42 Years and 1 Month

Today, I had my 'teaching' appointment with the doctor. It was for learning how to give myself shots and my fertility medication schedule. However, when they asked, "So how's everything going?" I lost it.

I just started crying and crying.
I cried because my home is a storm of flooded damaged furniture and construction.
I cried because I have a deductible to pay before they continue their work.
I cried because someone stole my debit card number and depleted my account.
I cried because if it wasn't for face book I may never know what my family looks like or what they are doing.
I cried because I had to beg for help from my administration while other people have 6 conference periods to collect data???
I cried because I simply needed to cry.

After all of this crying and trying to apologize for it over and over, the doctor and nurse said that I was "admirable for being so head strong and not giving up, but lets face it you've waited 42 years what is one more month to deal with all of this stress and get back to a clear head. After all, stress can just add to any infertility issues."



Well...I lost it AGAIN. The tears came AGAIN...
"What if I fail at getting pregnant?"
"What if something else goes wrong?" 
 "What if something happens again with my house or my car or my who knows what?"
I love this attitude and reply I got from the doctor and nurse...
"Well dear, it might, but by then you will be pregnant, and everyone will think your crying is sweet and endearing."


"Oh, and by the way...you might become more emotional with the meds."

WHAT?!?!?!

Lil Wayne + Moo Goo Gai Pan = a 'showty' with indigestion

When I was young my generation had 'Candid Camera', and this generation has 'Punked'. Sometimes I feel like I am getting 'punked'. Tonight was a great example. I eat Chinese food maybe 3 times a year and tonight was one of those nights, but I'm pretty sure Ashton K was with friends in the kitchen watching my mother and my reactions to the staff. (I know. I'm not famous, but still the thought crosses my mind when oddball events occur.) My mother and I met for dinner at one of the few Chinese restaurants I like to eat at,  and we were literally the only customers in the entire restaurant. Our waiter stayed on the phone, while we waited for 25 minutes for our appetizers. The hostess sat at the sushi bar and balanced her checkbook. The 3rd employee hung out behind the sushi bar talking to the chick balancing her checkbook. Every one was dressed for mid day college wear, and as my mother and I waited and waited and waited we realized that they were enjoying some Lil Wayne in the restaurant.

Now call me crazy, but here are my music rules for restaurants.
Italian restaurant = Italian music
BBQ restaurant = country music
Mexican restaurant = Mexican music
AND... Chinese restaurant = Chinese music

This is your brain. This is your brain on middle school.

The first day of school is so exhilarating and exhausting for teachers. I can only imagine what the little people (i.e. 6th, 7th, and 8th graders) must be thinking and feeling. Everyone is on information overload, they are thrown all of these rules and expectations as a school, their memorization is maxed out with where each class is, what their locker combo might be (it was always the luck of the draw for me), now they have to remember a pin for their lunch purchases, then there is of course each teachers name and expectations for their subject with the notion that they can get from point A to point B in 5 minutes, socialize, and possibly go to the restroom and remain cool looking.


                              (For some female brain replace the sports section with shopping/gossiping.)


  Combine all of these ingredients with confusing, raging hormones and peer pressure...Geez LuWeeeeeez...No wonder middle school kids are "bipolar" appearing and acting. They have a lot to deal with and half of the time they can not even explain themselves because it is so hormonally driven. So...if you are exposed to one of these 'little people' be aware, be patient, be kind, be on guard...they can love you as fast as they hate you...but remember you were once one of them too.

Waterfalls, Toilets, and Reality...OH MY!

Waterfalls...beautiful tranquil waterfalls what a lovely dream. Oh wait, that's my toilet tank running not a waterfall. What a disappointment to wake up from a lovely sounding dream to the reality of your toilet water running. IF ONLY. The true reality was when I woke up from my beautiful waterfall dream and got out of bed to jiggle the toilet handle, my toilet tank had busted and had been flooding my bathroom, bedroom, and 3/4 of my downstairs for hours. That's right... my house had apparently been flooding for a couple of hours while I dreamt of tranquil waterfalls...so much for the benefits of being a heavy sleeper.

