RenovationGirl

I Try, I Really Do...

In recent weeks, the feelings of desperation regarding our battle with secondary infertility have been exhausting and crippling.  The one thing with infertility is that we have no control over it, yet we long to control it.  We do all that we can to ready our bodies for a pregnancy-we eat right, exercise, take supplements, meditate, etc.  I haven't been doing much of any of that since our last IVF cycle was a bust a year and a half ago.  I just needed time to not let my infertility control me.  I wanted to drink a little, have a Dr. Pepper, eat potato chips.  I didn't want to monitor my basal body temperature, count the days to ovulation, and have perfunctory sex when the time was "perfect." 

However, over the past month or so, I think I'm ready for a little control.  Even if it gets me nowhere, at least I can say I tried.  Right? 

Sigh...so since we are"unexplained" infertility with a potential egg issue, potential male factor, and crappy embryos with a ton of fragmentation, and since we are out of money for now, I wanted to go the more natural route.  I've read a little on Traditional Chinese Medicine, TCM, and the good effects it has on the body.  I decided I would give it a try.  See a practitioner, naturally work with my body to gain balance, and then, after 3-6 months, perhaps try a last IVF cycle.

So yesterday, I called an acupuncturist who worked for three years with an infertility clinic and who recently opened an office in my area.  I worked up the nerve to call for the appointment.  I felt I was gaining a bit of control.  Even if it didn't work, I gave it my all.  And hopefully gained some balance in the process.

And today, while feeling a bit arrogant of my good planning and my attempts at a healthy, balanced body, I received a call from said acupuncturist only to find out he does not regularly come to my area.  He gave me the name of some other acupuncturist, but he doesn't know anything about him.  Gee, thanks.

So, again, I feel out of control.  I feel like I tried, yet I keep getting slapped in the face.  Now, I will have to try to find someone within reasonable driving distance who is experienced in treating infertility.  This is not easy.  I do not live in a metropolitan area.  I am not in an area of people interested in natural healing.  I don't want to go to just any acupuncturist without a referral from someone who knows his/her work. 

I feel so discouraged. 

Too Much TV

There's this Beren.stein Bear book called, Too Much TV, that like all their other books provides a valuable lesson to children and parents alike.  This particular one, of course, teaches the child to turn off the television and use their imagination to play.  I am a particular fan of this book since watching television is a bit of an issue for us.

You see, as an educator, I know too much about kids and their behavior.  Studies have shown that too much television is not good for young children.  Some believe that ADHD can partially be "caused" by too much watching.  While pregnant, I committed to the idea that Builder Boy would not watch television until he was older.  I made it eighteen months.  And then it wasn't my fault.  You see, Remodel Man is a TV watcher.  He comes from a family of TV watchers.  Often, while at my in-laws house, every TV in the house will be on-and only two people live there.  They just need to have the noise and the picture going all the time.  Coming from the same gene pool, Remodel Man does this, too.  I follow behind and turn off the TV after he leaves the room.  The constant noise, constant flickering picture drives me crazy after awhile.  Don't get me wrong, I like television, but I also like a good book, or to listen to music, or-gasp!-to have some quiet in the house.

So, while on a rare trip to the grocery store alone, Remodel Man introduced Builder Boy, a mere eighteen months into his life, to the television.  Any guesses what his first television experience was?  Leave a comment with your guess...and get your mind out of the gutter! 

From that point on, it was all downhill.  Builder Boy wanted to watch television all the time.  Non-stop.  I fought it most of the time, but those times that I would wear down, well, wow!  You get lots done when the little one is entertained.  And so it became easier to give in and get things done.  I am racked with guilt constantly, wallowing to my friends at how pathetic I am, yet each day, I find myself giving in again.

