A New York State of Mind

It has been quite a week!

Looks like we're moving to NYC, and this came as a bit of a surprise... a very, very welcome surprise - but a surprise nevertheless. We are beyond excited... like over the moon... but we've had to act very quickly. We need to get ourselves, our pups and some of our stuff moved to the other side of the continent in less than four weeks.

And is anyone aware of just how hard it is to find a place in NYC in the summer? Trust me when I tell you, it's bad enough to try to rent in NYC in general, but the summer seems to be brutal.

Checklist:

1. Give notice to current landlord (Check).
2. Hire broker, find an apartment in NY that isn't a shoebox. (Check... well, first half anyway. Second half pending).
3. Sell virtually every piece of furniture (In the works).
4. Pare down everything. If you haven't used it in a year or more, it goes. (In the works).
5. Sell car (Slated for this weekend).
6. Find a mover that won't totally screw us over (Check).
7. Take deep breaths (As soon as I'm done writing this).
8. And finally, somewhat reluctantly, put baby-making on hold for a bit, until the dust settles.

That last one is intense, given our circumstances, I know.

But here's the thing...

We've been trying - and it hasn't worked out yet.

And this DREAM JOB came along... and it will literally make our lives SO MUCH EASIER, and therefore better for a potential baby, so it's all good.

That said, we're still planning to kid, but this has messed with our odds a bit. We are very much aware that it's a bit of a gamble, which is why if we are unable to procreate ourselves, we are just as excited to potentially adopt.

And once we get around to kidding, I hope to make it look as easy as SJP here, even though I know I'll fail dismally.

Hopefully I'll still rock my lipstick and heels - but the heels might have to come down an inch or two.

Of course, this also raises the question of what it will be like to raise a NY baby. This thrills and scares the living bejeezus out of me.

Finally! A Reasonable Explanation as to Why I am an Underachiever

My exceptionally talented and wildly intelligent friend Kristopher Dukes, whose website is nothing short of fabulous, posted about an article she'd read in Psychology Today entitled, "The Trouble With Bright Girls."

The gist is as follows:

More often than not, bright girls believe that their abilities are innate and unchangeable, while bright boys believe that they can develop ability through effort and practice.


...bright girls, when given something to learn that was particularly foreign or complex, were quick to give up - and the higher the girls' IQ, the more likely they were to throw in the towel. In fact, the straight-A girls showed the most helpless responses. Bright boys, on the other hand, saw the difficult material as a challenge, and found it energizing. They were more likely to redouble their efforts, rather than giving up.

Why does this happen? What makes smart girls more vulnerable, and less confident, when they should be the most confident kids in the room? At the 5th grade level, girls routinely outperform boys in every subject, including math and science. So there were no differences between these boys and girls in ability, nor in past history of success. The only difference was how bright boys and girls interpreted difficulty - what it meant to them when material seemed hard to learn. Bright girls were much quicker to doubt their ability, to lose confidence, and to become less effective learners as a result.

Kristopher's response to the above was:

"So that’s why it’s 8 pm, I’m still sitting in my Marlies Dekkers, staring at my MacBook, thinking maybe I wasn’t meant to write a Great American E-Book instead of pushing myself to do so. I’m glad I found this article and was able to understand how it applies to what I’m dealing with right now."

This is something I can wholeheartedly relate to. I cannot even begin to count all of the times I've taken something on that was extremely challenging for me, only to quit because I wasn't immediately exceptionally brilliant at it.

The best example I can think of was my foray into Tae Kwon Do about 8 or so years ago. I was extremely enthusiastic about the prospect of learning a martial art - and the idea of being able to kick some serious ass - and I dove right in to classes multiple times per week. I was elated when I was able to chop through multiple boards with my own hands - and felt as if I was invincible. And then came the challenge that did me in. In order to 'graduate' from yellow belt to purple, (or whatever the colors were), I had to break a few boards with my foot. For whatever reason, I was crazy intimidated by this - and when it came to test day, I failed... dismally. It was heartbreaking. I left the class without having obtained my fancy new purple belt, and I drove home in tears. I felt like I was 13 years-old all over again.

