Slouching Towards Equality

Wednesday marked the one-year anniversary of the day Homestead Mama and I adopted each other's kids. Thursday California upheld Prop 8.



May 27, 2008 was a beautiful sunny day, we had a wonderful lawyer, a happy judge, and the kids hadn't spilled anything on themselves before the event. We had six amazing letters from our friends and family written with such love in support of the decision to help make the judge's job easier. My parents both travelled to join us in the celebration, and we had a big party and a champagne toast. It is still a momentous occasion in my life, becoming legally bound to my daughter. We'll actually celebrate on father's day, or "Family Day", as it is called chez Homestead.



I know that if you read this blog you are likely empathetic to our situation. Still, though, when the opportunity presents itself be sure to vote, and vote often. If Homestead Mama and I could get married, we wouldn't have had to pay $3,000 and wait 2 years to be the legal parent of a kid we have breastfed since they were born (to another person). There are still states that we shouldn't even drive through lest we have an accident and the hospital chooses to disregard our legal-in-NY adoptions.



There is no agreeing to disagree, no religious justification that makes a hetero couple more/ differently deserving than us - the fact remains that it hurts my children and my family every day that H-Mama and I can't get married.



My love and thanks to all who celebrated with my family last year, support us every day with their friendship and laughter, and support us at the polls. I'm hoping that Obama decides, in the beginning of his second term when he isn't worried about re-election, to work tirelessly towards a federal legalization of gay marriage.

Savages

My kids eat like savages, wandering around, playing, doing gymnastics between bites. While they are pretty good at making it to their mouths and are excellent at sponging messes up, there is inevitable fallout. H-Mama is about to explode at all the sticky fingerprints, gooey spots, and food stuck in odd places. Its our fault, and I'm about to fix it. We spent the morning cleaning, painting, doing puzzles and throwing things away. Right before lunch we boiled some noodles and they helped me make pesto. Tearing the leaves off basil is something they are eminently qualified to do, and dropping ingredients into the food processor is their favorite thing ever. We then (drum roll) sat at the dining room table in high chairs while they ate. Easy. Monito got down after 8 minutes, Pequita had a potty break after 9 minutes but came back for more. Stay tuned - next we learn "May I please be excused?"

Migraine

Blogging will resume when this freaking killer migraine releases me from its chokehold. Its been 2 days so far. It is hard to be upright, let alone a sane, rational parent, when I can barely open my eyes. Allergies, a pox on you!

Sleepy

The kids opted to sleep in their big kid beds again tonight. We read and nursed in the big bed, then moved them into the nursery, tucked them in and went downstairs. At this point they both ran weeping to the gate at the top of the stairs and screamed and wailed. I sighed, looked longingly at my birthday cake waiting for me, and went upstairs. I grabbed my book and a flashlight and went in and sat on the chair in the nursery, not talking to them but just being present while I read; they got it right away and were ok with this new set up. They wanted to get in bed together for a while, and that really helped them calm right down. After about 10 minutes, Monito was all but asleep and Pequita chose to move back into her own bed. I stayed for another 15 minutes while she did her deep breathing, sang quietly to herself and really respected the fact that I wasn't going to interact with her. Finally she dozed off.

Then I snuck downstairs and had a big piece of cake.

Forty

It was a super day to turn 40. Mostly sunny, warm, busy, full of activities and fun. We went out to my favorite breakfast place, at which the kids kept right up with us and ate guacamole & cheddar omelet, fruit crepes, and garlic toast with melted gruyere. I LOVE how they eat. Pequita disappeared after the meal and I found her here, having pulled up a chair next to the live entertainment. The pianist was letting her accompany him as she saw fit; she was having a ball. Then home for naps, yardwork and out to a barbecue where we got to socialize with friends, the kids got to experience some Lord of the Flies action in the sandbox while the parents were drinking sangria, and best of all I didn't have to host it or clean up after it.

