, but in our little town, I don't feel like we're horribly lacking in those departments. At our playground, you definitely hear as much Spanish, and almost as much Russian and Mandarin as you do English. And, we have a great little downtown filled with a variety of cuisines and a theater that actually gets recognizable artists, comedians, and writers. I mean, I recognize that we don't have the level of cultural sophistication and diversity that our neighbors just 20 miles north in SF do. But, conversely, they don't have some of the advantages that we do here in suburbia. Do I sound a little defensive? Well, maybe -- although, that's not my intent. I am just feeling self-satisfied with the decisions that R and I made about where we were going to live and the lifestyle we were going to have.

Anyway, where was I going with this? Oh, I was going to describe our little suburbia hometown weekend. It was actually fantastic in that from the time we woke up on Saturday until Sunday night, we really didn't get in the car more than once or twice -- almost everything we decided to do was within walking distance. First, we walked our town's annual Pet Parade. That's right -- a Pet Parade. Yes, it's just as silly as you would imagine: people and their pets dressed up in costumes (often matching), contests for the prettiest pet, best costume, the pet that looks most like its owner, etc. It was schlocky and so much fun. S had a great time looking at all the woof-woofs ("dogs" in 1-year-old speak). Um, but note to the event organizers for next year: it's probably not a great idea to do a police dog demonstration to a crowd filled with little kids and toddlers. That's right, they demonstrated how our local police dog could take down a criminal in two seconds flat. In case you don't get the visual on that, imagine an eighty-pound German Shepherd racing across the open field to pounce and detain a "criminal" in front of 30 kids under the age of 10. Fortunately, R and I walked away and kept S from witnessing it once we caught the gist of what was about to happen, but I can just imagine the fear of dogs that took hold in some of those kids during that demonstration!

This weekend was also the festival for the local Catholic church in our neighborhood. It had just what you might expect: rides, games of "skill" and chance, food like cotton candy, snow cones, caramel apples, etc. They call them festivals here, but where I grew up on the East Coast, we called them carnivals. Ah, the church carnival -- so many reminiscences of being thirteen and holding hands with the boyfriend of the week, wondering if perhaps he might sneak you a little peck on the cheek before the end of the night (7pm). I saw so many kids there who reminded me of that time in my life -- only they looked WAY younger! I mean, is it possible that 10 year olds were walking around with boyfriends?! I mean, at 10 years old, I think I was still playing with Barbies. Okay, I was a little on the nerdy side, but still! Anyway, S was way to young to go on any of the rides, but she had a great time watching her dad win stuffed animals for her. And, when it got to be dusk and the older kids started showing up hand-in-hand, we packed her up and strolled back to our house tucked safely into Suburbia.

Random Domesticity

I don't have any real theme for today's post; I just have a series of random thoughts.

Is it totally pathetic that I am ridiculously excited to play hookey from mommy-hood today? I am going with a couple of my mommy friends to lunch and a matinee movie SANS kids! Woo-hoo! Obviously, I love my daughter, but she's in a particularly clingy phase these days. Even now as I type, she's here yelling, "Up-oo, Mamma. Up-oo!". In other words, "Mom, I want to sit in your lap". So, I am typing with a 30lb 20-month old in my lap. Sooo, it will be kinda nice to have a couple of hours in which I have my lap to myself.

Warning: I am about to enter the gushing Mamma zone for a minute here. If you're sickened by mothers' tales of their offsprings' incredibly cute antics, this is not the paragraph for you. Please feel free to skip ahead. Okay, anyway I have to say that at each stage of S's development, I think that she's at the cutest one yet. Right now her communication skills are really starting to blossom -- she's been putting together rudimentary sentences and even using pronouns (apparently a concept that is fairly sophisticated for children first learning language skills). At the playground, she'll stand at the top of the slide and yell at the top of her lungs, "Mamma, I big girl!". Too cute. However, she doesn't quite get all of the rules of pronoun usage. For instance, she loves it when I hide and then jump out yelling, "Boo!". Her response every time is, "I scared me!". Every day brings a new language gaffe that is so adorable -- I have to remember to write them down so that I don't forget them when she's older and her language skills are full of different kinds of interesting nuances (such as, "Mom, why can't I take the car?! That's bull@$*&!").

