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Week 8 involved the two month check up, vaccines, and a panic that our child doesn’t hold her head up at 45 degrees like other kids we saw on the internet. Also she sleeps through the night, so I am worried my milk supply is going to dry up, but I’m also sleeping more. And her poop is green. I’ve always been interested in poop texture and colors based on health and diet, but I’m concerned, because she ONLY EATS ONE THING. The pediatrician didn’t seem too concerned about the green poop, but that pediatrician also doesn’t seem interested in kids. I really need to be more clear with the receptionist when I am scheduling that I want any doctor in the practice but her. Like maybe I name all the other doctors when she asks if there is someone we would like the appointment to be with, even though I haven’t met them.

Our marriage is okay. I speak to our baby in my native tongue so that she learns it, and David has resumed his vigorous Japanese studies…which to be clear is not the language I speak with our baby, my relatives and at all the family gatherings. “When she asks why daddy doesn’t speak the language I’m just going to have to tell her he didn’t love us enough to learn it,” I said yesterday, which I regret now. I wouldn’t say that to her for real. I think instead I’ll tell her that it’s important to diversify when it comes to speaking different languages in a household, and if we ever have an emergency that requires negotiations with the Japanese at a second grade reading level, daddy can help.

I saw Seth Myers’ stand up special on Netflix, and it was inspiring. I am planning to watch it again so I can study it and start writing my own jokes.

I’m also thinking about resuming meeting with my comedy group. Right now I’m in the doctor’s office waiting for my final blood draw to see if I still have diabetes. Let’s hope not because let’s just say I certainly haven’t been eating as if I have diabetes.

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We went to an infant CPR class. In the class they show you a video of a baby who has stopped breathing, and then in the dramatic re-enactment they switch to a doll so they can go through the steps. We are watching this in class, and I just start crying I’m so upset the plastic baby has “stopped breathing” in the video. I’m trying to hide the crying, but David looks over and sees the tears streaming down my cheeks, and he mouths, “PULL IT TOGETHER. IT’S A VIDEO.” I’m fully aware of how ridiculous this all is, so I shift to trying to stifle my laughter through tears, because I can’t let the class think I’m _laughing_ at a baby not breathing, and David bit on his fist to avoid laughing as well. Of course I’m sitting near the front of class, so most people don’t notice. The instructor probably thought I was insane.

Anyway, this was not good, because I had been telling David that I’ve been sad and he hasn’t been emotionally meeting my needs, and he just shrugged it off and told me to stop reading about tragedies in the news, but after this class incident he was like, “Clearly your hormones are completely out of control.” It’s like he was vindicated in ignoring my demands for more attention!

On Friday (6/21) I had my gestational diabetes test – they make you drink a glucose liquid and then take your blood. I’ve been worried about having this condition and diabtees in general, because I don’t always make good food choices, and I pretty much stopped exercising as soon as I got pregnant.

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Hello my sweet! Please know that even though I don’t update daily, I am thinking of you. Take solace in knowing that when I am especially angsty, I think of coming to you second, dear blog. David is first. He will always be first. There’s nothing you can do about that. It is how it is.

So! A few things have been going on!

First, on the procreation side, this was a month “off.” No drugs! No needles! And if you are wondering whether I lived it up – I assure you I did. I had coffee; I had caffeinated tea; I had a glass of wine twice a week, and one night, I drank a martini! It was amazing. I ordered mochas, and they had decorations in them, and I appreciated every sip.

Then, I was late. My clockwork period was late! I thought, “Uh oh…what if my relaxation this month resulted in a baby!? Could it be?! What a lovely story that will be! Truly it was procreation stress all along!” I took a pregnancy test: nothing. As usual. That was disappointing. I think one of the most frustrating things as someone who is _trying_ is to not get your period AND to have negative pregnancy results.
Well anyway, after days of negative pregnancy tests, the red vixen has arrived, on my performance day no less!

So let’s move on to the performance! I was very nervous about the show, because technically I was directing it. Our group assigns directors, but truly all the shows are collaborative. And the actors are very strong, so they really shape the delivery. As a director, one of the most important things you can do is trust your actors. I learned that from Joan Darling.

Anyway, I was very nervous about this performance because:

1) All of the sketches were new.
2) We did not meet Thanksgiving Week, so we only had two rehearsal sessions.
3) There were a lot of lines to memorize.
4) Two of the sketches were controversial, because they touched on race and gender.