I never went back.

Talk about a perfect case-in-point.

Needless to say, this is a terrible character flaw. It's embarrassing and inexcusable - and I hate the idea that because I happen to be a girl, I was somehow wired to behave this way. WTF?!?

If we manage to produce a child - and it's a girl - and she tries to quit something that she seems to be passionate about just because she's not immediately perfect at it, I'm going to do everything in my power to convince her not to give up.

You can read the whole article from Psychology Today here.

Alright Death... I've Got a Game Plan

Now that we're embarking on all of this kidding nonsense, I've been marveling at how I've begun to look at things quite differently - like death for instance.

Anyone who knows me well, or has been reading this blog for any length of time is aware of my overwhelming fear of the inevitable. It's been an almost crippling issue for me in so many respects, that I could probably write an entire book about it. Perhaps this is why I'm somewhat amazed that I think I may actually be getting over it. It's remarkable at what even the prospect of becoming a parent makes you think about.


What really sealed the deal for me was an article in New York Magazine, that quite frankly, I think should be REQUIRED READING for pretty much everyone - parents and children alike: http://nymag.com/news/features/parent-health-care-2012-5/index6.html

Why? Because it addresses an issue that is predominantly unique to ours and our parents' generations. People are living longer than ever before - and while medical miracles are nice and all, there comes a point where you have to ask yourself - is this life really worth living anymore? And what if you're not even capable of asking yourself that question? What if you're the uber-elderly patient... a shadow of your former self who appears to be living in a state of constant discomfort, confusion and irritability? Do you really want that to be your children's last memory of you? Do you want to subject them to years - possibly decades of service as your caretaker? Do you want to drain yours and quite possibly your children's savings to sustain a life that barely resembles a life anymore?

I know I don't.

And now that we're planning on kidding, I'm diligently working towards embracing my inevitable death as an eventual blessing to any children I may be fortunate enough to have. Further to that, I am embracing the idea of what I would like to be a celebration of my life in lieu of a funeral. No dark, dreary costumes at the end for me... no seemingly endless series of speeches talking about how wonderful I may have been, (or not)... just a party. I want anyone willing to show up to promise that they will only share anecdotes about time we spent together to whomever feels like listening. That's it. Nothing morbid - nothing sanctimonious... just a nice little gathering of friends and family with plenty of food, alcohol and great music.

Don't get me wrong... I want to live as long as I possibly can in good health - to support our children and whatever lives they may choose for themselves, but I never want to become a painful burden that adversely impacts every corner of their lives. I want them to see me go as peacefully as possible. I want them to remember the good things... the celebrations, the love and the laughter... not a decade or so of what can really only be described as a living hell - one that I'm pretty sure any God that might exist never intended.

And because of that, I'm going to have a very specific, solid plan in place when I hit that wall.

Of Course!

So no less than 24 hours out from having posted that John and I have decided that we want children, do I receive a call from my OBGYN who tells me that everything is fine... except that my "ovarian reserve" appears to have been "somewhat depleted." Her advice? Stop waiting and start trying to get knocked up... NOW.

I get this call at work. I'm sitting at my desk and had just finished texting my girlfriend and the phone rang. Unknown number. Generally, I don't answer these, but something told me to pick up the phone - and I did - and for the next hour, I was in complete shock. I know I'm 35 and I'm getting into that precarious age range for having children... but I thought I could get away with waiting just a teeny tiny bit longer, because I JUST TURNED 35. Countless women I know have had babies at 36, 37, 38, 39... and most recently... forty-fucking-two! In any case, after I hung up the phone, I started to cry.

