Christmas break: "I'm going to relaunch my blog" January: "I'm going to pay for a second child by selling LuLaRoe" February: "I'm going to...lose 15 pounds, teach 43 kids how to read daily, keep up with all the paperwork/data being a teacher requires, run a successful side business, be a good wife, raise a toddler, feed the dog at least every other day, shave my legs once in a blue moon, relaunch my blog, and start saving for a second child by selling clothes everyday" April: "So, Rudy, I'm feeding you because I honestly can not tell you the last time I saw actual edible food in your bowl. Also, what's the calorie count in a container of Puffs? Because I'm pretty sure that's what I fed Luke for dinner tonight.
This is real life. I can't keep up with my surroundings, much less find the time to write about it.
For those of you who are new, WELCOME! I'm Kristin. I'm 30--something. One, maybe? I'm a 5th grade teacher, LuLaRoe retailer, wife of a police officer, and mama to a one-year-old. I started this blog over three years ago right after I experienced my first miscarriage. Fast forward three years and four miscarriages, I managed to blog my way through my entire In Vitro Fertilization journey in order to get the aforementioned Luke Peebles. All of my posts are archived, so feel free to backtrack and catch up. In a nutshell, it was mostly about my cookie, exaggerated whining, and general frustrations during gynecological visits. Good times.
I'm currently seriously struggling with the decision to start the process for a second child. Being as I have zero fallopian tubes, the only way I can ever conceive and carry a baby is through IVF. Basically, unless Mike's sperm can re enact the ending to every action movie ever made and do some crazy, slow-motion jump from the end of my egg to my uterus, there's no way for it to happen for us until we fork over some ungodly amount of money for a doctor to hand deliver our frozen (and thawed!) embryo to my cozy, Yankee Candle "Home Sweet Home" smelling girly parts. It worked for Luke, obviously, so duh! of course his home of 39 weeks smelled appealing and not, uterusy. For so long I wanted three children so I could be surrounded by a huge family once they all had their own kids. Take into account the "Disney Theory", meaning, every Disney movie I watched as a kid had the main character's parents/parent die but it was okay, because they always had siblings around to help them make their dreams come true. Then take into account Belle, an only child, who lived a horrible life with a monster while her father was locked away and random dirty dishes kept her entertained so how stable was she, really? Scary thought. Anyway, I think about the future and don't want Luke to be alone to remember all of the weirdness that was his parents.
This has been weighing heavily on my mind recently, as we are in open enrollment for group insurance now. I carry myself and Luke, am also a fully-employed, tax-paying citizen, so of course my premium is jumping through the roof. Nothing, NOTH-ING grinds my gears more than going into my doctor's office and seeing/hearing so many other patients not having to pay a dime for whatever they need and me over there, sacrificing my monthly Clinique budget just to pay a copay. My oily, giant pores do not appreciate you, outrageous insurance companies! It's just not right. And to think by having a second child, everything is going to double. What kind of world are we living in?!
Here's what's new with me: TMJ aka, temporomandibular joint pain, aka, "my jaw hurts". (My life can be described as a series of abbreviations. "KTP BS IVF TMJ NBC CBS ESPN") Do you ever have weird dreams? Of course you do. Mine are usually about teeth. You may recall my 2010 blog mylovelybrokenface.blogspot.com that tells the tale of me having braces as an adult and living through jaw surgery. (Wait, so I have two blogs literally about me from one opening end to the other?! Yikes.) Ever since having both my upper and lower jaws broken and adjusted due to an underbite, I've worn my retainers at night like the quirky, 13-year-old adolescent I am. I dream all the time though about them moving, my teeth falling out, my jaws moving, etc. (When Googled--instead of asking my dentist like a regular person--I've found that it's my subconscious telling me I can't "sink my teeth into" a certain situation. How insightful, Dearest Google.
Over Spring Break, I woke up one morning and my jaws wouldn't budge. Like, I couldn't yawn, chew, yell. It was scary. Scary painful. Luckily, I had a dentist appointment (with a real live person) two days later and come to find out, it's TMJ pain from me clenching my teeth at night--all due to stress. I'd been having neck soreness (also due to stress) and apparently, it crept its way up my face. Nice. The solution? Muscle relaxers to take as needed and for every night.
One can simply say, while I can easily down any type of edible item that is classified as a carbohydrate in massive quantities, I can not hold onto the following things: alcohol, pain killers, and dignity when around any sort of male with any type of moderate attractiveness (i.e.-the Justin Timberlake calamity of 1998). The first time I took a pill, I slept on the sofa for two and a half hours and then moved to the bed to catch 12 more hours of uninterrupted Z's. The next day, I started to giggle 15 minutes post-pill (and didn't stop until 15 minutes before the next pill the next day) Two weeks later, I pop one and it's a sense of calm I haven't felt since Wendy's brought back the Taco Salad last summer (Can I get an 'amen'?). Somebody at work said recently, "you sure are smiling an awful lot" ...MAYBE BECAUSE, I CAN'T FEEL MY FACE WHEN I'M WITH YOU...is what I'm secretly singing off-key in my brain.
My jaw hurt is gone. I'm sleeping like a newborn baby who doesn't get woken up to be fed every 2 hours like they're supposed to be so instead the parents can sleep just a tad bit longer and oh well, who needs to eat that often anyway, I'm not raising a tubby. (Sorry-flashback to Day 4 of "Baby Peebles Comes Home") My neck pain is gone. I'm basically a delightful, grinny, blob of jelly bones sharing all that sunshine with whomever I come in contact with. For now, all the worries I have about "DO WE" or "DON'T WE" will have to take the back burner. I've fed the dog. Luke is functioning. The "lose 15 pounds" is going well; if you consider the "going well" part gaining two pounds. My kids at school can read and I'm selling clothes. Plus, I'm publishing this post. I'd say I'm pretty much nailing it.