Since it is a long weekend, we're having our friend's adorable 12 year old come over tomorrow morning. The kids love him, and he'll be helping us out however he wants, either weeding and planting or playing with the kids. If all goes well, the landscaper will be coming at the end of the week with BIG MACHINES to prepare a chunk of our yard for a deck/terrace outside of where our new French doors will be installed later in the summer. To prepare for this, we have to move several plants to a safe location until after the work is done, then we'll re-landscape the area. They are going to do in one day what it would, realistically, take me a couple years to do. I cannot wait. I will post before and after pictures. There is still so much left to do on our house that it is hard to see how far we've come, but it is a warm, comfortable, funky farmhouse with lots of charm and a ton of individuality. If I could just purge the clutter. I'm actually seriously considering pulling an "HGTV" on a few of our rooms; emptying everything - but everything - out of a room, finishing anything that needs to be completed, like painting, baseboards, etc. and putting back in only what fits and works. It is appealing to think about. Turbo-purge.

The day ended with cake with my sweetie. I wanted the same cake my mom used to make for me every year, strawberry cheesecake. I always thought it was some yummy secret recipe. I've never made it for myself, but after doing so last night I found the exact recipe in the Joy of Cooking called Sour Cream Cheesecake. It was heavenly, and made me feel like I was seven again [in the good way]. Home made from the graham cracker crust up to the layer of sweetened sour cream baked on the top, I may make it for myself every year forever. The rhubarb next to it will become other delicious things in the next few days, like upside down strawberry rhubarb cake, rhubarb sauce for ice cream or pancakes, pie and shortcake. Admit it, you wished you lived closer, right?

Big Kid Beds

We've had the nursery set up with two toddler beds for months. No one has ever slept in that room ever; there has only been lots of playing on beds, on the car mat on the floor, and much diaper changing. All the sleeping [or lack thereof] happens in the master bedroom, where our queen sized bed is flanked by two cribs. Thank goodness our bedroom is huge. We have snuggle time in the big bed, kids go down into their cribs, when they wake up sometime between 11 pm and 3 am they get pulled into our bed for the night.

For the last few nights, both kids have had a really hard time falling asleep. Even though we start stories around 7pm and Monito falls asleep by 8ish, Pequita is averaging 10:30 for her fall asleep time. This includes many summons to H-Mama to come upstairs. I just found out - after months of not being the chosen parent at night - that H-Mama has been nursing her, reading to her after we put her down, all the things I thought we agreed not to do. Apparently, *I* agreed not to do them but she only nodded without conviction.

Tonight, we put them down to much complaining and came downstairs to do some baking and food prep for a barbecue tomorrow. They cried a little on and off, sang to themselves, cried a little more, and then Monito started calling Help! Help, Mommy! with some vigor. I decided to go up, and was met at the top of the stairs by both kids. Out of their cribs and crying hard. Apparently, Pequita decided she was really and truly a big girl and climbed out of her baby cage; she then either helped Monito out of his crib or he just didn't want to be left behind, but he had a little trouble vaulting over the bars and called me up for help. The crying was happening because now that they were out of their cribs they were afraid of 'horns', the catch-all imaginary being that is the source of all their fear. Also, I think they were a bit surprised and scared by their successful rebellion. They have been pushing limits all day every day for weeks. In the course of nursing them into a calm place, we figured out that Pequita wanted to sleep in the nursery in her toddler bed. Monito just wanted to sleep where his sister was. So into the nursery we trooped, set up a fan for them and got them settled. Monito was asleep in a couple minutes and Pequita had her final summons for H-Mama at 10: 45 pm. They are still asleep at 11:53 [and why am I not asleep you might ask? Stupidity, pure and simple.] Talk about a milestone! I have no illusions that it can possibly be this simple, but wouldn't it be nice if this stuck? I'll try to get a picture, but mostly I'm afraid of rocking the boat with my flash.

Advanced Computing

After playing on the library computers, and being shown this site Pequita is keenly excited about doing some computer work. Does anyone have a toddler keyboard /mouse and like it or hate it?

Also, anyone have good toddler computer sites to recommend?

Glass 15% Full or 85% Empty?

After checking out the quality of the thawed embryos, the doc upped my odds to 15 percent chance of success. Huzzah. Alert the presses.



I showed up at 8:30 am with full bladder as required and had to shuffle down the hall in my robe and disposable slippers twice to decant a bit before the doc was ready for me at 10am. I was lying there in a cocoon of warm blankets surrounded by muzak and dimmed lights relaxing as much as one can while wondering how many women in this situation actually wet themselves. By the time the procedure was done I could barely keep from vaulting off the table and sprinting to the bathroom. The doc leaned in close and clasped my hand warmly, smiled and said, "everything looks great. Stay laying here for 20 minutes and visualize peace and success" to which I smiled wanly. I choose to believe that all the jiggling I did trying to keep it together until I could relieve myself only increased my chances of success. I was only able to visualize torrential floods and oceans crashing.



