That's the only way I know.

Push. Fight. Survive. Keep going. Rejoice with everything you have in the shining, albeit fleeting moments of victory (and no matter how long the actual time-span I guarantee, looking back they will feel like mere moments in the grand scheme of things.) Hold on to those moments and protect them like diamonds. For they are what will sustain you through the next round of pushing, fighting and surviving until you reach your next little, island sanctuary of victory.

The only thing consistent in life is change. For better, for worse, for indifference or for ugly. Things change. Nothing stays the same. Even the good times. Especially the good times. I'm not trying to be all "doom and gloom" here but fact of the matter is you cannot truly appreciate the good until you've experienced the bad. Only then are you capable of seeing the bigger picture.

Between the two of us, my husband and I had four divorces under our belts before either of us was even near age 30. Not something we're particularly proud of, but we both agree wholeheartedly as to the positive effects divorce has had on our relationship now. Our marriage has something that I don't think very many marriages have. A 100 % mutual respect for the loss that the end of a relationship brings. And not just for ourselves but for our children as well as our extended family and friends. Divorce brings about  loss to the entire community, not just those directly involved. It changes the world.
But so can a strong marriage.

Fertile Myrtle.

So I took a little break from writing for a while. (So much for my 30 day challenge. Oh well what can I say? Growing a human isn't easy for some of us, OK?!?!) Honestly, I've been so sick and tired I haven't had the heart to write. Or do much of anything aside from the necessary basics to keep the kids alive and the house from burning to the ground. So far so good.

As the island of "normalcy" has long faded from sight I find myself surrounded by the utter vastness that is the ocean I have named "I cannot even remember what normal is anymore". I find myself talking in depth to my best girl friend about her everyday, mundane activities just so for a moment I can live vicariously through her and remember what its like to have an actual desire for ... anything besides a cheeseburger and bed by 8 PM.
Alas! I consider time my friend as much as my foe. (back of my hand to my forehead in a dramatic gesture.) I am in my last week of the precarious "first trimester". In three days I'll be 13 weeks and into the coveted "second" trimester. This fact is bitter sweet for me. As much as I do not enjoy feeling like a giant pile of dog poo this is in deed the last first trimester I will have in my life.

On one hand, its a difficult task to let go of one's fertility forever. I've been dealing with my period since my 12th birthday, birth control since my 15th and pregnancy/child birth since my 20th. I've had unintended pregnancies and pregnancies planned with near military precision/timing. I've had boys and girls. I've had a loss. I've had scares. I've taken the "morning after" pill. I've never had an abortion but I have been in the position to consider it. I've rejoiced. I've cried uncontrollably. But I've never had any regrets. My point to all this is that my "fertility" has been at the forefront of my life now for 21 years! 

On the other hand, I do have a sense of relief in finally feeling like my family is "complete". The idea of being done makes me realize that once this baby is school age my life will be (somewhat) "mine" again. (Disclaimer: I know one never stops being a mother, it is a job for a lifetime. I am saying there is definitely something liberating about not having to wipe another human's shit covered ass anymore or bathe the dirt/stink off of them.)  It makes me see a different kind of light at the end of this parenting tunnel.

Someday my hubby and I will have each other all to ourselves! I love thinking of the adventures we could have, the places we could travel. Coming back "home" once or twice a year to visit the "kids" and the "grand kids". Being free with just the two of us. Its a very strange concept as I've said I became a mom at 20 so thinking about myself hasn't truly happened in about 13 years.

As I continue along this pregnancy "cruise" I will do my best to relish in every single day. Even the days I dry heave so hard I piss my pants, because I know these days are swiftly coming to an end.

I kept my big mouth shut!!!

Hubby will be home tomorrow evening but already I am singing "I did it! I did it! I can't believe I did it!"

By that I mean I cannot believe I went 14 entire days and never once did I slip or give into pressure and reveal my little secret! Oh it was tough believe me. The subject of pregnancy seemed to jump out from everywhere. I swear my BFF was trying to test me today by bringing up babies and pregnancy every chance she got. (Pretty sure she suspects it.) Anyway, I honestly didn't think I could go that long and not spill the beans.

A couple of times with a couple of different people I swear the conversation circled right around and opened it's self up for the perfect opportunity to tell. Its like the universe was temping me! What kept me going was the longer I lasted not telling anyone the longer I wanted to go. Also just the thought of how DH would feel if he was not the first person to know besides me, kept my jaw wired shut in those instances where I came close.