I pride myself on being a pretty good cook -- I love to eat which is generally half the battle, I believe. Well, my best friend T hails from New Orleans and cooks a mean red beans and rice. Last night I used her recipe and attempted my own red beans and rice. Let's just say that it wasn't my finest showing in the kitchen. Where hers was creamy, mine was pasty. Where hers had a beautiful rich dark red color, mine was more of a sickening brown. Mine looked like refried beans -- which are tasty, but there is a reason that you generally hide them in a tortilla. They just don't look that appetizing. R insisted that it was very tasty (smart man), but I just wasn't very happy about it. I think that next time I will use some slightly different ingredients and make sure to add more water while it simmers. I think that tonight I'll try to redeem myself with one of my old stand-by recipes.

Oh and my final thought for now: is Britney Spears really pregnant again?!? Does anyone else think that's a bad idea on so many levels?

Wallowing

Well, despite my best intentions, I couldn't wait until Sunday to take another pregnancy test. I took one this morning and big surprise, it was negative. Try as I might, I could not detect anything that could possibly be considered a second pink line. I think it's pretty safe to say that I am not pregnant -- given that my period is due tomorrow, I am pretty sure that I would have seen even a very faint line if I were pregnant.

I can't express how bummed I am right now. All I can think about is how easy it is for other folks to get pregnant (like my friends M and T). And, each time I get back a negative test or get my period, the sadness of the miscarriage washes over me again. I keep thinking about how far along in that pregnancy I would be by now (just over the halfway mark).

So, I guess I'll give my doctor a call this week and talk about next steps -- tests, meetings with fertility doctors, etc. He and I talked about this before, but it's time to get new info.

Until then, I'll have a drink at dinner tonight and continue to wallow in my own crapulence...

Okay, let's try this again...

I've been reading all of these wonderful blogs lately and checking out some great podcasts, and I've felt like I really want to start contributing to my own blog again. I think I may need to get over my own perfectionists tendencies -- I am so reticent to publish something that isn't wonderfully witty, insightful, or well-composed that I don't publish anything. Which is really funny because I am certain that I am the only one reading this anyway! But, I am going to put my fears of mediocrity aside and try again with this blog.

So, some of the blogs I've been reading lately have to do with secondary infertility. That is, infertility in folks who have already had a first child, but are having a tough time getting pregant (or staying pregnant) with #2. I am not even sure if our situation could be considered secondary "infertility" -- I haven't gotten an "infertile" diagnosis. But, we are trying for #2 and having a tough time with it. I had heard a bunch of stories about women being super fertile after a miscarriage, successfully acheiving conception the first or second cycle after a miscarriage. So, naturally after our miscarriage in December, I was expecting to get pregnant again right away. Well, here we are three cycles later and still not pregnant.

At least, I don't think we're pregnant. Right now I am experiencing some spotting and I am not sure if it's due to implantation or if it's just the start of my period. Both times I've been pregnant, I had spotting about 10 days after ovulation. However, I also spot a day or so before I get my period. I started spotting on Wednesday and took a pregnancy test (well, actually two of them) which was of course negative. Now I've had light spotting for three days and I have no idea what is going on. I don't want to take another pregnancy test because I don't want to face the disappointment. Plus, my period isn't due until Sunday. If I take a test today and it's negative, I'll be disappointed, but I will still have a glimmer of doubt in my mind, thinking that perhaps it's too early for the test to detect the HCG. Then, if I get my period on Sunday, I'll be disappointed TWICE. So, I am just planning to wait to see if I get it on Sunday -- if not, then I'll take a test.