Each time you go in for embryo transfer at this clinic you are given a color printout of the embryos with which they are working that day. Nice propaganda, and it does ramp up the excitement. I appreciate all the effort this office makes to be positive and encouraging. This is far preferable to cold and clinical. BUT. This isn't a magical process its a scientific one; I avoided the mental trap of magical thinking by reading blogs and playing Tetris on my phone during my wait instead of meditating on a process over which I have no control. I'm a rebel, I know.

Early

I forget how much I love quiet late nights, no matter if the quiet allows me to hear crunching snow or crickets. I forget how much I really love quiet early mornings, sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee and ignoring my crossword to watch a robin gather breakfast for her nest full of hungry mouths, or observe the parade of turkeys, groundhogs, rabbits, and deer meander through the salad our new plantings offer before I release the hounds into the yard.
Today, at least, I am remembering.

Naked Noodle

Guess who fell, fully dressed, into the shallows of the icy lake at the park today by accident? She had a super time once we stripped the soaking clothes from her body.

Backpeddling

Open blog, insert foot. I clearly overstated the amount of negativity
I've received, since no one who emailed me distressed at the thought
of hurting my feelings is someone who actually hurt my feelings. I am
so grateful for the support I have. I am sorry to have made people
worry about what they said, how they may have phrased something in a
conversation with me about me trying for a third. My last post was
vague, and I'd like to clarify a bit.

Me sharing my decision to try* to grow my family invites others to
imagine themselves in that position. For most folks, that causes some
chuckling, disbelief, and bemused comments. My posse of mom friends
and close bosom friends** are in that category. This has been ok - it
IS a lot to take on and I know they will rejoice at the new baby
should we get lucky. Even my mom thought it was nuts, and, um, I am
one of three kids.

The people who have hurt my feelings have not seemed to be imagining
themselves with 3 kids, they have seemed genuinely upset that I would
do 'that' to my existing kids, my relationship (wtf?), the earth***,
myself, my career, etc. What they perceive 'that' to be is beyond me;
I am far from the first person to have a 3rd kid, and many folks
actually like a bigger family. Someone that I hang out with fit all
the following comments into a 7 minute conversation we had; I had
mentioned, when she encouraged me to get a tiny sedan, that we were
getting the Mazda 5 because it will hold a 3rd car seat if need be.
"Oh my god, that is so irresponsible. Your older kids will never get
enough of your time. I can't believe you're serious about that - in
this day and age it is stupid to put that kind of burden on yourself
and your family. And it wouldn't even be an accident because you're
gay!".

Ahem.

Those of you who have emailed me an apology because you may have
teased me or asked if I'm sure about this? Really, don't worry.

I don't want anyone to shy away from me about this. Most of the not
talking about it is because even in the best of cases getting pregnant
is fraught with failure. A 10 percent chance of success is not that
great. Blogging about it is easy - I get to control the flow of
information. There's nothing quite so awful as having to tell someone
about a miscarriage when they ask how the baby making is going. In
this sense, I'm an idiot for telling anyone we're trying at all. It is
my curse, and some may argue my blessing, that I am pretty open and
invite folks into my life. If I really wanted full privacy, I'd say
nothing (although my head would explode after a day or two).

*our history of infertility is hard to shake. In pro creation, nothing
is a sure thing, ever.

**if you thought that 'bosom friends' are some weird lesbian thing,
culture up! Read the Anne of Green Gables series.

***I have two child less-by-choice friends who have assured me I am
not over populating the earth. They have given me their baby rights,
so my baby footprint will not be a burden. You know, like emissions
trading to cap pollutants. (Hah ha - get it - emissions trading?).
this means that any other kid I may have has some pretty serious
built-in fairy godmothers.

Third Time is the Charm

I never know how to approach blogging about our attempts at advanced procreation. It is a sensitive matter, and this blog is, sadly, not terribly private. I very much want to blog about the things going on in my life - this blog is my record, my diary, my manner of keeping in touch with friends all over the world, and since we had Pequita, one of the only references that help me remember a huge amount of what goes on in my life. Mommy-brain, indeed. But with the attempt at a third kid? Mostly I don't want to talk about this issue in real life unless I bring it up.

