After knowing Mr. Flinger for nearly twenty years now, seven years of those married, six of those as best friends, and 5 years of dating, you’d think I kinda know the guy a bit. You’d think that. And you’d be right. Mostly.
For some reason I’ve been approaching this whole birth control thing completely wrong. I’ve been approaching it like a women, with logic and emotion. *We* don’t want to have children, so *we* need to find a solution that works for *us*. *We* need to get a cost effective/low impact solution. *We* don’t need the Mommy (hi) to be an emotional wreck from the hormones of Birth Control Pills (also? I can not be counted on to take them thus making their reliability around 2%) or the IUD*. *We* don’t like condoms. *We*... Read more
The BoyChild will not let me set him down. What-so-ever. At all. Nada. Zilch. No-go. W.T.F. This means I have about thirty-two minutes at the end of the day when Mr. Flinger gets here to do bills, clean, make dinner, eat dinner, pee, shower, and workout. Oh! And type! And write thank you cards! And give myself a pedicure because OY. Did I mention Oy? OY.
This too shall pass. I know I know. And if I was really obnoxious and deeply troubling I might say something totally gross like, “I just enjoy this time because one day he’ll be fighting me off and I’ll miss the days of carrying him around in the sling every goddamn minute of the day.”
In other news, I took a pregnancy test. YES! That’s right! Internet, I made it an entire... Read more
Just got the call: HCG is less than five. We can :: ahem :: resume “normal activity” and start trying whenever we feel comfortable.
I’m drinkin’ some wine tonight, baby! Bring on the BABY MAKING.
*upon hearing this news Mr. Flinger says, “Activity as normal? Can’t we do better than once a month? Come on, Man, throw me a bone.” He forgot about the the experiment already? Jeesh.Read more
Here is the kind of information you would get from me if you saw me on the street today.
“Yea. I’m almost five weeks pregnant. Yea. So it’s not going well. Yasee, I peed on another stick today. And, well, it’s not darker and I KNOW they say it doesn’t matter but it has to, right? Doesn’t it make sense if your HGC went up it would get darker? Yea. I thought so. So anyway, I had another blood work lab today because the nurse isn’t pleased with my score of 47 on 17 days past ovulation. Oh, we know when I ovulated because I took this ovulation strip. Oh, it’s so neat, it’ll tell you when your egg is about 48 hours from being released. Crazy, hu? Anyway, so I had to go back in and now they’re saying things like...
Because I can convince a nun she’s pregnant but not that she’s a lesbian 23/May/2006
Two weeks late. Grumpy but not bitchy. Weepy but not pissy. Tired. Sore boobs. Pukey.
Wow. This. Is. Really. Getting. Old.
Maybe it’s all those women I sleep with. Yathink?*
Oooh, Internet, before you run around spreading rumors, lemme just say that I’ve stayed up late to see my hunk-o-hunk-a-burning-manhood on the Country Music Awards (which I despise) just because someone said he was on. And in the five
sentences he was on, I realize there is no way I could ever... Read more
“Babe, my uterus hurts.”
“When is your period due?”
“I dunno. I’ll have to check my archives.”Read more
No, it’s not the latest porn movie hitting the Internet, it’s what my Doc said after I admitted to peeing away hundreds of dollars in pregnancy sticks. After last week’s episode, she demanded I take a blood pregnancy test because, let’s face it, I was whacked and a week late. Also, regardless of how many fake positive or real negative tests I take, I still believe I’m pregnant. Hell, I can be bleeding like a stuck pig and think I’m pregnant. Trust me. Or don’t. Read it for yourself.
Anyway, so she calls with the results telling me, upon my... Read more
I swear to you, I can convince a nun she’s pregnant. No, Really. I could. I think I have a problem. There should be a name for this. “reallybadguessingatpregnancysymptoms-drom” or “howthehellcouldIpossiblybebutIthinkitanyway-drom” or “mynippleshurtlet’sassumeit’sababy-drom” ‘cause y’all. Every. Effing. Month.
One of these days the girl-who-cried-pregnant will actually GET pregnant and there will be no people to give a rat’s ass. “Yea. Right” they’ll say. “Uhhu.. SUUUURRREEEE.” And “Are you SUUREEE you didn’t just pee on a used stick?”
Thus is born, a new category,... Read more
Y’all… I am not just feeling pukey.. I am hunched over the sink dry heaving. Why? Seriously? Here’s the theory.Read more
I’m starving. I’m so hungry, y’all. I’m hungry enough that page 83 of Harry Potter had me drooling. Oh, it’s not the main point of the chapter. Unless, of course, the fact that Harry Potter eats onion soup and bread has some large meaning to the whole wizarding world. I’m sure it doesn’t. But it has a whole hell of a lof of meaning to my world. Mainly, my belly.Read more