It's on

So...the thing I've been waiting months for arrived today. Not my period - the other thing, my buddy EWCM. Not a lot, just a glimmer of it, but undeniable. It appeared as I was on the toilet this evening and thought I heard B waking up so I was very distracted and went rushing in to the bedroom (he never wakes after going to bed now, so I assumed his waking up meant I should check on him in case he was in trouble). So in the moment I didn't really get to process what this meant. What this tiny little blob of bodily fluid means to me, my future, and Bumpus' future.

It means my fertility has at last returned. It means that I could start trying now, maybe. It means no more waiting, maybe. It means this is it. Do or die. I had kind of convinced myself that I was going to be stuck having to wait up to a year, and by then I may have changed my mind (remember, I have to shut down all fall and winter so as not to conflict with my event). As it is I have a very slim window now (it is May tomorrow already!). So. So many things to consider.

I have not actually had a period yet. After I had that 12 hour bleed thing as soon as I night weaned, I plugged it into my fertility app as a period so I could keep track, and exactly when the calendar said I should ovulate I had a lot of mittelschmerz cramping which I had before both of my successful IUIs. But no CM so I wondered if I had just imagined it. And then no period after when one should have showed. But now I'm back to ovulation time and here's the CM.

So. Do I go into the clinic and request an ultrasound to see what's going on in there? If things look promising, do I just go for it, right now? Ahhhhh!

Or do I wait two weeks and see if an actual period shows and plan to try in another month?

Unless there's a medical reason, I see no reason to wait - later, for me, is not better. If I go now I would be past the worst of the sickness by the time my event rolls around in four months. If I wait I'll have to endure my event horribly ill (unless I find a remedy which I would make a huge effort to do this time!). What if I wait and I still get no period and have to go through all this again next month, and I threw this month down the toilet for no good reason? Ugh!

But this is making so many assumptions. Assuming I'm actually ovulating and not just "trying" to like last time. Assuming my lining is in place (with no period, who the hell knows?). Assuming I get the timing right. Assuming this first little eggie is even viable. Assuming my body is even up to another pregnancy and won't just freak out and get rid of it like the first one.

But I'd much prefer conceiving with a 40 year old egg than a 41 year old one. I'd much sooner march right into another pregnancy when I'm already in baby mode. Especially now with B more or less off the boob, napping, and sleeping through the night. Especially now having given up most of the things I thought I could hang on to - sleep, travel, visiting family frequently, dancing regularly, disposable income. So. What do I do?

Calling the clinic tomorrow would make all of this real - it's so easy to get caught up in the fantasies of pictures of your two adorable children on your next Christmas card and forget how utterly unpleasant bringing children into the world actually is - for me, the bone-crushing nausea, the endless poking and prodding by medical professionals, the anxiety, the physical discomfort, the horrendous labor. I will never say it wasn't horrible a lot of the time because I know it was. I haven't forgotten, believe me. I just strangely feel I could hack it one more time, one last time, to bring another soul into this family. Oh boy.

One of my favorite swing tunes is Cab Calloway's "Don't Falter at the Alter." It talks about stepping up to get married and not letting your fears get the best of you; the final line is "your poppa didn't falter, son, that's why you're here." Now that EWCM has shown up...and this has all become real, will I falter...?

Mini muffin Monday, part II

Today I decided to improvise what I will call Fiesta Dinner Mini Muffins. Here is the recipe:

1 bag Mahatma saffron rice (or plain rice is fine), cooked ahead & cooled. I then used one cup of this.

1 can black beans, drained (I had pre-cooked that I used, but I'm assuming one can would be about the equivalent)

2 tbs canned green chilies

1 egg

1/3 cup shredded cheese

1/2 bag frozen chopped spinach (about 1/2 cup when cooked), boiled enough to warm up

Combine all & bake in mini muffin pan about 20 minutes at 350. I find these come out better when you fill the muffin tins only about 3/4 full (otherwise they tend to fall apart). I also would probably use non-stick spray a second time around.

I also didn't use any seasoning because of the very spicy & salty beans and rice. But if I used plain beans & rice I would probably use garlic salt, pepper, and maybe 1/4 tsp cumin.

B ate three of them as well as a handful of cooked carrots (I want to make sure he knows not all food comes in muffin form). It's also Day 3 of plunking him in front of the TV so I can sleep until 8 AM. Is this just a fluke or is this, like, a thing...? Kind of afraid to jinx it, honestly.

Today B took off his pants and threw them over the side of his playpen. Is that a statement?

Memory lane

Today I went on an architectural tour of Pasadena with Former Nemesis and her wedding planner and friend who, like FN, has a two month old baby. It's odd (and oddly gratifying) to be the "elder statesman" when it comes to mothers - I'm so used to asking advice of my friends with older kids and multiple children; it's rare to be the one being asked advice of. The tour was a bit of a bust in that the very first house we went to had a 45 minute wait in the sweltering heat; everyone was moaning and complaining. The two little babies slept and B was a little restless in his carrier but not too bad (I did a back carry all by myself for the first time! But honestly it hurt my shoulders so bad I ended up putting him on my front anyway). However I was pretty much over it after that - there were maybe ten houses to see and we only got to three of them. And honestly - they weren't that great. My house could be on one of those tours, if I do say so myself.