The few people IRL [in real life vs. online, Mom] I've told about our plans to try for a third have almost to the one been aghast, surprised, they've burst into laughter, told me I was crazy, told me to definitely not go through with it. I hear a lot of, "Oh my god, you can have mine! He's acting up so much lately!" Hardy har har. It all feels negative. This means that sadly, most of my IRL friends won't hear any news about this until after I successfully pass an amnio. This means I'll be a bit lonely in the process, which means my desire to blog is all the stronger. I guess I'm a little thin skinned about this. Mostly, I want to point out to everyone with an asshat response that I'm not the bloody first person to try for/ have a third kid. I have wanted this for decades; I know it will be hard/ nuts/ crazy-making. I nonetheless reserve the right to mourn a bit if I fail at this attempt and also to whine a bit about how awful some of it is should we be so lucky to succeed.

I have been trying to talk myself out of wanting a third kid since I delivered Monito; there are a lot of reasons not to, but just as many good reasons to go ahead and give it a go. I really feel that I was born for this. I am good at it. We already have an embarrassment of riches - two of the most beautiful, clever, athletic children ever. If we stop with that, my life will be rich. If we are lucky enough to have a third? My lifetime dreams will be coming true.

I am doing an unmedicated FET cycle, and I will be transferring two 5-day thawed blasts on Saturday morning with a 1O% chance of successfull pregnancy. We'll have to bring the kids to the appointment since we can't get a trusted person to sit with them at the ass-crack of dawn. I've had no meds until now, and since ovulation I'm doing the low-dose aspirin, PIO [progesterone in oil] injection routine until transfer; after that we'll keep an eye on my levels and deal with any issues as they come.

Tonight Homestead Mama went to bed early with a bad stomach ache, which hopefully won't manifest into Monito's bug. I was unable to convince her to give me my PIO shot before she collapsed, so I had to [gulp] give it to myself. Large bore needle. Viscous oily med. Thank goddess for my ample behind - the needle is most of the length of my thumb. Ouch.

Big Girl

Pequita is using the mouse to click and drag a Barney game at the library. She is so proud, and repeating loudly the praise the computer gives at the end of each 'match the vegetable' game, "GOOD JOB, MOMMY! WELL DONE, MOMMY! FUN FUN FUN!".

This is a riot. She is so excited by this new kind of success. We'll have to start looking for home games and a kids keyboard/ mouse for the computer, maybe for her birthday in October. (Hear that, Grandma?)

Cheery

He may be still sick, but he is cheered by his new helmet and insisted on wearing it shopping.

Green in the Gills

Homestead Mama out of town, no help on hand, one boob almost out of commission due to some weird occurrence of blocked ducts that I am almost over - THAT is when the boy gets a stomach virus. He woke up at the usual 10 pm-ish for his nursing/snuggle time, then sat up and hurled all over me, the couch, and the carpet. Oy. We cleaned up, laid down some waterproofing on the bed and went to sleep. We were up again at 2, 4, and 6. He had such explosive diarrhea that I had to wash his hair in the tubby. He tolerated all the ministrations and tending very well, clearly out of sorts. All he wanted to do was nurse and snuggle. He was up by 7:30, but Thomas the Tank Engine came on and he watched it with no volume happily while Pequita and I dozed. I called H-Mama in the Adirondacks as soon as it was a decent hour begging her to hurry her work up and come home to spell me. I was pretty sure that more than one puking person at a time would have put me over the edge.

After a lunchtime of only ginger ale ["Spicy soda, Mommy! More spicy soda!"] Monito crashed for nap in the living room, and Pequita soon followed. We slept in the living room because every single stitch of bedding, all my towels, and all my chux pads were soaked with assorted bodily fluids. Also the carpet runner in the master bedroom, but who's counting? So I did laundry while the bairn slept for two hours.After nap they played with the new Playmobil camping set. It was fortuitous that I bought it on the off chance they'd sit still long enough to play with it; Monito had no energy and was happy with it, and Pequita just loves the tiny parts these days. Since she ate only a half of a banana today, I'm pretty sure she's about to fall prey to the bug as well. The house rule is don't encourage them to eat if they seem ambivalent.

By the time Homestead Mama arrived home, Monito was feeling better enough to join in on the mowing extravaganza.



Here's hoping we make it through the night uneventfully.