 I love him so much! I cannot wait to see his face! I'm going to have to tell him relatively soon after he gets home tonight because I am definitely a lot "thicker" than I was when he left three weeks ago, it won't take him long to figure out what my pudgy middle and ginormous boobs mean.

Part of me is just the a tiny bit nervous that he is going to be more stressed out than happy. Not that he will be upset, I'm just thinking he is going to be in a bit of shock. After all I don't think he really thought this would happen within our given time frame. It will all work out in the end thought! He loves kids more than any man I've ever known. I think he was just stuck in the thought that he would always be a one child daddy.

Some days I think he is still in awe over our two year old. That is going to be the toughest for him to wrap his mind around; her not being the baby.  I really hope with my heart and soul that this new baby is a boy, I think that will make it easier for DH to accept this life change. So far I've had minimal morning sickness and that's how it was when I was prego with my son. (My two daughters I had more than morning sickness, Hyperemesis gravidarum where it does not stop. Without intervention with meds I would have dehydrated and ended up in the hospital.) I'm a tiny worried about multiples with how much weight I've already gained. Anyway, I hope the next 12 hours fly by so I can get this lovely secret out into the open where it belongs! 

Breakdown!

I had a crying breakdown in front of my MIL at the family reunion last weekend. To be fair it was a
a hellish time and I was beyond my wits end. According to MIL, all meals would be provided. I only had to bring a potato salad for the group and my own drinks. (Easy peasy, right?)

So I packed up my SUV full as a stupid clown car and made the two and a half hour drive out of state. DH was not able to attend due to work his schedule. (Even though its his family. Ah, Life as an oilfield wife!) Normally with out DH I would have just skipped the occasion altogether, but last year my FIL was diagnosed with cancer. Its not clear on how long he has live and he was the person actually hosting the reunion (probably for the last time ever). So even though it was a HUGE pain in the ass, I felt obligated (to my husband and to my kids) to go.

The ride up took longer than expected so we were hungry when we arrived at camp. (The last 45 minutes of the drive were in the middle of nowhere or else I would have stopped for some food.) After the kids complained for the 50th time that they were starving, MIL finally served the dinner she brought. Rolls, mayo, mustard, turkey, cheese and pickles. No lettuce, no onions, no salad or potato chips (the salad I brought was for the next night) no desert. Bare bones. Hmm. Okay, whatever I understand you usually want to take it easy the first night, setting up camp and all. We went to bed with growling tummies. Mine especially.

I woke early the next morning, the poppy-seed-sized-human in my belly was very eager for a hot, hearty, mountain breakfast! Mmmm. You know, the kind you have when your in the great outdoors! I waited patiently for everyone else to wake up, fighting off my empty stomach nausea as best as I could. Finally they started putting table cloths on the pic-nick tables. My insides churned with anticipation! My belly was sore and threatened to let loose what little stomach bile it contained if I did not fill it up with something very soon. Finally the moment had arrived! Breakfast is served! Ta -duh!

. . . cold cereal, bagels with two kinds of cream cheese and bananas.

WHAT ... THE ... FUCK ... ??? The growing beast within my tummy roared. Fruit and bagels are NOT a proper breakfast! They are a side dish, they are a snack they are a treat! For the love of FOOD that was NOT . . . BREAKFAST!

I gagged down what I could with the dim hope that the food situation could only get better from there.

Lunch rolled around. Cold turkey sandwiches AGAIN. (At least this time they had tomatoes and lettuce.) Zero for three.

Dinner time and halleluiah! Praise Allah or Jebus or whomever you want, they were serving juicy, hot, grilled HAMBURGERS! MIL had asked to store some burger meat in my fridge. When they started the grill I asked three different times if I should go get the meat from my fridge. Each time I was told no, not yet.