And because everything in my life revolves around infertility, there are other feelings of guilt with Builder Boy and his television watching.  Here I have been given this amazing gift, my miracle baby, and I am wasting his short little boy life allowing him to watch television instead of making memories with him.  He is my only one, my only chance at motherhood-and right now, what is he doing?  Watching television while I write this.  Then there is the whole "if he had a sibling" issue.  When I am around my friends with more than one child, I am amazed at how their children play together.  Yes, I know you spend a lot of time refereeing siblings (I have a sister...I know...), but those times when they do play together, those are priceless.  Builder Boy doesn't get that.  When we go places like the park or a play area, he goes it alone.  He curiously watches the other kids, the siblings, play with one another.  He attempts to join in, but they usually are pretty exclusive, those sibling clubs.  Heck, they have a built in playmate, why bother with a stranger? 

What does this have to do with watching TV and too much of it?  Well, in the fantasy land that is my mind, I imagine that if there was a sibling, there would be a lot less television watching.  I could say, "Play with your brother/sister!" instead of, "I'm busy right now, you'll have to play by yourself."  So often, I just don't say it because it sounds so cold and lonely.  Instead, I put aside my work, my cleaning, my bill-paying and I play.  Much of the time I ask, "Do you want to watch something?"  And here we are again, watching too much TV. 

I'm so tired of the guilty cycle that infertility takes me on.  Parenting alone gives you plenty of guilt, but to add the guilt of not providing a sibling, well, it's just too much sometimes.  So, anyone out there have some tried and tested methods of getting an only child to play by themselves while not feeling like you have somehow failed them?  Mama Beren.stein could do it.  She'd just put her foot down, stand strong, and the little bears would "see the light."  Only thing is, she has two kids...

I Think the Neighbor's Kid's a klepto

We have great neighbors on either side of us.  They are both very different type of neighbors, but they are equally great to have.  On one side, we have a couple with grown kids who leave us be.  We politely talk if forced to and we feel so inclined, but mostly it's a polite how-do-you-do and we continue with what we are doing.  You don't feel forced to be "friends," but we also know we can count of them if we need them. 

On the other side of us, a mere 10 feet from our house, we have our other neighbors.  These are the friendly, talk all day/night in the yard neighbors.  They have three children who are older than Anthony, but they still play together.  The neighbors invite us over for drinks, and when on vacation, we watch one another's cats.  Sometimes, you feel obligated to talk or be friendly even when you don't want to be, but that's okay.   It's nice to have friends so close. 

They have a son, we'll call him Neighbor's Son, or NS, who is very generous to Builder Boy.  He gives him toys and clothes and loves to play pirates and army with him.  He's a bit older, but is so desperately trying to stay little-he's just not ready to grow up.  I like that about him because it seems that kids grow up so fast anymore. 

Last fall, before we started to hibernate, Builder Boy and NS were playing outside with Builder Boy's cap gun.  NS mentioned that he had lost his cap gun, but still had caps for it.  He immediately ran and got them for Builder Boy to use.  Shortly thereafter, we lost the gun.  I was convinced that in a moment of mommy frustration, I hid the gun from Builder Boy to stop inappropriate gun play.  I searched high and low and could not find it.  This went on for months. 

Fast forward to this summer...in the yard while talking to NS, I mentioned how our yards were the black hole for lost toys.  He asked why and so I explained the story of Builder Boy's gun.  Later that night, there was a knock at our back door.  It was NS and he had Builder Boy's gun.  I was overjoyed that it wasn't my fault and Builder Boy was overjoyed to properly play cowboy again!  It did seem strange that the very day, a mere couple of hours after I mentioned that the gun was missing, poof!  NS finds it "in his yard." 

NS is a nice kid.  He's generous.  But still...perhaps a klepto in training?

Finished Project #2

Well, it's not the most exciting of finished projects, but here is #2.  Remodel Man put in a wall at the front of our carriage house, leveled the ground with 3 tons of gravel, and now we can park some of the fleet of cars back there.  (Have I mentioned that Remodel Man has a bit of an old car fetish?) 

Here is the wall, with Builder Boy climbing on our truck:

Here is the wall and our carriage house:

 

A preview of Finished Project #3-our new roof: 

And the chef went "Huh?"

