I'll have you know . . .

I am juuuuuuuuuust about fed up with this job. Do you think if I quit it will increase my chances of get KU?? It would be just my luck that I would tell my boss to shove it and then finally see 2 lines. The only thing keeping me here is the fact that we are waiting for Mr. Joe's promotion. That is the only reason I keep my big mouth shut. Just know that I don't care about your stupid annuity or why you think my company sucks. I ESPECIALLY DON'T CARE THAT YOU HAD A BABY AND NOW YOU DON'T WANT TO GO BACK TO WORK. THERE IS NO SYMPATHY HERE FOR YOU, LADY. Here are some other things to keep in mind:

-I am not heartless because the IRS won't let you take your money out.
-I cannot speak any louder without shouting, you should turn up your hearing aid.
-Please do not ask my name and then repeatedly call me by a man's name.
-I'm sorry the woman that sits in the cube behind me sounds like a bitch. I am being nice to you, so you should just ignore her like I do.
-I do not have the winning lottery numbers. I am forced to ask you if there is anything else I can assist you with. I don't really care if there is anything else you need.
UUUGGGGGHHHH. I hate my job today. My talents are wasting away here. Thanks for listening.

Step one and a plan

I called the clinic for the SA today and scheduled a drop off for next Friday at 8AM. I am not very pleased with the time and date, but the only way to drop off "the goods" in the time allotted and at the proper body temp, we would have to do it in the morning, and the only morning appointment I could do would be next Friday. Far away, but gives me time to plan how I will manage to pull this off without freaking out. I am pretty convinced that I will trip and fall or get into a car accident and have to explain why I have "the goods" on my person. Awkward . . .
Onto the plan we have decided on:
We will wait for the SA results to come back in, and once we make sure that Mr. Joe is fine (which he is) I will start the progesterone, assuming I don't get AF before then (which I won't). I'll take that for 10 days, then wait for AF and start Clomid. . .
Magically, I will ovulate and Mr. Joe and I will get it on at the right time for once. I will be a patient girl and not test obsessively until it is time, at which point I will discover that I am knocked up. There will be some kind of clever way that I will tell Mr. Joe, and he will have an amazing reaction which will reaffirm the reason I am in love with him. I will make an adorable pregnant lady, the kind that is all baby, and no extra flub anywhere. In fact, all of my body fat will migrate to the baby, thus creating the cutest tubbiest baby ever. I will be envied by skinny Kari at work and will finally know what its like to walk without my thighs rubbing together. Mr. Joe and I will annoy everyone by withholding Baby Joe's sex and name until after he is born. After 9 peaceful and glorious months, I will go into labor and have the quickest and most painless natural child birth ever. Baby Joe, being the chubbiest, most beautiful baby on earth, will be hailed as a picture of perfect health. Mr. Joe and I will win some kind of baby-making award for spawning Baby Joe. The prize will be one million dollars. I won't have to go back to being a phone monkey in the call center anymore!
. . . At least that's the plan I have in my head. If we follow this, we should be ready to be knocked up in March. I'm okay with that I think. We might have a baby by Christmas! At least that's our hope, but we know how screwy I am so I'll be crossing my fingers!

McFatty Monday!