So here are a few things I learned:

1.) Blessings, sometimes, have to be found w/a fine tooth comb. Thank God I was home when this happened to save my dog and pictures.

2.) Family pictures become your most important possession at 3am

3.) I have some very amazing and selfless friends in my life - my friends have checked on me every day (a simple text message goes a long way), helped me work on a Saturday, offered me their homes, and some have even offered to take care of the Corgi.

4.) Only I could have a flood during a Texas drought!

5.) Where & how to turn off my main water line

I Spoke The First Spanglish

Well, I'm back in the saddle again. We returned to school yesterday to meet new principals, teachers, and get ready for the school year. I was a little concerned about being down about this summer's events with the fertility issue, but I have to admit it was sooooo nice having something else to think about for a few hours.

One of the activities we had to begin with was bonding with each other in small group. We were put in groups by colors we had on us and were told to share why we are in education. There I stood, knowing why, but to put it into words to share with a group of my own peers is a whole other challenge...so I thought long and hard about this before I stepped up to speak, and then I remembered where and when it all began...

               (Insert time travel music)

Can you picture it? A little girl playing pretend school with crayons, chalk, and any loose paper in the house and of course the plastic high heel shoes from TG&Y?  That was me- Except I made up my own Spanish language. You see I grew up in The Heights the first 8 years, which is near downtown Houston, and in the early 1970’s it was pretty mixed with Italians and Latinos/Mexicans, so I heard a lot of Spanish at the grocery store, park, and on the streets playing. So when I would play pretend school in my bedroom I spoke Spanish or what I thought was Spanish. Now known to everybody as Spanglish. I taught in Spanglish. I disciplined in Spanglish. I even had parent and teacher conferences in Spanglish (I played both roles). And of course I had my handy dandy Drowsy Doll as the teacher's pet. She ran all the errands for me in our little two bedroom apartment.

Drowsy Doll...the best friend and teacher's pet a girl could have. A gift at my 1st birthday by the way.

That was my early childhood. Playing 'pretend school' as much as possible. Being sweet and loving and patient to all of my students. The ironic part was, while I was escaping into my make believe classroom, my father was in the next room tormenting my mother. And so it began, my escape into a world where small groups of people listened to me (of course they were stuffed and couldn't speak); a world where small groups of people needed and liked me (of course I owned them); and a world where my father didn't hit or call any of us names.

So there I stood in front of my coworkers, new principal, and lets face it people I still didn't trust after working together for 4 years...and they wanted me to say in 60 seconds or less how and why I am in education. 

So I told them about my old Spanglish Days...and because of those days I can see in my students' who has to escape from reality too and this is why I belong in the classroom.

Sidenote: I know real Spanish words now. Thank you Cheech and Chong movies!

Defeated & Gabbana in a size 8 please!

One of the many issues you deal with when TTC(trying to conceive) is doubt. In the beginning (hopefully just the beginning) you doubt everything about yourself b/c it is a path you probably didn't expect to be on, so you are start to blame yourself for all that goes wrong and doubt any decisions you have ever made. Today was one of those days. I waited for a hysteroscopy , had an IV in me, gowned up for surgery, and suddenly was told to go home they couldn't perform the procedure due to some medication I had taken days before.

Defeated floated above my head in a speech bubble. However, I am blessed to have a mother who takes off from work to be my taxi on these trips and who has always tried to make up for the heartache I've endured in this life...of course she has probably aged quicker than she should thanks to her always doing that. After leaving the surgery center with no answers, no procedure, and no idea what was to come next we went shopping (i.e. retail therapy)...I'll take a pair of Defeated & Gabbana in a size 8 please!

