Queen of Indecision

Today is a "why are we waiting?" day. 

It's an angsty, irritated, please-stop-posting-pictures-of-your-stupid-cute-baby-because-I-want-to-steal-him/her day. It's not an I'm happy that you're happy day. It's more like a why-do-you-have-what-I-think-I-want-but-can't-be-sure-until-I-have-it-but-then-it-will-be-too-late-and-I-will-just-be-a-ball-of-goo day. 

It's just uncomfortable. And frustrating. And stupid. And weird. And a lot of other adjectives.

I will probably be back to normal tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'll understand that we want to pay down our debt before we give birth to a drooling money pit. Tomorrow, I'll be appreciating the freedom of a day off without any obligations other than some work that I get done on my own time without any interruptions. 

But today, I want to punch my husband for not being in the mood right.this.minute.

Sigh. It's hip to be square (and angsty), kids.

FF and FD

I am a wife, a dog mom, a friend, a sister, a daughter, a boss, a counselor, a dictator, a type-a personality, a grammar nazi, a champion Ms. Pacman player, a shoulder to cry on, a realist and about a thousand other things. Those are all secondary to the first title I got as a child:

Daddy's Girl.

I am so much like my father that it might actually freak out my husband some. We have conversations without speaking, and we're just about always on the same page. He trusts me more than anyone else in my life, and he believes in me even more than that. 

My father and I are not particularly verbal about how we feel about each other. We tease each other non-stop, and that's our affirmation that we love each other. We don't need more than that. At my wedding, I cried one time. Hubs cried several, but I was a giggling rock for most of the proceedings. During the reception, my dad started the evening with a toast. Most of it has escaped my memory, but I remember it ended with this. "For 25 years, she has been my best friend." 

Water. Works.

You're my best friend too, Daddy.

We shoot emails back and forth basically non-stop because of work. We have yet to sign them with our names though. He signs his FF, and I sign FD. They stand for Favorite Father and Favorite Daughter. It started out as a joke because I'm the only girl, but it's turned into a thing. Years later, it's still the only way to close an email. 

It's not the only thing that has stuck between the two of us, though. I get just about everything that I do directly from my dad. 

From him, I get my twisted sense of humor. I get my ability to laugh at situations that probably aren't funny. I get my realistic look at things. I get my understanding that life isn't fair. I get my understanding that people who look for "fairness" are going to be consistently disappointed with how the world works. I get my passion for my family, but I also get the understanding that blood relation doesn't make it okay for you to take advantage of me or treat me badly. I get my avoidance of confrontation not because I'm scared but because most of the time nothing productive will come of it. I get my intelligence. I get my desire to never stop learning. I get my terrible eye sight. I get my two left feet. I get my ability to sing. I get my lack of desire to be the center of attention. I get my need to know I'm right without the need for you to be in agreement. I get my ability to know when to speak up and when talking is pointless. I get my understanding that if I want something, I better go get it. I get that, for the most part, no one owes me anything. I get my love of musicals. I get my love of the Beatles. I get my love of just about all music that isn't about slapping hos (and even some that is). I get my love of puns and bad jokes. I get my attraction to nerd culture. I get my ability to know when to just drop it. I get my detachment from certain things because being attached was just too hard. Did I mention the Beatles? I get my love for wishbones because he always used to save the wishbone from dinner for me. I get my love for bull mastiffs. I get my ability to be grounded in reality while still wanting to splurge maybe a little too often. 

Best of all, I get a relationship with the best person I have ever known. I get the worlds greatest support system so I can grab what I want while having a safety net if I miss. 

I get my Daddy. 

On your 74th birthday, FF, I hope you know how much you mean to me. You are the reason that I am who I am. I will always be happy with myself if I can continue to be so much like you.

Love, 

FD

PS: If there is one thing that he certainly taught me, it's that it's oh-so hip to be square kids. 

It's Whatever

As of last week, there was a very slight chance that I might have been pregnant. I am not, of course, and it was a huge overreaction. I even knew that at the time, but it's easier to ignore the obvious than accept the imperfection. While waiting through the agonizing week of knowing that any pregnancy test is going to show up negative, I had been going back and forth with one of my best friends with symptoms and possibilities and the question whether or not it was just the stomach flu. She is always my supportive older sister, so she gets the first phone call. She's the "Call when you think you're pregnant" friend. The rest are "Call when you know you're pregnant" friends. I love them all, but they have different purposes. 

Anyway, when the test came back negative, I sent her a text with the outcome. She wrote back, "Is this good news or bad news?" The only thing that I could come up with was, "It's whatever. Haha."

