Posts Tagged ‘house’

The longest entry in the world?

May 21, 2009

Ooh, isn’t the world just one big circle? I got a few comments about names, and I felt inspired to write a name entry. You read it, and then you were inspired to comment!! I usually try to respond personally to every comment and am sure I will get around to it, but for now wanted to write about midwife visit before I forgot anything. Not that there is anything much to report – which is a good thing!!

TMD is home today, love love joy.

She was working from home for a couple of hours, and then supposed to take a train to The City and attend some workshop. Unfortunately for her (but fortunately for me!) she has a booming headache and feels like shit. So she is working from home the whole day. She has actually accomplished more than she would were she at work, and I know from my point of view that playing DS Lite is better when you have your wifey in the same room. She even took me to the midwife during her lunch hour.

The midwife today (the one who talked about lesbianism and orgasms last time) asked us today how we decided who would carry the babies. TMD now thinks the midwife is trying to become a practicing lesbian and wants us to be her instructors. She may be right.


My blood pressure still perfectly normal. The top number (have no clue what it means) is about 25 points higher than when I booked, but the bottom number is only 7 points higher. The midwife says the bottom number is the one they pay attention to, and if that ever jumps 20-25 points higher than it originally was, then ‘they get excited.’ IE preeclampsia, I assume. My urine was free from sugar, infection, and protein.

It was also FULL of….stuff. I used my new funnel urine collector (and really enjoyed it) today and when I lifted the urine sample to unscrew the funnel, I noticed The Stuff. Like lots of white things floating around. The midwife ‘let it cook’ with the stick in it, so she possibly thought something was up – normally they dip the test stick in and read it instantly. Apparently whatever the white stuff is, I’m still fine.

Anyone know about thrush and pregnancy? I only ask because I have NEVER had globs of stuff in my urine samples before, unless you count menstrual blood. (Speaking of blood, my poop got stuck this morning. And when it finally came out, there was as much blood on the toilet paper as poo. Yes. I know you wanted to know.)

The other big news is that the midwife says both babies are headdown!! I had been wondering about Torre for a couple of days, as her kicks were higher. Well, the midwife felt both heads (Torre’s feels like a big ass apple and was a bit uncomfy for her to push on, Mano’s wasn’t uncomfy and wasn’t that noticeable.) and said she thought they were headdown. She then whipped out her doppler –

break for a related newscast: because we have a doppler at home, we hear their heartbeats maybe once a week. Therefore, this is not a new thing that only happens once a month. Therefore, I feel like we do not exude the tearful joy that the midwives expect to see when parents hear the heartbeats of their children.

and Torre’s heartbeat was much lower than usual. Freakishly so. Mano’s, on the other hand, was perhaps higher than his usually is. She said Torre was lower down than Mano – what what? Perhap’s Torre’s big apple head will keep Mano from going transverse again? It also means that lots of the shifting type movements I have felt down low and assumed was Mano stretched across the bottom of the bump has actually been both babies. Join me in the chant: stay headdown, children o’ mine!!!

Headdown headdown

In the meantime, the crazy paintworks are still going on. The carpet guy also came round last night and left some samples with us. Seeing carpet on big squares is funny – we’ve essentially got The Bathmat, The Outdoor Welcome Mat, and The Doormat. Neither of us wants the bathmat stuff. But TMD likes this crazy ass wicker-looking carpet, which, according to Carpet Guy, is ‘the height of fashion right now.’ Excuse me while I yawn.

I am going to rub my inner elbows on both samples because I think her crazy woolen choice is not the nicest for little baby feet and knees. I think it looks attractive and all, but who wants a high fashion house floored with endless metres of rough carpet? I’ll take boring and cosy any day.

At any rate, because TMD is here and working right by the bedroom door, I have been able to lie down all day with no worries of having to jump up and talk to the decorator. As luck would have it, he hasn’t been knocking on the door a million times like he normally does. I just want all these various home improvement men to be done and out of the house – no more horrid paint smells, no moving shit around, no piles of shit shoved into our room and the twins’ room.

I am in the mood to THROW EVERYTHING OUT. Get rid of it all. Our lounge looks like a fucking show home with just the furniture and nothing else in it. All you need to be glam is some empty bookshelves and a dying plant or two. I don’t want to fill it with bullshit again! But I know how I am. As soon as TMD starts showing me shit to be recycled/donated/etc I will freak out and say I don’t want to get rid of it.

Get rid of it, get rid of it…………..

You can only mute things after the damage has been done. Lesson one.

April 28, 2009

Put yourself in my place: you’ve got builders over who are installing a new patio door. You are a chicken and also the lounge is covered in man things, so you are hiding in the bedroom. (You had work calls to make, so feel justified in avoiding noise….less like you are a crazy person.) You are not really eating or peeing, and you are awaiting the moment these men leave with baited breath.