Even though I'm still only watching what I'm eating, I managed to lose another 2 lbs when I weighed myself this morning! I keep telling myself I'm going to work out, but I end up being so busy between working the two jobs and cramming all of the "fun stuff" into the time when Mr.joe and I are not working, that I don't really have extra time to work out. I do alot of housework -which occasionally makes me sweat, depending on what the cat and dog have gotten into. Hopefully soon, when Mr. Joe is FINALLY promoted in March, we can ditch our pt jobs and then I will have lots of time! Other than that, I can only credit my weightloss to the PB toast I force down for breakfast and the Lean Pockets I eat for lunch. While I realize that eventually I will hit a plateau and have to start running and changing up my menu, I don't think I will ever be able to ditch Lean Pockets. I LOVE THEM WITH A PASSION. They are the most delicious pockets in the entire universe and I will never give them up.
I wish I had a more recent picture of me as proof that I look skinnier then I did when I started following McFatty Monday, but sadly I do not. You'll have to take my word for it.
In TTC news:
Turns out my employer hates me and Clomid is not covered so I will have to pay for it out of pocket. . . which I'm kind of happy about because we use Express Scripts and I HATE THEM. Express Scripts sends you your medication through the mail. Any kind of medication, to your house through the mail. So if you're sick, you need to call them and request your meds, then wait for the mail. What kind of system is that? Answer: a crappy one. So, at least I can go wherever I want and pick up my meds without having to wait for the mail, nor run the risk of the mailman figuring out I am defective and can't ovulate on my own. I still have to call to set up Mr. Joe's SA - he is super excited and cannot wait! At least that is how I am imagining him to feel. I'm way better off this week then I was last week. Hopefully it will only take one cycle though, because I don't want to fork over 50 bucks for 4 months before we move onto something else. I will if I have to, but I will be Complainy Cathy THE WHOLE TIME - so pray for me for your own sake (as well as Mr. Joe's)!!

I love . . .

THIS

Back from my appointment:

I am mildly pleased with the results of my "consultation" with my doctor. We are still not sure why I am not ovulating, and she doesn't seem to be concerned with that. She suggested sending Mr. Joe for an SA before we do anything else though, and this frustrates me BECAUSE I AM DEFINITLEY THE PROBLEM. I explained that because we know I'm not ovulating, I don't think my hubby will be willing to do SA until after I am able to ovulate. He's not the most gregarious of people and bringing a sample into an office would be approximately 5 million miles outside of his comfort zone. Especially since we're pretty sure its not him. She spouted off something about how if we are infertile we have to be prepared to be poked and prodded and basically lose all dignity if we want to persue infertility treatments.
REALLY? I HAD NO IDEA. (insert eyeroll here)
Anyway, on top of the SA order, she told me to take the progesterone and then added Clomid to the mix, but told me to wait until after the SA results get back. She also gave me a bunch of 80's style brochures about planning for a pregnancy and how to handle infertility. Ironically the picture of the couple on the IF brochure is all happy and smiley and looking like they are definitley NOT contemplating the idea that they may be infertile. SIGH.
I went home feeling extremely uneasy about broaching the SA subject with Mr. Joe, but as it turns out, he is completely on board! I had to agree to a few things, of course, but all in all he agreed with Dr. H that we should rule him out now instead of putting me through anything "unnecessary" (am I the only one who here who is accepting of the fact that IT'S ME. I'M THE PROBLEM. Anyone?). After we get the results of that back, I will take the progesterone and then Clomid and then we'll get it on and BOOM! we'll be preggers. Right?
Hope so.
So that's where we are now. I have to figure out the logistics of the SA and then we'll be on our way!

She called . . .

. . . during the ONE TIME I was without my phone all day!
She did leave a message though, saying that she agreed with me and not to take the progesterone again until after we meet. AT A "CONSULT". This gives me the throwups.
As much as I LOOOOVE being right, I think I preferred when Dr. H thought I was crazy and wrote off my worries as being nothing. Because if it isn't nothing, then it must be something.
So, to assuage my fears, I am doing what any normal, collected individual would do. . .

I will be googling for the rest of today and tomorrow.

I mean business.

Sorta. I called my Dr.'s office today, and after starting my rehearsed griping and being put on hold about 5 times, I finally got it out that I NEED SOME FREAKIN HELP HERE LADY!! Receptionist (who is overworked and underpaid, imho) was in agreement with me that something sounds off and that I should hold off on taking more progesterone until after I talk with my Dr. She even included in the note that I think taking the progesterone is masking the actual problem and that something may be wrong! Her note may look something like this:
Dear Dr. H:
Please call Mrs. Joe back. She is a hypochondriac and is babbling on about wanting to conceive a child before Mr. Joe's friends do. I think she may be a psychopath. You'd better hurry.
She made me an appt for this Friday and said that she would have her call me back . . .but that was at 11 and its 4 now. I doubt she will call. That's okay though we'll have plenty to discuss on Friday!!