And, if it's negative on Sunday, then I guess we're back to trying again...

The Heavy Lifting

Wow, I can't believe it has been six weeks since I last wrote. The summer has just flown by with not much happening -- I honestly can't say that anything spectacular kept me from writing. Perhaps that's it -- nothing spectacular happened, and thus I didn't feel compelled to write. There was really nothing to report.

Well, now I feel like writing. Two things have really been occupying my thoughts for the past 24 hours: New Orleans and cancer. They seem like two pretty incongruent things until you realize that both concern very close friends of mine.

My best friend Ti is from New Orleans; she lives in Nashville now, but most of her family still lives back in the greater New Orleans area. My family was on vacation, so I didn't pay a lot of attention to Hurricane Katrina until all of a sudden there were images on TV of New Orleans under double-digit feet of water. The realization that Ti's family was likely affected by this didn't dawn on me all at once, but rather washed over me as I began to understand the implications for her elderly great-aunt living alone in Metarie or her dad in his house on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain. It turns out that her family was able to get out of the city safely, but they can truly be considered refugees now. Their homes and business were badly damaged, if not completely destroyed, and it will be months and months before they're able to rebuild. In the meantime, they're staying with Ti, her husband, and their two toddlers. And in being able to flee the city with their lives, Ti's family can truly be considered the lucky ones...

The footage of people stranded in New Orleans has been heartwrenching, appalling, and maddening. These poor, wretched souls are left without basic human necessities like food and water. They are literally living among their dead. Babies have no food, diapers, or clean water. The elderly are suffering the effects of the elements, dehydration, and malnutrition. There is no potable water supply and NO HELP IN SIGHT! And this is in America!! This enrages me! This tragedy has been going on for four days now -- why hasn't our federal government air-dropped supplies to the folks in the Convention Center and SuperDome? Why haven't we mobilized our troops to go in there, restore order, and provide humanitarian aid? I'll tell you two reasons why our response has been so slow: 1) we're tying up too many of our resources in Iraq where we're unwanted and unsuccessful, and 2) those left behind to suffer in New Orleans are largely black and poor. There is no reason why citizens of the world's richest and most powerful country should be suffering like this and receive such a dwadling response from our federal government.

So, I thank God that Ti's family is safe and healthy. I wish all of them continued strength. I know the next few months will be incredibly difficult, but they will be spending them counting their blessings rather than bemoaning their losses.

As for cancer, I have been thinking about my friend Jen who is undergoing chemotherapy for a rare form of sarcoma. I don't know any other way to express my feelings about this than to say that this sucks. What are the chances that cancer hits two women in a small circle of friends before they're forty? Well, it did. First me, then Jen. In some odd way, I thought that my experience with cancer would mean that none of my friends would have to get it. I know it doesn't make sense rationally, but it's the kind of irrational rationalization that we do, "Well, if I got cancer, the odds are that my friends won't get it, so I got it out of the way for all of us. Okay, I've got cancer covered, can someone else take on infertility? How about divorce? Anyone?" I mean, it makes no sense, but these are the kinds of things that we tend to think. Anyway, Jen underwent surgery in March, and we were hoping that she could keep the cancer at bay and not have to undergo chemo. Well, it turns out that a recent test showed that the cancer was back and they decided to start chemo. Having the perspective of a cancer/chemo survivor, I know in exactly how many ways chemo sucks. And I am so sorry that anyone I know, much less love, has to go through with it. But, my friend Jen is a testament to the human spirit. Even before the whole cancer thing intruded into her life, she was one of the most effervescent, upbeat, positive people I have ever met. She is one of those folks who collects friends wherever she goes because people just love being around her. And bless her, that attitude has not changed even in the face of cancer. She starts her second round of chemo next week, and I pray that it goes as well as the first, and that she is able to continue working and exercising as she did after her first round. But, even if she gets down physically, I expect her to stay up mentally. And if she can't, I promise to help with the heavy lifting of her spirits.