It really is whatever. I'm not heartbroken. I'm not sad. It's an opportunity and a roadblock. It's a roadblock because it means we start from the beginning. It's an opportunity because it means husband and I get to enjoy each other one-on-one for a while longer before adding someone else to the equation. That's what we want right now... I think.

It's whatever, but it's also hip to be square, kids. 

Better Now

I am better today than last night. Last night, I bordered on crazy person. I know and accept this. I would like to say that it was hormones, but it wasn't. Not THOSE hormones, at least. Just the normal kind that don't result in a tiny, drooling life form. 

I did something radical. I TALKED to hubs about it. Like, I opened my mouth and shared what I was thinking to someone who isn't a stranger on the other side of the computer screen. Amazing how it happens, right? It was like I let out a lifetimes worth of anxiety and frustration and worry. I expected him to tell me that I was nuts, but he didn't. He might have thought it, but he was smart enough to keep it to himself. I don't think he wanted to be punched in the mouth tonight. Furthermore, I think he, like, gets it.

Oh, right. I didn't think I would have married a complete moron. Good thing I didn't.

So, we go from here. Trying but not. Wanting a baby but knowing that making it a "thing" will make me a crazy person. We enjoy each other while we can, and we hope for another in the future. 

It really is hip to be square, kids.

Relax Crazypants

This week has been really hard. I'm getting overwhelmed by this whole process. We've barely started, but I am having so much trouble enjoying the "fun part" of conception because I'm so obsessed with the outcome. The idea of waiting months or years for the anticipated outcome is making me nervous. I'm putting pressure on a "What if" situation, and I walk around all day feeling like I'm going to explode. 

Right now, my heart is pounding. Actually, you know what? My heart pounds ALL.THE.TIME. There is nothing wrong with my heart. It's my head that's the problem. It's the pressure that I'm putting on this situation because I'm impatient. The fact that this is something that happens to my body but I cannot be in control of it is going to make me hyperventilate. There are too many variables. There are too many possible timelines. Part of me just wants to forgo makin' a baby all together just because I feel like I'm going to crack under the pressure.

The sick part is that the only one who is putting pressure on me is me. No one else. Husband is on board for whatever. Family expects nothing right now. Friends still think that I think kids are stupid. They're still right, but I just want a stupid thing that is all mine that I can screw up just like my parents did me. 

I feel like I'm going to give myself a panic attack over a situation that I know I am creating. I just want to turn off the obsessive thoughts about when and why, but I feel like my maternal instinct refuses to hit the snooze button. I want to coach myself on how to relax, but I refuse to listen to the voice in my head. 

I've been throwing myself into work so I have something else to think about. I'm constantly browsing stores that I love online or watching mindless tv so I don't think about it. I know that this is never going to work out if I keep this so intense. I want to enjoy that time with my husband and not worry that we're doing it at the right time or with the correct motivation. He's my flipping husband. 

Right now, I just want to burst in to tears. I'm obsessing. I'm on the verge of making myself crazy.

Now I know why mothers scream at their children. If this is what it's like before the little bundle of stupid is even a twinkle, I can't imagine actually putting up with it. 

But, even when it's stressful, it's hip to be square, kids.

Imaginary Setbacks

Today, I am disappointed. I feel like I let myself down. This is all silly considering I've done nothing wrong, but I still feel like I dropped the ball.

Basically, the window for giving it the old college try for this month is over. We can still practice until next month, but we missed the chance to make our own little crying monster for approximately the next 4 weeks.

This doesn't mean never. It doesn't mean we're done trying. It doesn't really many anything other than not right this second.

But right this second is what I want. I hate the idea that you come to this big decision and then it's this whole question-marked waiting game of timing and trying and hoping and minor disappointment that could be major disappointment. I wish you could just decide and then *POOF*, Glenda the Good Witch shows up with a tiny little pooping machine. Or a baby. Whichever.

Alas, that isn't the way it works. The mere decision to try to have a baby does not bring forth a baby. In fact, it makes things worse if you're like me. It makes you go "WHEN WHEN WHEN WHEN WHEN WHEN WHEN?!?!?!?!?" and then you feel like you're going to 'splode. You feel like you have to plan out your sexual encounters for maximum procreational capacity. It kind of takes the fun out of something that is usually just really, really fun. 

I don't want to be stressed about this, but I don't know how not to be. I just want it to be now so badly. I just don't want to keep this inside anymore. I want to feel like I have a justification for wanting a little monster of my own. For a normal person, just being married and ready is enough. I'm not normal. Just wanting one doesn't make it okay for me to be okay with wanting one. I can't explain it. Basically, I'm a moderately maternal hot mess of twisted confusion. 

That's nothing new, though.

Sigh. It's hip to be square, kids.