McFatty Monday - I'm still in a bad mood . . .

So far, I'm down 2 pounds.
Yay.
If we count from the time I decided I was too fat to be a trophy wife, I have lost over 20. But today, I don't want to count from that date. I just want to be mopey and sulky and bitchy.
Took another test today. It was negative. I KNOW SHOCKER RIGHT? My bf Ronnie thinks I should go in for a blood test because how is it possible that I am 30 days late? I must be pregnant right? Right? RIGHT???
The answer is no. I am not.
So yay for me and my 2 pounds. I'm still going to throw my weight around at my Dr's office when I call. TOMORROW.
Because apparently the last of my patience went with those 2 pounds.

To pee or not to pee?

I love getting mail. One of the coolest things about owning your own home is that all the mails that come to your house are for you! Yesterday was a glorious day because I recieved a special package I had been waiting for from one of the sweet bloggers that I read. She sent me 10 (TEN!!) tests that she was selling, since she is patiently waiting for a miracle daughter from Russia and no longer has a need to pee on such things.
I however, have a deep and aching need to pee on as many tests as my grubby hands can get on.
This is a serious problem friends. Back in the beginning of last year, when we were "just seeing what would happen" if Mr. Joe and I weren't "careful", being late and seeing negative tests were no big deal. I would chalk the negatives up to bad timing and move on. Life was fine, I wasn't obessing and negative tests were just a sign that this time wasn't our time. Until THE CHANGE.
I can almost pinpoint the time THE CHANGE took place. We were at Disney, and I was surrounded by BABIES! and CHILDREN! and my head was swimming with all the super cute things I was seeing. Now, Disney World has always been a special place for me. My family vacationed there every year while I was growing up (which was prolly why my siblings and I had no college savings plan whatsoever, but who needs education?) and the memories I have from those vacations are some of my happiest. Seeing those young families reminded me of the time, and made my heart ache for babies to share my obsession love with.
That ache quickly moved south to my empty uterus. At first, it was a dull ache, only making itself know every now and then. Two of Mr. Joe's cousins became pregnant and the ache became more prevalent. I wanted to be the first to have a great grandbaby for Nama! Nevermind that neither of them were married. Mr. Joe and I can do this! Let's get going! I attempted to chart. I acted as sexy as I could around the times that I thought I was ovulating. Negative tests were frustrating.
Then my brother died. I had been due for AF the week that he passed, and the possiblity of carrying life inside me was sustaining me while I tried to hold my parents together. I remember sobbing in the hotel bathroom two weeks later (while in FL for his service) as I felt two losses: the first being my big brother, my personal comedian and confidant; the second, the baby that never was. I desperately wanted to give my family some happy news after all the sadness that came with my brother's illness and passing. I wanted to know that life could go on. The ache became ever-present and deep. Peeing on those tests became an obession and a source of great sadness.
Here I am tonight, with 10 fresh tests sitting in front of me. They want me to pee on them. They are calling to me. I have to pee badly. I have been holding it the entire time I have been writing this post, trying to decide what to do.
Tonight, I am 30 days late. I don't know if I ovulated because I think you need a PhD to properly read those OPK strips, but if I did at the time that I thought I had a positive, then there is a good chance that I might get a plus sign. I know I told myself I wouldn't test until the 29th. The end of the month. The make-it-or-break-it date for my ute to either bleed or incubate a babyJoe. I have never been a patient girl and my part of me is screaming inside, "PEE ON ONE FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD LADY!!! (that might actually be my bladder screaming at me. I am on the verge of peeing my pants while I make a decision)" The other part of me is terrified that it will be negative again and I will be one negative test closer to marching down to my Dr.'s and demanding that she confirm my ability to have a baby. I don't know how I will handle the answer. If I am this neurotic about ttc now, how will I be if I have a definite IF diagnosis????
ETA: Y'all knew I would POAS right?? Well I did, and whatdyaknow, it's a BFN. WTF?? FML! AND VARIOUS OTHER ABBREVS! I think I'll just sleep on the LazyBoy tonight to avoid waking Mr. Joe as I cry myself to sleep. I miss my brother. I can't become pregnant. I hate this.