There is a lot of backward-and-forwarding going on in the hallway, as you sit in your nursing glider and wobble back and forth. You are essentially looking like a normal human being, but your back is starting to scream because you really ought to: 1) lie down 2) cook some food and then lie down again.

Killing time, you look at the websites that somehow magically lead back to your own, and you find this:

Remember, you are trying to be nice and quiet. The volume on your computer is a normal level for listening to music or watching clips of lesbian talk show hosts. So, anyway. You click that link.

The front page comes up. Intriguing. Cute? What IS it?

You click ‘enter’ JUST as some guy is walking past your chair, in your quiet library of a house. Do it. Go to the link and enter the page – not just the main page, but make sure to click the little linksie at the bottom to actually enter the site. Feel the burn, baby.

A good day full of not so good things?!

April 27, 2009

I just interviewed a guy who was so negative it was like talking to Eeyore. Worse, it was like talking to a semi-retarded Eeyore. I know I am awful for thinking that about a real, live human being, but Jesus. I had to feed him answers because otherwise I might as well have phoned myself.

Tomorrow I’ve got three interviews lined up in very short succession. I did two today – very spread out – and it seemed to add some nice structure/diversion to my day. Tomorrow we’re also getting our brand new patio door. Goodbye mold, gross windows, etc. A new door is Step One in Our Grand Plan. Our Grand Plan is: new door, ceiling fixed (upstairs had a leak!), lounge and hall repainted, whole place recarpeted. In a nice, neutral colour – just in time for two babies to come and shit on it everywhere. Awesome!

In other news, my pee-pee is all messed up today. I left all these messages for people to call me back to set up interviews, and when the phone rings I have to get to it quick as the machine picks up after two rings. (Can’t leave it off the hook because it has a shit charge. Buying a phone is part of a plan, just not Our Grand Plan.) Anyway, the phone rang and I fucking lunged off the couch. It was like a move some flying acrobat would do….except it ended with me collapsing on the floor, screaming OH FUCK, before calmly picking up the phone and scheduling an interview.

I broke my pee-pee, dudes. Seriously. And my hips. I guess I will have to rule out pole dancing/belly dancing/etc as an extra money maker whilst I’m still pregnant.

First baby shop since becoming pregnant.

March 1, 2009

We’re off to a big baby exhibition today. The only goal we both seem to have accepted is buying a lovely glider chair and matching footrest. TMD seems to think I need to throw out my other chair for this new chair to fit anywhere. I do not agree.

No doubt the glider will live in fucked up places that disrupt the harmonious flow of the flat (HA times ten), as the nursery is currently still being called ‘the junk room’ and is in possession of a rather large couch that I also do not want to throw away.

Are you seeing a pattern?

Grr? Sob? Grr.

October 26, 2008

Day three of taking the pill, and I am feeling crazy already. I can’t attribute the crazy to the pill, of course, but it is highly weird for me to feel this level of anxiety and sadness after I’ve already gotten my period. Normally if I’m going to feel extraordinarily blah, that happens before the momentous event of blood-in-panties.

This is even weirder since my PMDD has completely calmed down since May, when we moved out of the city. Having trees and space agrees with my mental health, surprise surprise.

I am worried about the upcoming driving test, there’s no getting around that. So these feelings are probably at least a bit related to that. My old team leader met up with me for some sparkling apple juice (we are party animals) a couple of weeks ago, and she pointed out that my perfectionism isn’t doing me any favours, and perhaps I should just loosen up. Fine. I recognise that as a good suggestion – I just don’t know how to loosen up, that’s all.

My IVF study-a-thon has said that how a woman tolerates the birth control pill can be indicative of how she will respond to the IVF meds. Let’s hope, then, that this funk is nothing more than an ordinary Sunday blahness, with perhaps a dash of fighting-the-flu thrown in for good measure. Because otherwise I’m in for trouble – as is TMD, the faithful wife, witness, and participant to me and my individual brand of the crazies.

Fucking driving test, man.

And, you know, all the other stuff too.

I used to be on the birth control pill about a hundred years ago, when man-sex was not only a viable option, but a fairly regular occurance what with my steady stream of long-term monogomous boy-relationships. The pill didn’t make me crazy then; I don’t seem to remember any side effects. But that was a triphasic pill. I don’t know what this one is. Every pill is exactly the same as the others, though, so it’s definitely not triphasic.

Some women at Day Job said they refused to take the pill because it turned them into raging monsters. Perhaps I have now joined their club. Hip hip fucking hooray!

I am a non-train spotter.

October 19, 2008

I talk about the train station all the time. Want visuals? (Apologies for quality, taken on my phone.)