According to my doctor, it would be incredibly risky to wait at this point. In fact, even another month or so might seriously jeopardize my chances of getting pregnant based on a variety of tests. She wants us to try to get pregnant - and if I can't do so in the next couple of months, she's referring me to a fertility specialist... something I'm not entirely sure how I feel about just yet.

Bottom line? I am out of wait time. It's go time... NOW. I suppose this makes the title of my last post all the more appropriate... and real. No more kidding around folks. I've got to make the most of whatever eggs I've got left. Heading out to pick up a few ovulation kits today.

Fingers crossed. Legs uncrossed.

Lovely.

Dim the Lights... Here We Go!

Oh bloggity blog... how I have missed thee! For reasons I cannot divulge, I had to take my blog down for a bit. It was quite maddening, because while it was down, I felt like there was a particularly massive onslaught of juicy stories about parenting and children that I was DYING and I mean DYING to write about. (Hello... TIME Magazine cover anyone?!?!)

To boot, I've also been dying to share something with all of you. We have decided that at some point, (not saying when), we will be kidding! Come hell or high water, we will have a baby... or two.

So there you have it folks. The decision is made. Ta da!!! And perhaps it's fate that I'm announcing this today, on the very day that I discovered another woman, struggling with the very same decision, happened to start a blog quite similar to mine sometime late last year. The most frustrating part? Hers is better. It's prettier and more well-written. So, for those of you who want to continue to read about one woman's confusion about the prospect of babymaking, I give you this: www.maybebabymaybenot.com

As for me, I'll be starting up a new blog shortly. Guess what it's called??? Go on... guess.

The Case Against Kids... Maybe Abortion is Green

Two things came across my desk recently that gave me pause.

An article in the New Yorker exploring whether or not procreation has actually become immoral.

http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2012/04/09/120409crbo_books_kolbert

It's about 4 pages long and not surprisingly, it's very analytical/intellectual and to be honest I really only skimmed it because of two things:

1. I've become a lazy Internet reader and

2. The other thing came across my desk that in my humble opinion, more succinctly got to the point.

"Abortion is Green" according to Doug Stanhope



And, if you're even lazier than me and don't feel like reading the entirety of The New Yorker piece, the gist of that article is as follows:


Global population is expected to hit eight billion around 2025, which is to say about ninety-five years later than Knowlton predicted. No one in his right mind supposes that it could reach sixty-four billion without horrific consequences, except perhaps a few economists.

The decision to have a child, or one more child, or yet another child may seem to be a personal one—a choice about how many diapers you want to change in the short term versus how many Mother’s Day cards you hope to receive later on. But to see it in these terms alone is to be, as Caplan points out on the cover of his book, selfish. Whatever you may think of Overall’s and Benatar’s conclusions, it’s hard to argue with their insistence that the decision to have a child is an ethical one. When we set the size of our families, we are, each in our own small way, determining how the world of the future will look. And we’re doing this not just for ourselves and our own children; we’re doing it for everyone else’s children, too.


But again, if you're going to make a case against procreation, I think Doug Stanhope really says it best:

"Their combined uterii will wreak more havoc on the environment than 1,000 DOW chemical corporation accidents combined" and perhaps better still:

"If you want to help Mother Earth, try sodomy. Sodomy is eco-friendly and abortion is green."

GUEST POST! Dear Self: You Will NOT Procreate Again

Dear Self,

Open this letter if you even start to THINK about having another kid.

You must look like a total freak at the early childhood program. (Even the fact you've just written those words early childhood program is indicative of just how much of a crazed parent you are). When you drop off your 3 year-old and 3 month-old each day, you're usually clad in clothing that you've put on backwards or inside-out and spit up is worn proudly as your accessory du jour. (It is not a trend that will catch on anytime soon). Sometimes, you're wearing multiple outfits thanks to spit up - and that's just what's on the outside! You should see the contents of your own brain. They are in a state of complete disarray. In fact, you're not even sure if you're keeping your thoughts inside your head at all. You mommies like to think that you've got this multitasking thing down pat - but you do not - not by a long-shot.