Don't Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

So, in addition to my phone monkey job, I have a part time job to give me extra (ha. ha. HA!) money for the frivolous things I like to do, like eat. And have a warm house.
I work at a movie theater on the weekends and some weeknights. Most people would hate working extra, but honestly, I have fun most of the time. I love the kids I work with, and there is always something exciting (read: DRAMA!!!) going on. It also gives me plenty of opportunities to interact with the weirdos that go to the movies:
One night, I was working at the concession stand, taking orders and making drinks and popcorn for the guests. I had a line of 3 or 4 guests, and I noticed there was a guy at the end of my line just staring at me. Maybe the more appropriate word is gazing. He was totally GAZING at me and I was trying my best to NOT. FREAK. OUT. Because this guy was EW.
After 2 or 3 long minutes of him watching me help other people, I finally get to Creepy McStarey and he is the last guy in my line. At this point, I am all sweaty and flustered because this guy was giving me The Creeps. Its obvious that he's noticing my discomfort because he gives me a smile, and after I hand him his order and tell him to enjoy his movie, he thanks me and says,
"Don't take this the wrong way, but . . ."
Immediately I'm thinking that he's going to comment on my frownface. You see, my face is always in a natural frown, not because I'm sad, but because that's just how my face falls. I have to constantly be mindful of the corners of my lips, but with all the things running through my mind (like need groceries! must see TV shows! OMG COOKIES!!!), I am just too busy to always remember. I have had complete strangers stop me in WalMart, put a comforting hand on my shoulder (personal space!) and tell me everything is going to be okay. So I am thinking that this will be one of those situations, and that maybe he will complain about the sullen-looking frown face girl that gave him a coke and a grimace (its just my face I swear - please let me keep my job because the high school drama is to die for!) is ruining his movie going experience.
Oh no friends, this was not the case. Instead, he goes on to say:
"I like the teeth on you."
I'm sorry, what? I clearly had not heard that right. The icee machine next to me is super loud and melting my face (that thing gets HOT. To make iced drinks. hmmm). Maybe I have heat stroke.
"Your teeth. I like them."
Nope. He definitely said teeth. How does one respond to that? Out of the many features of my face, this guy picks my teeth? I always thought I had pretty run of the mill teeth. They're nothing to write home about! Why not comment on my beautiful complexion or my gorgeous eyes? Not my nose though, because this thing is a beak. My teeth? Really? I quickly run my tongue over them, and then instantly regret it. McCreepy is practically drooling. BARF. I quietly mumble a thank you and attempt to go about cleaning up after my last rush, but he wasn't finished "complimenting" me:
"You might have been made fun of as a kid, but I think they're beautiful. Have a good night!"
With that, he strolled off to see his movie, (whatever was the creepy, serial killer favorite at the time) but not before turning around one last time to give me a wink.
Now, let me be honest here - I was made fun of alot as a kid. As a child, I had a flair for the dramatic. I was weird. Really though, what kid isn't? I was made fun of for my glasses, my crimped hair (thanks, mom), not having the newest and coolest trapper keeper, and out growing my pants faster than I could replace them. NEVER FOR MY TEETH PEOPLE. NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT. NOT ONCE.
Back in the day, when someone was going to purchase a horse (and maybe they still do this, I'm not sure since I'm not in the market for a fine stallion) The purchaser would examine the horse before his purchase and one of the main horse parts to look at apparently, was the mouth. Good teeth meant the horse was worthy of ownership, poor teeth meant the horse was worthy of glue. What does this mean for me? Did McCreepy mean that I was worthy of purchase? Who gives this kind of compliment? For the rest of the night, I was terribly aware of my teeth and worried about how the kids in my 5th grade class back in elementary school felt about them. Were they that bad that even school children (who can be brutal and heartless about your not cool trapper keeper) knew my teeth were off limits? Should I look into veneers?
All this to say:
Thank you. Thanks alot McCreepy, for giving me a complex. With great looking teeth.