But we got to talking mom stuff - diapers, poop, breast feeding, cosleeping - you know, all of those topics that used to make me roll my eyes in disgust and boredom. The friend of FN said she was so amazed that I manage on my own (I never tire of hearing that, honestly), and then went on to say how much she and her husband butt heads over parenting decisions and how unsupportive he is (I never tire of hearing that, either). I did feel bad for her, though. With all the changes around here lately with trying to wean, bedtimes, and food issues, I can't imagine having to make those calls with another person - especially if we disagreed! It must be horrible.

It is funny to be around little itty bitty babies, though, with their little wrinkled feet and crossed eyes and floppy heads (it was after all Bobby's floppy head that earned him the name Bumpus). When I was assembling last night's pictures I was amazed by how different he was at one and two months - but then by three months he just was who he is now. I think once they can see it makes a huge difference; they really come to life at that point. It's funny to see the little babies' orangey little poops that run everywhere. Thankfully B now does one or two nice solid ones a day that roll conveniently into the toilet. We enjoy flushing them down and saying bye-bye.

I often think about "starting all over again", but it doesn't fill me with dread like it used to. As mentioned, I feel like I'd be so damned good at it a second time - I feel like I'd have so much less anxiety (not that I felt that anxious, but something kept me sleeping with the lights and TV on that whole first month). Although I will say that now that B and I have a real schedule going - naptime, lunch, breakfast, dinner, outings, playtime in the playroom, bed asleep by 7 - the idea of returning to the chaos that is caring for a newborn (the cluster feeds, the growth spurts, the random all night screaming) does not appeal to me. But something tells me I'd just have to be more regimented if there were a preschooler in the house that also needed his needs met. Things would just have to be run more efficiently around here than they were all last year. And I'm up to the challenge. I accept the vomit, right?

The last two days I've put B in the living room in his playpen and switched on the TV at 6 am so I could go back to bed. And it worked, sort of. He didn't start fussing until about 8 which is more reasonable. The first day I put on Pingu, the little penguin cartoon, but today I was too lazy and he ended up watching the 1970's costume sex romp Tom Jones. Whoops! Well in my defense it's hardly like he watches it anyway, it just keeps him company. I don't know if these two days of being able to go back to bed were just a fluke or if this can be a system for handling these god-awful early mornings; let's hope he stays content out there!

When FN and I decided to quit the tour we headed to a park so B could stretch his legs and her baby could be taken out of his carrier and eat. All of a sudden I look over and see Bumpus standing. Just standing up in the middle of the grass, not a care in the world. "Bumpus! Are you standing?" I asked him, incredulous. He promptly keeled over and bonked his head. But in that moment I was one proud momma.

Twelve months of Bumpus

By request, here's a summary of Bumpus month by month!

Graduating

We graduated to Bumpus' big boy car seat today. I had long ago weaned myself off of carrying B in the bucket seat (largely because it became too damned heavy) in anticipation of this day. It's such a relief to have that taken care of (thanks to Mom Guru's husband! Sometimes you do need a little male assistance!). It's hard to believe this is the carseat that will get him through most of his childhood years - I'll drive him to his first day of kindergarten in that seat! Crazy. I am keeping the bucket seat and base, however. You know, just in case.

I am still figuring out how best to handle the early mornings. I have tried a variety of options with mixed results. Lately I've been putting him in the playpen in the living room and lying on the couch (if I go back in the bedroom he usually ends up screaming). I put on a movie (I've been obsessively watching Michael Winterbottom's The Trip over and over) and try to sleep, which usually doesn't happen. I've also taken him to the playroom and laid down on the bed up there. But ugh. Mostly what happens is I just lie around in a stupor until one or both of us gets hungry. He was up at 5 AM today. Blah.

A friend in my book club has her daughter watch a show called Pingu when she has to take a work call at home; it doesn't have quick cuts, no language, and is really simple. Because it's on Netflix there's no commercials. I may give this a try and see if he'll hang out by himself in the living room. Honestly I didn't want to introduce him to kid's TV this early, but I'm desperate. If I can get even one more hour of sleep in the morning it would make such a difference!

At least everything else about his sleep is excellent - his new bedtime is 7 pm and he barely cries for two minutes before passing out; today he napped 1 1/2 hours in the crib in the day and was a peach the rest of the day because of it.

Lest you think all I can do is complain about how my kid drags me out of bed in the morning, I have to say we've been having some really nice times lately. He has a great sense of humor. Sometimes when he gets fed up he'll smack and swing his hands around in frustration, and when I do it back to him he cracks up. We can play catch now (sort of), and he thinks it's hysterical when I say "think fast!" and bounce the ball off him. He can now sit on my lap while I read a short book to him - he loves it when I make the animals make noises. I sing him one of my favorite camp songs and I can see him learning it and trying to sing along. He shoves his hands down my shirt every chance he gets.