This letter to yourself is intended to remind you - yes YOU - JENNIFER RAE WILHELM, that this parenting shit is hard. Don’t forget this dear self! Don't let the precious little faces and adorable little voices and gestures confuse you. Parenting is not all sunshine and rainbows. As an aside, it’s ironic that this letter will be published on your friend Leigh’s blog - which is all about whether or not she and John should have kids and that whole journey. God Bless her either way, but for you, you are 100% done kidding!

Here are some things you should remind yourself of if you even begin to contemplate having another:

No sleep. Always exhausted.
Can’t. String. Thoughts. Together. Did you already mention that? I bet you did! Go back and re-read the introductory paragraph.
Haven’t been able to hang out with your husband without your kids. You miss that. Not to mention he’s working a lot. You miss him in general.
While you wrote this, you were watching your 3 month-old while writing, cooking and simultaneously creating your yearly photo album - and nothing is really getting done... but you promised Leigh that you'd finish this, so you're desperately trying to focus.

Where were you?

Your kids sure are cute. Hmm... it might be nice to try for a boy you're thinking. No self! Stop that. Don't even dare start up again!

Don't forget - you and your husband have talked about getting him a vasectomy. Conveniently, right in the Austin area where you live, there is a doctor who performs this procedure. His name is Richard Chop. That’s right folks Dick Chop.

For now, you've opted for the IUD Paraguard. It lasts for 10 years and is non-hormonal. Not that your husband wasn’t on board with the vasectomy thing, but Paraguard was very easy and your insurance covered the cost. (You also enjoy knowing that it can be removed, freeing up your uterus for baby number three - but for the love of God, don't even think about it. In fact, you may want to revisit the vasectomy topic with the hubby as soon as you finish reading this).

Which brings us back to your friendly reminder to yourself not to have more kids.

It’s hard to find time to shower.
It’s hard to go to bathroom without someone needing something from you.
You don't remember what it's like to be able to sit down and eat. Really truly enjoying a meal in peace is a thing of the past. Not to mention when you’re nursing - you're literally tied to the kid.
You have to plan your mommy-time "adult" drinks in advance and any/all time away from the kids.
Last night your husband was working late, and both of your girls needed you. Your 3 month-old was crying and your 3 year-old needed help with her bedtime routine. You heard yourself think, “I don’t like my life right now,” and you sang to remind yourself that this too would pass.

Yes, you count my lucky stars everyday for being blessed with two healthy, adorable, wonderful girls. You love them to the ends of the Earth, but trust yourself here... you do not want another!

While there is nothing quite like the audible gasp when your 3 year-old is excited, or the creative, beautiful things she says like, “Mommy, why do the stars stay in the sky?” you have your fair share of all of that already - and bringing another baby into the picture is a bad idea. While these precious moments are incredible reminders of why you became a parent in the first place, do not misinterpret them as a 'sign' or anything of the sort to go get yourself knocked up for a third time!

Remember that nothing in life that is truly worth it is easy and love is no exception, and all of the exhaustion and lack of "you" time has been worth it - but do you really want to put yourself through it again? No. You do not. So future self, just to reiterate: This shit is hard and you are DONE!

Much love,

Yourself

The Great Equalizer - Guest Post by John Brian Fountain - Potential Baby Daddy

Whenever the discussion about 'babies' comes up, a lot... quite understandably... is said about 'birth'.

I'd like to talk about death.

It's amazing how much stuff it seems parents try to jam into the heads of their children before they've even begun to teach them about some of the fundamentals - one of which is that one day, we will all die. Now before you start calling me a ghoul, stay with me on this...

It never seems to occur to almost any of us that life has one absolute guarantee attached to it no matter who you are: You are going to die.