McFatty Monday

There is a reason why I love Diet Coke:

I am completely and irrevocably in love with addicted to it. Like, for reals.

In an effort to continue with McFatty Mondays (by the way, way to go Blair!) I attempted to cut Diet Coke out of my diet cold turkey. Please keep in mind that the only beverage I drink is Diet Coke. I know, I know, its horrible for you and everyone should drink a little water and maybe a milk or two here and there - believe me, I hear it all from the lunch lady at the office cafeteria. Every. stinkin. day. In her cute Spanish accent: "Dieeet Cooke again? Rrrrreally? You weeel be sorrrry! Drrreeenk soome waterrr eenstead!!" Oh Terry, how right you were!! If only I had leeestened to you earlier!

Anyway. I decided I needed to change things up because my weightloss had been at a standstill since I pledged my allegiance to McFatty Mondays and I don't think I'm ready to actually work out. Yet - not if there are still pounds to be lost without moving! Day one was yesterday. I made it all day without a drop of DC. I had none in the house to even tempt me to cheat. I drank water all day long. At around 7pm, my brains exploded out of my eyeballs and ruined my freshly painted living room walls.

At least that's what it felt like.

My head is pounding. I say is, because it didn't really stop from yesterday. All day at work today, all the way home, even now as I type this. I am in agony. I will not give up, though. I intend to go the distance.

The way I see it, if we do end up pregnant soon, I can't really enjoy diet coke anyway, so I might as well get this over with now. Hopefully, my pounding head will not be in vain!

I better see some results soon (one way or the other) or my head really will explode. Good luck to everyone this week!

So my house was on fire last night . . .

. . . but its not as bad as it sounds. Just an outlet, no other damage because thankfully I was right there when it happened and we got it under control right away. Sadly, we didn't need to call the fire department and invite delicious firemen into our home. I asked Mr. Joe if we could just let the whole house burn down and pretend that we weren't home, but it probably would have taken a long time to get going - it was a slow burn lol :-)

The best part of this is that I got to say I told you so to my hubby because when I was doing dishes the other day, I smelled something burning and searched until I discovered that the outlet was warm and smelled like burning rubber. The thing is, we had a cheap table/lamp combo from walmart plugged into the outlet, so we thought it was the lamp. We unplugged it, but for the rest of the night I was freaking out. Hubby laughed at me and told me I was overreacting, but I just knew that something was still not right.

The next night (last night) it was his turn to do the dishes, so he was at the sink with the dishwasher, garbage disposal and sink light on, and I started to smell the burning rubber again - even though the lamp was unplugged (sorry walmart, your products are not as shotty as I thought). I looked over at the outlet and SMOKE WAS BILLOWING OUT OF THE WALL!!!!!! I think I shouted "OMG! The house is on fire!!!" (I'm a total drama queen, I own that) and made him turn everything off. Then we had to shut off the breaker for that outlet, but we had no idea which one it was because the turds that owned the house before us mislabled everything, so we just kept shutting things off until we found it. At this point I called my dad, because, well duh - he knows everything (for really really).

when we finally pulled the outlet out of the wall, it looked like this (be ready to understand just how much I overreacted):

I KNOW RIGHT?? Those wires are supposed to be white, but they're brown/black. Totally burned because MY HOUSE WAS ON FIRE!!!!!!!

Also, we don't have smoke detectors, and this has just confirmed that we need to get on that. Nevermind that we have been living in the house for 2 years. I am the master of procrastination - I need to have a fire lit under my ass in my wall to get anything done. Consider it lit.

About that "Having a Baby" part . . .