Speaking of what's in my shirt, my boobs deflated very suddenly a few days ago. I also put on about four pounds. I do believe the magical breast feeding diet is officially over. Dammit.

Stages

Today solidified for me that B has come to the age where the hang-out-with-our-babies-on-blankets routine no longer works. I went to a meetup at an outdoor mall that had a kid's music thing...and it just sucked for me. Most of the babies in the group are younger than B - five to nine months old - and the difference between that age set and the over-ones is huge. I get it now, the restrictions some mommy groups have on babies' ages. When half the babies are lying peacefully on their blankets and the other half are trampling them and grabbing toys out of their hands, it just doesn't work. We of course are the tramplers.

So B kept crawling on to the awful straw-like fake grass (I called it "spray painted grass") that got all over EVERYTHING; every time I stood up a shower of it would come off of my pants and rain into the babies' mouths; B of course had it on every part of his body (including inside his diaper!!!), and of course kept eating it, and choking on it. And we all had to feed our babies lunch in the middle of this - and this frigging "grass" got all over all the food. Who the hell plans children's events on this kind of surface? It was like going to the beach without being prepared to go to the beach.

So pretty much the entire visit consisted of chasing B around as he put wads of synthetic grass in his mouth, wrenched the toys out of the little babies' hands and made them cry, and threw tantrums every time I took something out of his mouth or moved him. It sucked.

I'm thinking the best outings that involve other people from now on will have to consist of an actual activity, in particular walking while pushing him in a stroller. Or a playground where he can swing, or do something. Because he needs to explore, but exploring everyone's purses and trying to eat the other babies' food doesn't work for me. And if the point of doing these outings is for me to socialize with other mothers, that's out. I don't even get to say two words to anyone.

I know it sounds like I'm being a bitch and complaining about my adorable child who's just being completely age-appropriate. And this is true (about me being a bitch right now). But in my defense I'm being wrenched out of bed at 6 am every day and I am not doing well with it - I'm exhausted and fed up. I don't know how to entertain this child all day, every day, without losing my mind. Which is why I need some part time daycare, stat. I would like to say I at least get my evenings to myself so I can be productive, but so far this has not been true at all - by the time he's in bed (7 pm these days) I'm so worn out all I can do is stare into space for a few hours and then go to bed. So, not optimizing my time. Not at all.

I know I'm just going through a rough adjustment period and I will learn how to cope with some of these issues, or at least get used to them and adapt. Things will look up. But right now I'm just not feeling it. For the moment I think I need to choose activities that aren't going to make me nuts - and the putting the babies on blankets thing is not happening anymore.

In other news, I'm drying up, I've booked a trip to see a cousin in Florida for July (pray for me), and one of my chickens is dying. All righty then.

Listmania

I am a big fan of lists. Since I weaned myself off of my old New Yorker desk diary in favor of my IPhone calendar and notes apps instead, I find I make more and more lists - groceries, house projects, craft projects, recipes I want to try, songs I should sing with the band, not to mention tons of work-related lists (how many classes to give each dance instructor and at what rate, ideas for the following year, etc).

Since I am now meeting with my SMC thinker/trier group and hang out on the Facebook SMC group pretty regularly and am contemplating TTC #2, I have found myself thinking back to the time when I was theorizing about TTC Bumpus, and what similarities and differences there are between the two.

So here are two lists - one, two years later, looking back on why I wanted to try for one:

Because I was sick of waiting to be chosen by some man so I would have the chance to procreate.

Because my aunt had died and I felt our gene pool shrinking.

Because I didn't want to one day regret not having children.

Because I wanted to heal some of my childhood issues.

Because I didn't want to be the perpetual spinster aunt that everyone pities.

Because if I had to have one more bitter conversation with my ever-shrinking pool of single girlfriends about how annoying it is that everyone but us gets married and has kids I was going to drive off a cliff.

Here's why I have had a change of heart and am contemplating #2:

Because I want B to have a sibling, someone to share this experience with other than just me.

Because I feel I have a chance to do pregnancy and labor much healthier, smarter, and better, and heal the trauma of my last pregnancy and labor.

Because I want B to have someone to play with.

Because I want B to learn to share and be part of a group and not the sole focus of my attention (although I know I could still teach him these things without a sibling).

Because I want more of a legacy for our family.

Because I want to name something.

Because I don't want to regret not having tried for two when I had this tiny window of opportunity.

Because I'd be so darned good at this a second time around.

Because, on my best days, I feel like the universe is a good place that blesses people who are gutsy and take risks. That with the arrival of B I managed to break the "nothing good ever happens to me" spell. Because even knowing the potential heartbreak, even horror, that could await me going down this road, most days I just feel lucky. I feel like maybe, just maybe, I can pull this off, and it will all have been worth it.