It doesn't matter if you're a prince or a pauper... famous, infamous, or just your everyday Joe... The one absolute in life is that we ALL eventually die. It could happen 108 years after you're born or you might not even make it out of the womb, but it WILL happen to everyone. Death is supposed to happen... it's part of the natural order of things. Why shouldn't we have a better attitude about something that is so clearly a cosmic staple?

We'll overload kids with math, science, history, sports, entertainment and a million other things, but when it comes to the subject of death, the majority of us tend to get very skittish, and many parents I've known ignore the subject entirely. When it comes to teaching our kids, we seem to put a lot of importance on rote memorization and 'feeling good' about ourselves. Even the most well-meaning of religions seem to drop the ball on the whole issue of death. You can preach about Heaven until Judgement Day, but most people are still afraid of death, even with promises of a "better place" for those who are deemed deserving.

How is it that as a society that seems obsessed with deconstructing every aspect of life becomes so painfully bashful when it comes to talking about the ONE thing that we all have in common? Some people get to live longer and do more stuff, but if you spend your life comparing yourself to others and perpetually charting what other people have versus what you have, you're essentially wasting whatever time you actually have here. And that being said, whenever people say, "life isn't fair," I'm inclined to respond, "Well, yes it is... we all die. It's the great equalizer."

Fortunately for me, I'm not afraid to die. Early on in my childhood, I was taught not to fear death. Their method happened to be in the form of Christianity and religious conviction, but I feel as though that's just one possible way to handle it. I believe that as long as you have an open dialogue about it, the particulars aren't nearly as important as an overall sense that "this is how it is." As a result, it has freed me from a lot of the anxieties that seem to cripple a lot of other people, including Exhibit A - my beloved wife Leigh, your gracious blog host here. In all other ways, she's as tough as nails, but when it comes to the idea of being dead, it freaks her out to no end.

How many folks out there can trace their deepest demons to the fact that they are terrified of death? I'm not saying I'm a perfect specimen, but I don't waste a lot of time fretting over the one thing that I know for certain will happen to me one day - as well as the distinct possibility that when it happens, I may not even see it coming. I will die - and so will you - and so will your children. Yes, your children will die one day. And they need to know this, and embrace it early on. Perhaps it will enable them to lead a more fulfilling life and a life without fear of the inevitable. Yet, it seems that the fear of the one guarantee in life is the very thing that drives people to all sorts of kooky and/or destructive behavior: drug and alcohol abuse, crackpot religions, self-loathing, self-doubt, etc.

Don't misunderstand me, either... I'm as afraid of the process of dying as the next person - and I most certainly fear potential pain and suffering that may accompany that process, but 'being dead'? No problemo.I guess what I'm getting at here, is that if we have a kid, one of my primary goals will be to instill in them a healthy attitude about death. I don't think it does anyone any favors to tiptoe around it and treat it as this big, awful secret.

Likewise, Leigh and I have already agreed that if we decide to kid, teaching them about death will be my domain, and I embrace the responsibility wholeheartedly.

To quote Epicurus, my favorite of the Greek philosophers: "When we exist death is not, and when death exists we are not."

Grim Reaper drawing by artist AellaPax of DeviantArt.com.

Friends with Kids

Oh boy. What interesting timing.

When I first read the synopsis for this movie - I couldn't help but be pretty darn amused:

FRIENDS WITH KIDS is a daring and poignant ensemble comedy about a close-knit circle of friends at that moment in life when children arrive and everything changes. The last two singles in the group observe the effect that kids have had on their friends' relationships and wonder if there's a better way.

And there was an LA Times article this morning about Jennifer Westfeldt - the Producer, Director and Lead Actress in the movie - who is 42 years old and childless, (in real life that is). And here's the most intriguing snippet:

"Friends With Kids" grew out of Westfeldt's personal experience. She took note of the collateral damage parenthood can inflict on couples, the anger and frustration that can arise between the sleep-deprived spouses as they negotiate the division of responsibilities and the demands of a new baby.