This is real life. I can't keep up with my surroundings, much less find the time to write about it.
For those of you who are new, WELCOME! I'm Kristin. I'm 30--something. One, maybe? I'm a 5th grade teacher, LuLaRoe retailer, wife of a police officer, and mama to a one-year-old. I started this blog over three years ago right after I experienced my first miscarriage. Fast forward three years and four miscarriages, I managed to blog my way through my entire In Vitro Fertilization journey in order to get the aforementioned Luke Peebles. All of my posts are archived, so feel free to backtrack and catch up. In a nutshell, it was mostly about my cookie, exaggerated whining, and general frustrations during gynecological visits. Good times.
I'm currently seriously struggling with the decision to start the process for a second child. Being as I have zero fallopian tubes, the only way I can ever conceive and carry a baby is through IVF. Basically, unless Mike's sperm can re enact the ending to every action movie ever made and do some crazy, slow-motion jump from the end of my egg to my uterus, there's no way for it to happen for us until we fork over some ungodly amount of money for a doctor to hand deliver our frozen (and thawed!) embryo to my cozy, Yankee Candle "Home Sweet Home" smelling girly parts. It worked for Luke, obviously, so duh! of course his home of 39 weeks smelled appealing and not, uterusy. For so long I wanted three children so I could be surrounded by a huge family once they all had their own kids. Take into account the "Disney Theory", meaning, every Disney movie I watched as a kid had the main character's parents/parent die but it was okay, because they always had siblings around to help them make their dreams come true. Then take into account Belle, an only child, who lived a horrible life with a monster while her father was locked away and random dirty dishes kept her entertained so how stable was she, really? Scary thought. Anyway, I think about the future and don't want Luke to be alone to remember all of the weirdness that was his parents.
This has been weighing heavily on my mind recently, as we are in open enrollment for group insurance now. I carry myself and Luke, am also a fully-employed, tax-paying citizen, so of course my premium is jumping through the roof. Nothing, NOTH-ING grinds my gears more than going into my doctor's office and seeing/hearing so many other patients not having to pay a dime for whatever they need and me over there, sacrificing my monthly Clinique budget just to pay a copay. My oily, giant pores do not appreciate you, outrageous insurance companies! It's just not right. And to think by having a second child, everything is going to double. What kind of world are we living in?!
Here's what's new with me: TMJ aka, temporomandibular joint pain, aka, "my jaw hurts". (My life can be described as a series of abbreviations. "KTP BS IVF TMJ NBC CBS ESPN") Do you ever have weird dreams? Of course you do. Mine are usually about teeth. You may recall my 2010 blog mylovelybrokenface.blogspot.com that tells the tale of me having braces as an adult and living through jaw surgery. (Wait, so I have two blogs literally about me from one opening end to the other?! Yikes.) Ever since having both my upper and lower jaws broken and adjusted due to an underbite, I've worn my retainers at night like the quirky, 13-year-old adolescent I am. I dream all the time though about them moving, my teeth falling out, my jaws moving, etc. (When Googled--instead of asking my dentist like a regular person--I've found that it's my subconscious telling me I can't "sink my teeth into" a certain situation. How insightful, Dearest Google.
Over Spring Break, I woke up one morning and my jaws wouldn't budge. Like, I couldn't yawn, chew, yell. It was scary. Scary painful. Luckily, I had a dentist appointment (with a real live person) two days later and come to find out, it's TMJ pain from me clenching my teeth at night--all due to stress. I'd been having neck soreness (also due to stress) and apparently, it crept its way up my face. Nice. The solution? Muscle relaxers to take as needed and for every night.
One can simply say, while I can easily down any type of edible item that is classified as a carbohydrate in massive quantities, I can not hold onto the following things: alcohol, pain killers, and dignity when around any sort of male with any type of moderate attractiveness (i.e.-the Justin Timberlake calamity of 1998). The first time I took a pill, I slept on the sofa for two and a half hours and then moved to the bed to catch 12 more hours of uninterrupted Z's. The next day, I started to giggle 15 minutes post-pill (and didn't stop until 15 minutes before the next pill the next day) Two weeks later, I pop one and it's a sense of calm I haven't felt since Wendy's brought back the Taco Salad last summer (Can I get an 'amen'?). Somebody at work said recently, "you sure are smiling an awful lot" ...MAYBE BECAUSE, I CAN'T FEEL MY FACE WHEN I'M WITH YOU...is what I'm secretly singing off-key in my brain.
My jaw hurt is gone. I'm sleeping like a newborn baby who doesn't get woken up to be fed every 2 hours like they're supposed to be so instead the parents can sleep just a tad bit longer and oh well, who needs to eat that often anyway, I'm not raising a tubby. (Sorry-flashback to Day 4 of "Baby Peebles Comes Home") My neck pain is gone. I'm basically a delightful, grinny, blob of jelly bones sharing all that sunshine with whomever I come in contact with. For now, all the worries I have about "DO WE" or "DON'T WE" will have to take the back burner. I've fed the dog. Luke is functioning. The "lose 15 pounds" is going well; if you consider the "going well" part gaining two pounds. My kids at school can read and I'm selling clothes. Plus, I'm publishing this post. I'd say I'm pretty much nailing it.