Anxious relatives lined up for the burgers that were done. "Get in there NOW!" my poppy seed screamed to me. Of course at this point I'm doing the mom juggling act of carrying two plates, two forks, two napkins, two drinks, keep track of my two year old and fill up the plates as I went along. Struggle, struggle, struggle. A few rude family members actually passed by and butted directly in line in front of me because I was "too slow" they chuckled. Fix in's for the burgers were slim again (I'm all about the "fix-ins" if you can't tell!) mayo & ketchup (no mustard) pickles and buns (no cheese, onions, lettuce or tomato).  My homemade potato salad was the only descent dish. Ooooh my BIL had the tenacity to open a few boxes of instant mac n cheese for his contribution of a side, other BIL did a "Suddenly Salad" from a box and SIL was in charge of desert and forgot completely. (How in the HELL do you just FORGET desert for SIXTY PEOPLE?)

FINALLY! I made it through the line with my two plates. Turned to gather my baby and head for the tables when from behind MIL asked "Can you go get that burger meat from your fridge now?"
 I saw stars I was so flipping angry. My face must have said it all as I slowly turned towards MIL, hands full, two year old screaming as if she's possessed by a demon due to lack of warm, nutritious meals the past two days. I sighed the hugest, loudest sigh I could muster. SIL quickly volunteered to take my key and fetch the meat. "Yes, you do that woman who has ONE child to care for AND A husband to help you." I said to myself in my head. If I don't eat this right now I'm going to fucking pass out here in the woods.

 So between all of this "food drama" insert that handful of relatives who breeze past you as if you are invisible and those relatives so ignorant everything out of their mouth is an insult. Among sixty some odd people you'd think there would be at least one who wanted to talk to or hang out with me. After getting squeezed out of or straight up ignored by four or five different group conversations, I gave up and resorted to sitting completely alone in camp chair. And I sat and I sat and I sat. For one whole hour I sat watching the groups before me interact. The entire time I sat out the only person who acknowledged me was my youngest nephew-in-law and that was only to drive his Match Box monster truck up my face. (Sweet boy.)

Looking around I realized that absolutely NONE of these people (not even my MIL and FIL) cared that I was there. Here I was, sacrificing my time, money, comfort and energy for my husbands family and not a single, solitary one of them gave a rat's ass! My SIL twice excluded my oldest daughter (her step-niece to be technical, although I must point out we don't like using that word to describe any relationship in our family.  "Step" is a demeaning term IMO.) but made a huge point to include my other two daughters (who are bio to my hubby, so SIL's blood relatives.) which made my oldest daughter cry. I was so done.

My kids and I went to bed early. Rose at 6AM and began feverishly packing my SUV before anyone else in the camp even woke up. I was nearly done when MIL crawled out of her tent to use the restroom. I informed her we were leaving before breakfast as we desperately needed a hot meal.  (Guess what was on the breakfast menu?!? Fruit and bagels! Oh my!) She understood and offered her assistance in packing. I did need help breaking down my youngest daughter's pack n play. MIL snap down the sides so I could do the rest. At least I tried to do the rest. For some damn reason the thing wouldn't fold up properly at the top and it was hanging half open. My vehicle was full on the ride up and now we had an extra body (middle daughter had to meet up with us at the reunion) so there was absolutely no way the pack n play was going to fit in my SUV half open.

I. Fucking. Lost. It.

The tears came like Niagara Falls and I started wailing. Fucking WAILING like a dying, wild animal! There have only been a couple of times in my life I've been so upset I've actually resorted to wailing.

"I just want to go home!!!" I sobbed.

"I just want to eat some real food!!!" I snorted.

Pretty sure the entire camp heard me, but my emotions were a run away freight train.  MIL came to see what was wrong. When she saw my pathetic state she stopped dead in her tracks and pulled me in. As she hugged me emotions came flooding again, even worse this time, sobbing & snorting uncontrollably into her shoulder. Then came the damn hiccups. The deep kind where you can't speak straight and your whole body trembles like a earthquake at each one. When she finally let me go, MIL grabbed the still half open pack n play and said "I've got room for this so don't even stress about it."

I have never in my life been so grateful nor felt such relief.

Gotta love hormones! 

So when we finally tell her I'm pregnant I predict her exact words will be "I knew it."

Equal opportunity bigot . . . for good reason though.

I did write yesterday I just didn't get a chance to put it up. Had an issue with my neighbors so I wrote them a letter. First a little back ground.

I have annoying neighbors. There I said it.

Okay, okay . . . I fucking HATE my neighbors. There I said it. For the ten thousandth time.