It's amazing how God, Fate, Easter Bunny, whatever you believe in works, b/c while agonizing over today, I received a text message from a former student telling me how excited they are for school to start, b/c they were able to get 'jumped out' of their gang, and now they can wear what ever clothes or colors they want to to school and talk to whomever they want to talk to...and then they said, "Thanks Mom for never giving up on me."   (Insert chicken bone feeling in throat) 

By the way, my doctor just called and told me the cancellation of today's procedure was not my fault. There was some confusion and he will get it straightened out and apologized continuously for my experience.

It's The End of Summer

It's the end of summer which is bitter sweet. I love getting to wake up when I want, go for walks or bicycle rides, then actually get to enjoy and digest my breakfast right before I play with The Corgi for hours. On the flip side, I love the school year too...having a routine to stick to and I get so excited about listening, talking to, and motivating preteens and teens all day. Yes, I actually wake up every day and I love going to work. I use to play school all the time as a child, and when I start reflecting on my childhood (in blogs to come)you will see why I spent days in a fantasy land as a teacher. It sounds corny when the actors and actresses say it, but "I can't believe I get paid to do what I love!" This year will be a little different, b/c for the first time dealing with my career, I am putting myself first instead of it. I'm focusing on my personal life as a 'mother in waiting'. I have spent plenty of years helping raise or screw up other people's kids (i.e. students) and now I want one of my own to mess up and make mistakes with. This truly will be a challenge for me, who considers herself very dedicated to her students and career, but I'm ready...so as they say in the infertility blogs and facebook pages...BRING ON THE BABY DUST!

About UsRESOLVE: The National Infertility Association

About UsRESOLVE: The National Infertility Association

Inspiration

What inspired me to title this blog by it's so called name, was one day last week  I had my donor sperm in a nitrogen tank seat belted in my car in the front seat with me. Yes that's right. As I mentioned in my first blog, I'm trying to get pregnant, and since Prince Charming's GPS system is broken and he has no idea where his Cinderella (me) is currently residing, then I decided it's time for me to jump start the family without him. I began this Insemination Trek this May. Unfortunately I had Dr Frankenstein's illegit son for my fertility doctor, who put me through physical and emotional pain, so I had to start over with a new doctor and fertility clinic. In case you didn't know this, donor sperm is in the smallest vials possible and are kept frozen and when switching doctors you are responsible for transporting the donor sperm to the new office, therefore here comes the nitrogen tank's role. As I was driving from one side of Houston to the polar opposite, I had a very expensive and fragile item in my car. If you have ever driven in Houston, then you know driving at any time of the day on 610 near the Galleria is not a joy ride...and there I was in my flip flops, Frio River Tshirt and shorts, bouncing my head to rapper 50 Cent's Pimp Song (I'm terrible with song titles and words), and my baby's daddy strapped down in the front seat of my Corolla Sport in his nitrogen tank...and then it hit me..."Are We Sure This Is My Life?" And a star was born...well at least a blog was born.

Are We Sure This Is My Life?

I've been wanting to write an autobiography for so long, but between being a 40+ single teacher who is trying to get knocked up with a donor sperm (Nooooo I'm not a lesbian with a partner...not that there's anything wrong with it I was raised by my gay uncle, but we will get to that later.), in great debt thanks to my over sized house that shelters my corgi, pet turtle and me, and who has been on a diet since the age of 9, it is really hard to sit down and write a book and hope someday that is published and then turned into a movie where I KNOW FOR SURE Drew Barrymore will play me, the leading role. So here I sit blogging about  my life and experiences. "WHY?" You ask should you follow or read it, because like many people out there, I know some days you sit in traffic, at the doctor's office, or where ever you have this epiphany and ask yourself, "Are we sure this is MY life?" Well I'm here to share with you all the sad, funny, depressing, funny (get the pattern?) and still blessed things that go on in mine, so you will know you are not alone...and yes...this really is my life.