The walk to the station:

My train platform going into work, where all the Crazy Shit With John happens:

The platform when I get home (and huddle under cover from the rain waiting for TMD to pick me up!):

Lovely road behind the park behind our house (behind the front of the house, behind the street in front…):

Last bit of walk home, where I imagine a crazy killer could get me at night, were it not so peaceful:

And now, our cat (I am becoming everything I hate by posting pictures of my pet, appreciate the sacrifice):

Lists make compulsive people happy.

October 11, 2008

Thus far today:

1. Drove to another little ‘city’ (ie village in the middle of nowhere) and oohed and ahhed over the autumn foliage.

2. Picked up a new old sofabed from said city.

3. Joined our local library (which is amazing with lots of windows) and I checked out the full ten items allowed.

4. Found The Best Friend’s Guide to Pregnancy in a charity shop for 2.00.

5. Came home to amend my Amazon order that I placed yesterday – ordering that book! Got excited about how to spend my bonus 3.00 to bump it up to free delivery.

6. Got royally fucked by Amazon, who instantly stopped my order from being amended once I cancelled the one item, boosted up my postage and packaging, and would not get free again even when I added the 2.98 (BARGAIN) DVD of Halloween.

7. Sighed in resignation when I cancelled the DVD order. I am fated to never own my favourite movie, clearly.

8. Tried to get over the whole affair by remembering the taste of the McDonald’s Veggie Deli sandwich I just had – and cold french fries. I love cold french fries.

9. Watched an episode of ‘Blossom.’


Next up for today:

1. Paint the ceiling of the spare room.

2. Wash the walls in sugar soap so I can paint them tomorrow.

3. Think some more about Nano.

4. Go for a walk? Enjoy the sunshine? Take a nap? Fingerpaint?

5. Possibly put the load of pictures I took for this blog onto the blog.

6. Relish my last weekend with no driving lessons.

And now to move away from the wasabi (reluctantly).

August 22, 2008

Can you believe this is right behind my house? I can’t.

It’s odd because this was a very normal sight where I grew up. Trees, fields, animals, space. I then moved to Really Big City In Another Country, and tiny rooms and crowded streets became the norm.

I feel very Buddha like in saying that after all that exploring of the world and myself, I’m back where I started and appreciating it more and more.

Writing to write.

August 10, 2008

Just feeling quite low and not sure why. It’s too early for the PMDD blues, and I realistically think it’s all the worry lately. I think I may avoid reading on IUIs, as it only seems to depress me. Whereas reading about how to increase fertility and make your body a welcoming environment for a baby uplifts me. I’d rather be in that head space.

Still also worrying about this pain in my lower right abdomen. My little cyst (you remember him, my pal who is yet to be removed) is starting to kick up as well. I’m beginning to wonder if the two of them aren’t connected. I’m also beginning to wonder if my level of crazy worrying isn’t making things more painful/noticeable than if I was in a more sane frame of mind.

Haven’t really felt like writing in here. Though I have downloaded Q10 to write other stuff with, and I love it. Love it. I could just have it open all day, just to see its pretty face and hear its typewriter noises.

In other news, my nails are long, I have a million driving lessons booked, my father-in-law should be here in ten minutes, and the house looks like a bomb has exploded.

I also ate wild blackberries this morning.

July 30, 2008

My mother is very excited about the fact that I might Move Back Home One Day, and I think my sister has gotten into it as well. All of this from an innocent  email wondering if my qualifcations are transferrable to that country, which stemmed from the idea that I definitely want to do more training in a couple of years. While waiting for the train this morning, I thought about these two places. Past Country and Present Country, with no clear winner of which would win the title of Future Country, if either.

It occured to me that I have never been a real grown up in Past Country. In this place I live now, I’ve had actual adult jobs, completed two postgraduate courses, bought a house, bought a car, lived a grown-up life with my grown-up wife, etc. What do I really know about Past Country? I’m not even totally clear on the types of jobs availble for working with young people, for example (excluding the obvious ones). TMD has said she would move back into the camping field should we move there, and this morning I was thinking – is it possible for me to be happy if she works in that type of job?

And that’s even if a camp is happy to take on not just the suberbly qualified TMD, but also her lesbian partner and their children. It’s been a long time since I’ve faced the type of discrimination that is inherent in Past Country. The sort that is so thick and murky fingers reach into every area of your life. Would I want to live in that environment? Raise my children there?

The simple fact is, I think I am more comfortable in Present Country. While it was a huge culture shock to move here originally, and I faced feeling really low for the first couple of years, now I have grown up and into this place. This doesn’t mean I don’t want to live in Past Country. In all sorts of fantastical fantasy ways I would prefer it, hands-down. But is it possible? I don’t know.

All of this is completely arbitrary discussion anyway, as we would not move there until there was a national policy on immigration with regards to same-sex marriage. But the way things are going, that could either be much sooner than we ever predicted – or decades away. I’m not sure. Those of you living in a country where gay marriage is not legal and therefore immigration is a bitch, what is the vibe?