Well we had our first of two performances tonight, and honestly, I thought it went okay! I forgot some key lines; other people forgot key lines, but all in all, the audience seemed to genuinely enjoy the show. They laughed the whole time. And that is the most important thing. I would consider the show a success. I’m usually quite critical, but I genuinely felt we delivered a quality product with some gaffes. So I was pretty annoyed when I heard someone from our group – who was not part of the show – giving my actors a slew of criticism about the show immediately after the performance and recommending sketches to cut. It put a real damper on the whole thing, and I was seething. We knew where we had gone wrong. And by focusing on where we had gone wrong right away, it detracted from the places we had gone so right.

I won’t leave you with a negative note, my dearest. I don’t believe in doing that! Here is the bit I hope to remember about this performance: in this show, I do a bit about Mrs. Claus doing a tight five. So, it’s Carol Claus doing a stand-up routine. It went well! The audience laughed and laughed. After the show, Emily shared that she was watching David who was laughing so hard that he “looked like he was going to pee.” David insisted that wasn’t the case when I shared this story with him, but I know it to be true. That warmed my heart. I love him so much.

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Well hello there. Yesterday’s hearing was baffling. I thought about it on my walk to my blood work and ultrasound appointment this morning. The nominee was hysterical when reading aloud his personally written statement. I laughed when he announced he had written it himself like a child might, and then thought “Well yeah, no one rational would sign off on this unhinged, partisan rant.”

I found his behavior and responses wholly disqualifying for the position, regardless of the accusation, which I also believed.

I’ve also been reading analyses of the hearing, and the consensus seemed to be there should be more investigation because she was credible.

I was feeling bloated too, but not so much that I couldn’t walk on the first partly sunny morning we have had in a while. The check-up went smoothly! The nurse used a smaller needle to draw blood on my right arm, and the Doctor was in this morning and measured my follicles. She told me there was a chance I would trigger tonight with an extraction Sunday. I was super giddy to hear this, because I am not interested in receiving more shots, and I feel like my ovaries are going to explode already. She said my blood work would determine the final call.

I asked the Doctor about something David would have to do, and I’m not elaborating here, but I’m documenting it because I returned home and recapped this interaction with David who was annoyed with me about it, but then we had a good laugh.

Anyway, work was busy, but I anxiously waited for my follow-up call formally telling me about the trigger time. And I finally got it around 3pm! Caitlin, my nurse, shared it was trigger night and that I would get a call with the exact time from the operating room. There are 14 large follicles right now. And I don’t have to take the Cetrotide shot in the morning, just a blood test.
So Yay! This phase is almost over!

Something I learned today: estrogen is the reason for discharge. I shared that I had quite a bit of discharge, and the doctor explained that that was because I have a lot of estrogen right now.

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I found my FitBit charger! Here is how I found it: I was looking at the floor under my desk, and it was there, on the floor.

Here’s The Tale of the Missing FitBit Charger:

Once upon a time there was a FitBit and a Charger. They had a very special friendship. Every seven-to-ten days, they would come together, with Laptop, to power FitBit for the next seven-to-ten days.
Charger asked nothing of FitBit, only provided a connection that served as FitBit’s lifeblood.

Then one day FitBit went to Japan. Without Charger. Charger was devastated. “How could FitBit take Charger for granted?!” Charger thought. “I give and I give, every 5-7 days!” The more Charger thought about it, the more despondent he grew.

Finally, in a fit of despair, Charger flung itself off the desk where it normally resides, into the dark abyss.

The End.

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If you’re looking for a psychological thriller that confirms your suspicions about the mentally handicapped, look no further than Prisoners, a movie that stars the handsome Jake Gyllenhaal and compelling Hugh Jackman. Because I don’t like movie reviews that give away too much, that’s all I can say here. *

I give this movie 12 whistles!

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Actually I do want to mention that there was a couple next to us during this movie that left an hour before the movie ended, and they left their popcorn and soda in the theater. I honestly think they couldn’t handle the suspense. This movie is not for the weak of mind.

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I have now become the proud proprietor of a very classy chapeau. I was stylish before, but this chapeau has put me in an entirely new league. Yesterday, as I walked through town and caught my reflection in store windows, I marveled again and again at my panache.