Similarly, Westfeldt's unlucky-in-love Julie watches the marriages of her peers - husbands and wives played by Maya Rudolph and Chris O'Dowd and Kristen Wiig and Hamm - begin to disintegrate after they become parents, so she opts to have a baby with her best friend, Jason ("Parks and Recreation's" Adam Scott).

Anyway, I get the distinct impression that the movie will cover a lot of the topics I have already covered ad nauseam in this blog. Interestingly, I am fairly confident that I can see this movie without second guessing all of the aspects of opting to kid or not to kid, that John and I have already definitively come to a conclusion about.

Tommy Jordan. Hero or Horror?

You've probably seen this video - and you probably have some very strong opinions about it. That said, you may not have seen the father in the video on The Today Show this morning, so you should definitely check this out:

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/46652561/ns/today-parenting_and_family/t/laptop-shooting-dad-i-stand-behind-what-i-did/#.T1eXlHl-FkQ

Here's what I totally dig about Tommy Jordan:

He's human.

He's what I admire about Tommy Jordan:

He's smart, articulate, funny, humble, and admits when he may have made a mistake.

'Cause sometimes parents do.

Even Matt Lauer acknowledged how impressed he was with this guy - despite the fact that he didn't agree with what he did.

Do I think that his laptop mutilating extravaganza might have been overkill to some extent? Sure. But it was also funny (or at least to me anyway) and it seemed to do the job. And quite frankly - despite the fact that I'm not a parent - I wholeheartedly understand how some parents can get extremely overwhelmed when their various methods of 'punishment' don't produce satisfactory results. It's not surprising that some resort to fairly extreme measures in order to get the message across loud and clear.

And guess what? In this case, it worked! Look, Tommy Jordan admitted to overreacting, but hey... his daughter is now well-aware that badmouthing your parents and using profane language online is a very bad idea. I highly doubt that she'll ever do it again. Lesson learned.

Oh - and Tommy Jordan also saved his daughter's hard drive before he started his laptop annihilation. Clearly this is not some hillbilly madman who lost his temper. He came up with a creative plan, executed it, (ha), and is fairly pleased with the results. I don't blame him.

Why do I sympathize? Well... (sorry Hayes), but my brother was an absolute terror. He didn't respond to punishment at all. From the day he emerged from the womb, Hayes managed to get into boatloads of trouble - and virtually nothing... no punishment, big or small, seemed to have an impact. Sure there were tears, but he'd quickly forget the ramifications of his actions and be back into trouble in mere seconds. My parents had to resort to some pretty extreme parenting to try to keep him in line - and even then, their methods were fairly futile. And for the record, I don't approve of some of the methods my parents utilized... but I understand why they resorted to a few questionable approaches.

In any case, if we kid, I hope we never have to resort to anything quite this extreme, but if we do... well, then hopefully we'll come up with something equally as powerful, effective and all-around entertaining as this.

Pretty Pretty Princesses and Mass Murderers

The other day I asked John to record the NBC News at Noon, because they were doing a story on whether or not it is detrimental to children to allow them to dress up as princesses.

I was sort-of surprised they were doing a story on this at all... but perhaps that's a noontime news thing. I don't really know. In any case, it was pretty much a non-story. There were no new studies or perspectives on the matter. It's as if they just threw the debate out there and didn't really come to any definitive conclusions, so I'm going to take the liberty of doing that for them!

I am a full-fledged girly girl. Always have been. While I have no recollection of ever having dressed up as a princess, I adored the slew of Disney incarnations, and I'm sure I had my fair-share of princess-inspired paraphernalia, whether it was dolls dressed as princesses, tutus, tiaras or otherwise.

In any case, it didn't fuck me up. I didn't actually aspire to be a princess at any given point. I didn't have delusions of grandeur, or expect some prince to come and rescue me from who-knows-what, or behave in any way like a princess.

