SO much is happening in my life right now, you guys!
Just kidding. I’m sitting on my mom’s couch. Where I’ve basically been stationed for the past few days. I’m just so bored at home! It’s like an isolated island with no outside communication, I literally wonder if I’m turning into Tom Hanks in “Cast Away” and Shelby is my Wilson. I almost pulled out my own tooth with an old ice skate the other day… or maybe that was just a dream. Whatever, I’m losing it.
Nothing is new. I mean, seriously. Nothing. I keep thinking something exciting is going to happen, but alas, my life is a photocopy of what it was a month ago. And two months ago. And six months ago. I’m living “Groundhog’s Day”. Mostly because I think Bill Murray is super sexy for an old guy.
We spent the weekend with Louie’s family, which was great! I love spending time with my nephews. It’s been such a blessing to watch them grow. They have such wonderful personalities, it’s like hanging out with my friends… just a little smaller and less really drunk and more like pretend drunk. Same amount of falling over oneself, less cussing and a few more slobbery kisses.
I’ve put off the whole fertility thing for two more cycles, because I need to finish this semester. It’s really hard timing things when your body doesn’t have a schedule. It’s always a surprise when something happens, and I HATE surprises. There’s a good chance we won’t be starting anything until June. I feel alright with that, I mean, what’s the hurry? It’s only the life of my unborn child at stake here. Look at us all, playing God. I read an article about a woman who was dealing with emotions of shame and selfishness because she had used IUI to conceive her twins. I found it really hard to relate to. I have no shame, as of now. Things change all the time, and I can’t predict how I’ll feel when we finally get pregnant, but I can say for sure that shame will be at the bottom of that list. I think the feelings of shame – of any kind – come from concealment. If I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone that ovulating was like playing Russian roulette, I would be depressed too! That’s why I tell everyone, everything! It’s like continuous word-vomit. I just blurt it out and let it go, it helps.
My dad goes in for surgery tomorrow. He’s getting a cyst out of his adrenal gland. Then, for now, he will be cancer free. It’s literally a miracle. He’s far surpassed the life expectancy for his type of cancer, and I pretty much think he’s like, the strongest man in the world.
Yesterday we watched “Bridesmaids” together (hence the title of the blog post, I think that is the funniest line in the entire movie). It was mostly awkward and sometimes hilarious, and I think my dad is funnier than the movie. His commentary should have been video taped and put on youtube. I love hanging out with him, which is why I end up spending more than half the week at my parents house. That and my mom feeds Shelby and I. Plus their bathtub is like heaven.
Over Easter I was super moody and grumpy and basically a huge asshole. I thought I *might* have been pregnant because my body was being all crazy. I got super excited thinking of way’s to tell everyone. Our best idea was putting the news in an Easter egg for the boys to hunt and then telling them to ask Nanna and Papa what it says. So Easter morning I woke up, peed on my 100821983408th stick and of course, it was negative. I was so pissed off that I laid in my PJ’s until noon, then got drunk by the pool and passed out in my bathing suit.
I’m feeling less grumpy and negative now. Mostly because I’ve been eating copious amounts of cheesy things and a ton of chocolate and watching Bones and Grey’s Anatomy non-stop while crying and holding my dog like a baby for the past week.
There is a positive spin on the whole “not being pregnant” thing. I calculated my due date, if I had been pregnant, and it was- of course– the day of the pending apocalypse. December 21, 2012. I about had a panic attack. I could just see myself. Hiding in the pantry, delivering my own baby while acid rain pours down outside. There is clearly a reason I am not pregnant yet, and that reason is definitely because God is telling me that I am too anxious to be pregnant during the zombie apocalypse. The last thing I need is to be breastfeeding a newborn while running through the streets of El Cajon, dodging zombies while foraging for food. I’d have to consume 300-500 more calories to keep up my milk supply! It would be madness. I’d have to fashion a moby wrap out of bed sheets and teach my baby how to use the blow dart Louie’s had since he was 10. Shit would get crazy.