I am not a racist but you could call me an equal opportunity bigot if you wanted to. It is my humble opinion that 99.8% of this planet is populated with jerks, fiercely looking out for only themselves. Basically, I dislike/distrust nearly everyone regardless of race, creed, sex, ethnicity or religion.  (Everyone's an asshole!)
 
That being said this is not a story about race. It is about annoying neighbors.

We have lived here in relative peace going on our fourth year now. At the start of summer our neighbors built a very nice patio and awning which I thought looked great. I was happy they were able to make improvements to their home.

Unfortunately since the patio was built they have hosted several large parties with loud music well into the night and early morning. On one occasion they literally woke me and my entire household out of a dead sleep at 2AM. At that point I donned my fuzzy, pink bathrobe, walked out onto my back porch and yelled at them to keep it the fuck down. (Crotchety old ladies in fuzzy bathrobes unite!!)


The next day I tried speaking to the son (who was the host of that particular party). He was rude, disrespectful, tried to intimidate me and never stopped rolling his eyes.

A few days later my hubby was home. The son and father (owner of the home) apologized to him about the situation. (Funny since DH was not here for that incident . . . nor has he been home for ANY of their parties. They seem to do it when they know I'm here alone We thought the issue was solved.

Wrong. This past weekend I had the pleasure of laying in bed until 11:30 PM (I usually to go to bed at 9PM! I NEED MY BABY GROWING SLEEP!) listening to the "Oom Pah-pah, oom pah-pah, eye-yeye-yeye-eye! Yippee! Horns, horns and more horns. Oom pah-pah, oom pah-pah!" of their music. I went out to yell from my porch again but this time instead of finding the son and his hoodlum friends it was the dad and ten other grown ass adults! I didn't dare confront them, as DH is still 900 miles away and my kiddos are inside, alone, unprotected. (There are just too many fucked up, violent, out of control domestic situations these days! Some involving neighbors!)

So I took my anger to the key board. By the time I was done editing I felt like a dirty hippie singing "Kumbaya my neighbors! Kumbaya!" (What the hell has happened to me?!?) Anyway, here is my letter:

"Dear Neighbor,

    We have lived next door to each other going on four years now. In four years we have never had a problem with noise. I don’t know what has changed but this summer your home has been host to several large, loud parties that go on well after 10 PM.

    I’m not trying to be mean or cause problems, but sleep is a God given right to all human beings. Perhaps you are not aware but when you have parties on your back yard patio it keeps up or wakes up every person in my house. All bedrooms in my home are located near your patio or driveway.

    Even with our windows shut, when your family is outside “partying” they tend to “shout” when they speak and its usually four or five people all “shouting” at the same time trying to have a conversation. I’ve also laid in bed listening to extremely loud hollering, hooting, cheering and laughing. (Maybe you aren’t aware but the giant, concrete wall in our back yards echos EVERYTHING.)
Music during your late parties is also a nuisance. Even when you turn it down, if its outside at all the bass bounces off the concrete wall and right into my house.

    I have spoke to your son about this twice already. You have spoken to my husband about it. I feel we have been nice enough about this.

    I DON’T WANT ANY TROUBLE.

    ALL I AM ASKING:

•    PLEASE TAKE YOUR PARTIES INSIDE YOUR HOME AFTER 10 PM.

•    PARTY ALL YOU WANT BETWEEN 7AM AND 10 PM.

•    CITY QUIET HOURS ARE 10PM TO 7AM.

    Let’s be respectful, helpful, kind neighbors to one another. There is too much negativity and violence in the world today. Neighbors should be courteous, respectful and helpful instead of rude and annoying. This neighborhood is home to us all so let’s please be civil and mindful of each other!

    If you have any questions or feel the need to discuss this matter you may speak to my husband when he gets home .
    Thank you."   

I'm not on welfare, so what business is my fertility of yours?!?

This may sound extremely weird and probably makes zero sense but I've been dreading telling everyone about this baby for years now. My heart told me about this last little soul when my current "baby" was about six months old, she is now 2 years, three months old. I knew then as well as now that absolutely no one was/is going to be thrilled about this baby.

It all started back when I was pregnant with my current "baby" (instead of current "baby" from here out out I'll refer to her as Miss. B). I went out to breakfast with my mom, step-dad, grandpa, uncle and my (then) three kids. As we were saying our goodbyes I made a comment about the next time I saw my Uncle hopefully I'd have my baby. For some reason he got confused and thought I was saying that after the baby I was currently pregnant with, I would have another one. When he realized that was not what I was saying he flipped out.