I feel like I've read about and heard about a lot of parents who object to the whole princess thing altogether. Frankly, I don't get it. What's wrong with playing any role, or dressing up as anything? It's play-acting! I mean, don't get me wrong, if we kid - and our child happens to dress up as a princess and then proceeds to behave like one, well, that will not be tolerated. But wearing a tiara? Fine by me.

And to further illustrate my point here - you may all recollect a recent commercial that was universally adored, wherein a young child is dressed up as Darth Vader. Darth Vader... mass murderer and killer of younglings. Yet parents around the world have no objections to their children dressing up as this character. Why? Because he's a great character - he's iconic - and because the children aren't going to grow up to be Darth Vader, unless they've got some seriously deep-seated issues which, costume or not, would've reared their ugly heads regardless.

Post Birth Necessities I Wish I'd Never Heard Of.

Lately I've been giving a lot more thought to the prospect of being pregnant. (I'm sure those of you reading this may have already come to that conclusion). Having been blogging about the whole to kid or not to kid debate for a while now - regardless of what our ultimate decision is - there are things that I've managed to finally get over.

I'm over the fear of getting fat. I'm over the boy vs. girl thing. I'm even starting to believe that if you really want something, you can make it work. I'm also fairly convinced that I'd make a great mom. (I already know John would make a great dad). That all said, a handful of things still scare the living hell out of me. (In no particular order):

1. Hormones. PMS is one thing. Pregnancy? Another thing entirely. If I ever do get knocked up, I fear for John's sanity... and my own.

2. Death. People still die giving birth right? I know it's highly unlikely - but still. Scary, scary stuff. What's that whole preeclampsia business? I see pregnant women all over the place who look happy and carefree - not a worry in the world. What is up with that?!?

3. Stillbirth. I can't imagine anything worse. Miscarriage is one thing... this is another entirely. Again, I know it's highly unlikely - but that doesn't help allay my fears... whatsoever.

4. Everything about the birthing process. I will undoubtedly want a c-section - and no... not because of scheduling issues or because I'm a wuss, but because I have a legitimate enough reason to believe that actually going through a natural birth might be harder on me than most women. Do not ask questions please. Or if you must, don't expect an answer.

And on the topic of the birthing process - my dear friend Jen W. (one of my faves), recently sent me this awesome book, "Happy Chaos" by Soleil Moon Frye. Many of you may remember Soleil from the TV series Punky Brewster. I know I do. I obsessed over that show. I idolized Punky and desperately wanted to be adopted by a grumpy old man and a dog. And I wanted a treehouse... among other things, but I digress.

Soleil wrote a part-memoir, part-tell-all-manual for those of us non-parents looking to familiarize ourselves with what parenting might look like - as well as for those of us who are already parents. What's great about it is that it is not preachy... AT ALL! It's just informative and fun!

Anyway, I'm only about 60 pages in... but one particular passage continues to haunt me - and that would be Soleil's description of the post-birth phenomena that consists of the gigantic fishnet granny panties, the enormous latex glove filled with ice and the vaginal numbing spray.

Evidently, if you do have a natural birth - this is what the all-too-cavalier nurse will greet you with after the fact. And evidently, you will want, and truly enjoy these items.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Like I said, if I do go this route, I think I'm insisting on a C-section.

Go ahead and judge. Nothing you say will convince me to do otherwise.

Anyway, thanks Soleil for bringing this horror fest to my attention. Forewarned is forearmed!

And thanks to my other friend Jenny Feldon - mommy blogger extraordinaire, who also brought this book to my attention - and who happens to pen her own blog - www.karmacontinued.com - and contributes to Soleil's cool website - www.moonfrye.com too.

Enjoy all of their motherly musings.