In my last post I mentioned that we wanted to have a baby. To be clear I have wanted to have a baby since before Mr. Joe and I were married. It has taken some time, but he is FINALLY on board with the whole thing, and I am more than excited to start trying. The problem is, I am not the most "regular" of girls. We've been trying for about a year a now, and have had a couple of close calls, but we have yet to be successful. I used to be an every 28 days type of gal, but since about a year ago, I had two LOOONG stretches of time where I was without AF. At first I would get all excited, but after taking approx 27 tests each time (and thus draining all of my savings lol) I would resign to the fact that I was not preggo. My dr is great, but I feel like she may think I'm a pain because I call each time this happens, and its happened about 3 times in the last year. Each time she brushes it off, saying that for some reason, I just didn't ovulate. Because sometimes that happens. WHAT? Call me crazy, but if someone is trying to get pregnant, don't they need to ovulate? Don't you think they should be ovulating on a regular basis? I hadn't been temping or "actively" (meaning writing down my symptoms everyday) charting though, so the last two cycles I decided I would start keeping track of what I did and when I did it. Still didn't temp, because I always forget to (I am not a morning person - at all). October and November were somewhat normal cycles. December saw nothing from AF, but we did the deed right around the time I would have ovulated if I were perfect (which we all know I'm not), so I thought maybe this time we were knocked up. I've been testing and testing and bugging my bf Ronnie about it and nothing has come up positive.


Sooooo . . . instead of calling my doctor and feeling like a psycho, I decided to spend the 20 bucks on an ovulation predictor first. Last night I got this:

The box says if the test line is the same or darker than the control line, you had an LH surge. The line was darker in the fron and lighter in the back than the control line, so I wasn't sure what to think. Then, this morning, I got this:

That line looked a definitively darker than the control line. So does that mean I ovulated or that I will ovulate sometime today? If so, then there is a distinct possibility that we will be pregnant, since spermies can live up to 3 days and we have been steadily getting it on (which is probably the real reason why he decided to hop on board the baby idea).

If we are then that's great. If we aren't I'll be disappointed and confused as to why I didn't ovulate in the month of December and what my cycles are. I've been worried that I will have trouble conceiving for a while now. I've been lurking around TTC/Infertility blogs, crying for the bloggers, and subconciously, crying for myself. I don't think I have the strength that those ladies do. They're incredible people. I, on the other hand, am a big baby.

EEEEEEEK.

McFatty Mondays

Hey . . . not sure if anyone is going to read this (assuming I've been able to successfully link up) but I really wanted to jump on the McFatty band wagon because I love Blair (even though we've never met - she's just hillarious and reminds me of myself, minus the baby) and I have been trying to lose weight. After the past two years that I've had, I am ready to take on a new decade and looking forward to losing the weight that the stress of planning a wedding and dealing with merging 3 families in 2008 and losing my big brother to cancer in 2009 has allowed me to pack on. I met my now husband in 2002 and weighed about 140, maybe 135, but I was playing rugby at the time while going to school and working full time so I didn't really have time to eat. Over the years I bulked up to about 170 - and then 2 months ago, I started paying attention to what I ate and managed to knock off about 17 pounds or so. Today I weighed myself at 151. I really would like to lose about 10 more pounds. Or become preggo. Or both. I am going to try not drink Diet Coke the rest of the week. The operative word is try, I'm really addicted to the caffine and make pretend sugar. Here's what I look like most recently: I'm the one on the right. The one on my left is my MIL. Kidding. My MIL is actually great (and I really mean it, I'm a lucky gal) and skinnier than me. She freaked out the other day because she thought she was getting tubby and might have to wear clothes in my size. She is great, but sometimes she can say things without her brain approving them first. I know the picture is sucky, but I want to be semi anonymous so I can hide my true identity from all 2 people who might read this. You can kinda see how I am not obese, but not exactly thin.

So there you have it. I am going to try to lose 10 lbs. And have a baby. Or both. This is NOT a resolution, mind you! As a New Years resolution I am going to try to blog more often. Please don't confuse this with last year's resolution to try to blog more often. This time I, um, really mean it.