After a hard couple of days of packing with Black Belt Mama and five hours in the car with a four-year-old, cooking dinner last night was not an option.  Instead, we headed over to R.ed Rob.in for a quick burger.  We love this place because it's family friendly and non-smoking.  They limit the amount of drinks they serve you (three?) so that no one gets rowdy.  They have balloons, a few games, and a television in the floor of the waiting area.  For families, it doesn't get much better than this. 

Remodel Man and I like that we can build any kind of burger we want.  So, I thought I'd get the guacamole burger, but instead of beef, I thought I'd try a veggie burger for the first time.  I was pretty proud of myself for going the healthier route for once.  (My whole W.eight W.atchers lifestyle change took a vacation when I did...it has yet to return...)  It came with cooked onions, so I asked if instead they would put on those crunchy onion straws. 

My veggie burger came in all its sloppy grandeur.  As I wrestled it into my hands for my first bite, I chuckled to Remodel Man that the chef must have thought I was a goof for ordering the veggie burger (healthy) and adding the crunchy fried onion straws (not-so-healthy).  Remodel Man just gave me this look and said, "I was thinking that he must think you're confused over your meat-eating status." Huh? 

The guacamole burger had bacon on it. 

Frolic and Fun

Before the evening-long meltdown of Builder Boy, the two of us went to the pool for a quick dip.  Going at dinnertime is a great time to go...we practically have the pool to ourselves, some parts are shaded so no need to lather up with sunscreen (a process that neither of us enjoys), and we can work up an appetite and head home hungry.  Builder Boy gets pretty excited and it takes a lot to get him out of the pool and into the car.  Tonight was no exception.  He tried every method in the "I'm a Preschool Manipulator" book, but nothing was working for him.  Until...he turned to me with his caramel-colored eyes and said, "But Mama, we could stay and frolic and fun some more." 

Okay, (snort, snort), we can stay for a few more minutes, but tell me, where'd ya learn those words?"  I asked thinking it was from my mom and dad.  After all, who uses the word "frolic" besides old, excuse me, more mature individuals?  Nope, he learned it from that silly yellow cleaning thing with pants not made of triangles.  The silver lining...at least he's learning something good from it, too, to counteract all the bad stuff.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Tomorrow, we're heading out on a road trip, Builder Boy and me.  We're going to frolic a bit with Black Belt Mamaand her kids.  Okay, we're not exactly frolicking, but it will be fun.  I'm going to be helping BBM pack up and move out of her house since she had maybe a month from accepting the buyer's bid to moving out which is just nuts with two kids and only seven months post-ACL surgery.  Here we come, BBM-help is on the way!

I promise to write a bit about my vacation since there were some good things to share.  Work is still busy, making it difficult to find time to write.  I know, though, that some of you are dying to hear the low-down on John-I'm-a-Beach-Boy-Stamos!  You'll be underwhelmed, I assure you...

Home again, home again...

We're back from our vacation, all still in one piece...barely.  Lots to write about, but first, loads of laundry and a busy work week.  Oh, and getting caught up on my blog reading and writing! 

The highlights of our trip:

• Seeing what's left of the Beach Boys perform at the beach (oh, and with John Stamos).
• Watching Builder Boy play in the waves and the sand.
• Seeing a beautiful sunset on the bay.
• Laughing with Remodel Man over as much as we possibly could. 
• Taking a pirate ship adventure and heading off to a "wild West" town with Builder Boy. 

I managed to do a bit of writing (with a pen and paper) so I would remember what I wanted to post about when I got home.  You'll be seeing that soon.

Hope the past week was a good one!

I'm Twelve All Over Again

As I write this, my "to-do" list is longer than my arm.  I should be doing laundry, packing, cleaning up the house, making a side dish for tomorrow's picnic, writing instructions for the house-sitter, etc.  In 36 hours, the Renovators are going on vacation.  This is good, right?  In the long run, yes, it is good.  In the short-term?  Let's just say I need some strong drinks and a good meditation podcast to get me through. 