"I thought you were going to have another one after that one! I was like holy hell! How many kids ya gonna have?!?! Ahahahahahaha!" The rest of my family, including my own kids joined him in his hysterical fit of laughter.  Immediately this whole scene struck me right in the heart. So what if I wanted another kid after this one? Why did they seem to care so much? I don't ask any of them to babysit or for money. I felt very sad. I felt like a joke.

So now here I sit and aside from telling my husband, I do not look forward to telling anyone. Which is extremely sad because I truly wanted this baby with my heart of hearts! I achieved a goal that I really wanted to achieve. A goal that I honestly did not think I was going to achieve. And now I feel like I can't even relish in my victory because of all the judgment that will immediately be thrown my way. I can hear it all now . . .

"Five kids?!? Who in their right mind can afford to have five kids these days?!"

"Another kid? Holy hell, ain't she got her hands full enough as it is?"

"What is she possibly thinking? She's almost 33 for Christ sake!" (In UT it is custom to pop out as many kids as possible between the ages of 20 and 30. After that you are considered "mid-life" or "old".) 

"What a HUGE age gap between kids! I can't believe she'd do that!" (My oldest will be 13 when this baby comes)

"That's just not fair of her to bring another kid into that messed up lifestyle they live!"

"They better not expect me to ever baby sit five kids!"

"Did she turn Mormon and not tell anyone?"

"What does she think its her job to repopulate the god damn Earth?"

"Three kids with three different dads! At least now she'll have a pair by the same man!"

So as you can tell, I'm not expecting much support. After I tell DH the plan is not to tell anyone else and let them figure it out for their damn selves! No need to make an "announcement" when I'm convinced all I'll get is put down for it. It won't be difficult for our friends to figure out. The very second  I say "No thanks" to an ice cold Bud Light every one of them is going to know I am pregnant. I DO NOT REFUSE BEER . . . EVER. The only exception I've ever made is during pregnancy.  They won't mind that I'm having another one, they'll just be a little disappointed that I am out of the drinking scene for the holidays.

As for our family members I need to come up with some catchy come backs. Something along the lines of
"My vagina! My business! My vagina! My business!"
or
"Well you know we just LOVE to have sex SOOOOO much! I mean we just can't EVER keep away from each other We're like RABBITS!!!"

 
 

No one is perfect . . . damn it!

So my goal was to write every single day for thirty days in a row and I fucked it up on day ... drum roll please ... day three! Oops. Normally I would beat myself up for failing my goal so quickly but I'm not because I spent last night making a tutu for my daughter (Productive!! Yay!).

Normally I could blame drinking beer and say that I forgot or fell asleep but since finding out about this baby I have not drank a drop of alcohol. My mind is clear and frankly I'm so damn tired as it is I think any amount of alcohol would all the more facilitate my trip to nighty-night . (I'm waking every morning between 4:30 and 5 AM because I've been going to be so early because I'm so exhausted! The later I try to stay up the earlier I end up going to sleep.) 

At this point I'm wondering if hubby has an idea as to what is going on. Let's list the ways that he could possibly know:

1. I yawn constantly.
2. I bitch about waking up so early because I cannot stay awake at night. 
3. I've said several times "I don't need any stress right now. I'm just trying to relax and stay very calm because I just cannot be stressed out right now." (duh!)
4. He keeps trying to make plans for around when I'm due to which I am forced to give a vague "Hmm. Mumble, mumble, grumble. Maybe babe. Grumble, mumble . . ."
5. I haven't bitched about my period at all. 
6. He keeps trying to spend money on things like guns. Don't get me wrong, I fucking LOVE guns. But, when I'm about to be faced with a few thousand dollars in hospital bills . . . guns can wait for a minute. Anyway, this forces me to say "Hmm. There are so many other things we could spend money on right now."
7. I kicked our "baby" (our youngest) out of her crib and into a big girl bed within a matter of days of getting a positive pregnancy result. 
8. I've been stressing to hubby the need to get our "baby" out of diapers ASAP. He's like "Relax! We have time!" Grumble, grumble, mumble. 

Anyway, at this point if he doesn't at least expect it a little bit I will laugh!