Top Five Greatest Things About Wearing a Chapeau

5) Shade. Obviously.

4) Fellow Chapeau wearers. These are partners in style, and as we pass by each other, it’s natural to make eye contact and smile. Some chapeau wearers don’t know this. They are the worst.

3) Walking tall. Wearing my chapeau doesn’t just make me feel taller, it makes me physically taller. Fact. Nay. Biological wonder.

2) People peeking under my chapeau to see what I really look like.  A fabulous chapeau could only be worn by a fabulous person. It makes complete sense that strangers will want to know more about the enigma beneath the chapeau.

1) Raising the chapeau to greet friends as I approach. Classy chapeau for a classy lady.

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What actually happened (written by David):

I’m not very accomplished, so I don’t have the right to say particularly snobby things. But that doesn’t stop me.

The crowning achievement of my snobbishness was at a restaurant a number of years ago that served truly horrendous food. It also happened to have pig brain on the menu, which in and of itself isn’t atrocious, but on this occasion it was.

When the woman who was part owner of the restaurant came up and asked how things were, I decided I would tell her what an accomplished eater I was and how terrible her food is. I told her how accomplished I was, so I didn’t seem like a hobo.

“I have eaten at all the worlds most wonderful restaurants, and let me tell you, this was not one of them. And that pig brain dish, I wouldn’t serve that ever again. It was an assault on my palette and a travesty of modern cooking.”

What I thought happened (written by me):

Constructive criticism is the hallmark of every great intellect, and if you could use one phrase to describe me, “great intellect” would not be it. But that doesn’t stop me.

My most regrettable experience providing constructive criticism was at an expensive restaurant a number of years ago that served truly horrendous food. The dessert was some kind of pineapple sponge cake that I would have expected as part of a grade school lunch pack.

When the woman who was part owner of the restaurant came up and asked how things were, my inner altruist emerged as I resolved to help this restaurant improve their troubled ways. “I’m going to give honest feedback,” I whispered to my husband, who shook his head non-supportively.

As an aspiring intellect, I knew that I needed to establish credibility before my words could carry any weight, so I began sharing that I was a worldly eater. “I have eaten at some really amazing restaurants around the world,” I slowly began. She smiled at me. “And this, the flavors here, were very, very far from those flavors.” Seeing her crestfallen face made me realize this was not constructive at all, so I became more specific, delicately discouraging her from offering the pig brain dish to other customers.

She accepted this criticism professionally, but I still felt bad hurting her feelings, so I began my version of softening the blow: “Please remember I have eaten at a lot of good places, so I am biased.”

David’s Perspective Continued:

“Please remember that I am no ordinary hobo who visits the likes of Applebee’s and The Olive Garden. To such a person, perhaps your food might be extraordinary. I wouldn’t know.”

My Perspective Continued:

The part owner thanked me for my words and turned to go. I didn’t share my feelings on the dessert with her because I felt that was enough feedback for one restaurant visit.

David’s Perspective Continued:

“I forgot to tell her about how awful the dessert was,” I said to David. “Should I call her back?” David shook his head again, assuring me I had done enough damage for one day.

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In addition to being a pop sensation, Nicki Minaj is a champion of science and research, I’m pretty sure.

On my drive to work this morning, listening to her wax poetic about dancing drunkenly, presumably on the dance floor, it occurred to me that her hit song, “Starships” is actually about expanding NASA’s space program. She has casually inserted these lyrics in there, and it’s only a matter of time before it becomes a common phrase that everyone is repeating. This unassuming neologist has been turning her talents to social engineering, and in the finest way.

If I may, here is a refrain to the catchy tune, Starships:

I’m on the floor, floor
I love to dance
So give me more, more, ’till I can’t stand
Get on the floor, floor
Like it’s your last chance
If you want more, more
Then here I am

Starships were meant to fly
Hands up, and touch the sky
Can’t stop, ’cause we’re so high
Let’s do this one more time

This line about starships, repeated throughout the song, has nothing to do with the rest of the song. But unlike Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe” masterpiece, the non-sequitur lyrics in Starships perhaps serve an alternative purpose: put starships in flight. I’m a big fan of space research, so I shall now also become a fan of Nicki Minaj. Bravo! Let’s put starships in flight!

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