For the past two years, we have vacationed with my family.  My parents are very generous folk who pay for much of the vacation, enabling Remodel Man and I to take Builder Boy on vacation.  It is a blast to watch Builder Boy navigate the sand and waves, build sandcastles, and live in an apartment away from home.  We are making memories.  We are getting awesome pictures.  We are bonding with my family.

Oh, the bonding that goes on.  It seems that within 10 minutes of arriving at the condo that we stay in (all of us...together...for seven days...), my family has reverted back to our original family roles...my sister and my father constantly fight-him to prove he is right, her to antagonize, my  mother tries to take care of everything and mediate as best she can, and me?  Ever the Libra, I, too, attempt to balance the situation, occasionally fight for myself, get sick to my stomach, and vow never to do this again.  Builder Boy and Remodel Man are just innocent bystanders.  Poor things. 

It frustrates me that we cannot break free from these rules...that we must be crabby and inflexible instead of just living in the moment and going with the flow.  But my family is not a "go with the flow" kind of family.  Oh, individually, we think we are (we're totally not, not one of us), but collectively, we're not and we all know it. 

My goal this year was to let the others fight and just go with what they want.  Hey, I'm at the beach with no cares (that I can do anything about while there), so I'll just go with it.  About a week ago, I said my peace-as long as Builder Boy was able to ride the Pirate ship and go to the Old West town and I got to eat one meal at a favorite restaurant, the rest was up to them to fight about.  I'm not doing it.  I won't do it.  I can't do it.

Yet...we haven't even left yet and already I am being made to feel like a twelve year old all over again.  Listening to the disapproving voice of my father, disappointed in something that hasn't even happened yet.  Baiting me (and failing) into an argument over our departure time (cause ya know, it's no fun unless you caravan...).  After getting off of the phone and using some choice expletives, I reminded myself that I am not, in fact, twelve.  I am an adult, with a family and house to manage, three jobs to work, and two Masters degrees behind me.  Clearly, I am capable and competent.  Right?  Cause if not, I'm going to have to grow me some big old bangs for my hair, buy some penny loafers and turtlenecks with a fake pearl necklace, and find my Wham! album.  (yes, and I mean album). 

Vacations are great, aren't they? 

________________________________________________________________________________________

I've asked Black Belt Mama to guest post for me while I am away.  If you don't already read her, you're in for a real treat.  Her house just sold on Tuesday and she has to be out of her house and into her parents' house by August 1st because her new house won't be done until October.  Plenty of great material there!  Enjoy!

A New Version of Me

So, I did it.  I took the first steps to a new me.  I started W.eight Wa.tchers two weeks ago.  Two weeks you say?  And I didn't even mention it to you?  Well, to be honest, I dread the reaction I get from people when I tell them I'm doing it.  I'm pretty proud of myself for taking this step.  I was eating horribly.  I had gained 15 lbs. thanks to fertility treatments.  Before that, I had gained 15 lbs due to, well, a slowing metabolism (and hypothyroidism).  I wanted to do something to force me to eat better, model good eating for Builder Boy, and to lose a little of the pudge I've grown.  But people get funny about it when I tell them.  I am by nature tall and tall people carry their weight easier.  I guess there's more room to spread it out.  So when I tell someone, their reaction is, "YOU?  YOU need to lose weight?  There'll be nothing left of you."  Or some other wise comments that is not appreciated.

I've done this, too. I guess I said it because sometimes, it's uncomfortable when someone talks about their weight.  Sometimes I pooh-pooh someone's weight-loss plan because I think they do look great.  Sometimes, I want to let them know that heavy or thin, they are beautiful to me.  Regardless, I've learned now that I need to be supportive of their choice.  Everyone has to make their own choices, and so long as they are not hurting themselves, I have to let them.  I just wish people would let me, too.

My new eating plan is going well.  I've lost 5 of the 15 I want to lose.  I am eating far better than I have in a long time.  I am feeling good.  I still crave all the junk that I like, but I do indulge a bit here or there.  So far, so good.  Now if I could add a little exercise, I'd be golden.  In the meantime, I'll just crunch away on my celery...