Fertility Advice From a Plastic Cup

So I had an interesting conversation with a friend of mine last week - who announced that he and his girlfriend were expecting. I was semi-astonished for a multitude of reasons, including the fact that I never really thought this person would become a dad - and additionally, the fact that both he and his girlfriend are over 40. That gave me hope... for a minute anyway. That being said, he wound-up scaring the living shit out of me. (THANKS FRIEND!) Why? Well, he reminded me that I am approaching the "precipice" of fertility. Which is to say that as of this Thursday, February 16th, when I turn 35, I will start the downward slide into potential infertility. In fact, I sort-of already have - and it only gets worse.

With every year that passes at this point moving forward, my chances of conceiving a child decrease exponentially. Woohoo! With that said however, today's post was written by said friend, who has provided us all with an interesting perspective on how male fertility can often be the culprit in the lack of conception - something that most doctors and fertility specialists overlook far too frequently:


For those of you who have decided “to kid,” here is some baby-making knowledge about fertility from a male who got his lady pregnant the hard way. (And by hard way I mean years of my life and nearly $100K of my savings.)

Things your gynecologist probably never told you:

Over 40% of fertility issues involve the male partner.
20% to 30% of fertility issues are exclusively with the male partner.

Most of you at this point are probably asking “What does this mean for me?” and “Really $100K?" Let’s address both questions simultaneously.

Like the Wedding Industry, the Fertility Industry is almost exclusively catered to the woman. Almost all doctors will try to fix infertility on the female side alone.

In our case, after trying to have a kid “naturally” for over a year, my partner’s Gyno recommended we spend $2,000 on IUI (insemination) without once suggesting that we test my sperm. After IUI failed, her next recommendation was that we go to a fertility doctor for IVF (in-Vitro Fertilization). Once again, she referred us to this method without ever considering that the problem may be on my side.

After failing at over $10,000 of IVF, this fertility doctor suggested we use donor sperm or that I might try a urologist.

Like many of you, I thought Urologists were “pee-doctors” but here’s the secret... while most urologists are pee-doctors, there is a specialty of Urology dedicated to Male Sexual Health. (Remember this phrase.)

Urologists specializing in Male Sexual Health are basically the male equivalent of Gynecologists. They can diagnose sperm in much greater detail and are expert at improving sexual health and overcoming male infertility.

After getting multiple referrals, I went to Dr. Scott Zeitlin who teaches at UCLA Med School who this Plastic Cup endorses wholeheartedly. After testing my sperm and hormones for about $300, he determined that my body’s testosterone was low and put me on one pill a day. Within a few months my sperm went from 'meh' to awesome and we got pregnant naturally.

Now, I would love to say that this was the happy ending I was looking for. But sadly, it ended up in miscarriage. But here’s another thing your gynecologist never told you:

Up to one third of all pregnancies end up in miscarriage.

But let’s not end on a sad note – my partner is now 6 months pregnant with a very healthy boy. (This happened as soon as we fired that first female-centric fertility doctor and went with a far better fertility doctor. But that’s advice that this Plastic Cup will have to share another time.)

Hey - BTW, speaking of my forthcoming time bomb of a birthday, here's what I'd like from you. In lieu of gifts, I would ADORE any donation you can make to the Pediatric Cancer Research Foundation. I am running a 1/2 marathon in May to raise critical funds for this cause. Any amount is appreciated! To those of you who have already donated, THANK YOU!!! (That includes the friend who penned this post and scared me half to death).

https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=492975&supId=347488959

Get off your high-horses already!

http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/02/06/who-says-american-parents-are-inferior/#more-32151

Look, I am well-aware that I am one feisty opinionated gal. I am sure that if I ever do become a parent, I will have very strong opinions about how I want to parent. That being said, I think one of the things that will drive me absolutely bonkers is being told by another mother that what I'm doing is 100% wrong - and what she's doing is 100% right.

Are there really absolutes when it comes to parenting? Aren't all children different? Parents too? There can't possibly be one perfect way to parent. I've said it before and I'll say it again - I think a pragmatic approach... what works for YOU, is probably best.

Why am I ranting about this? Well, if you aren't already aware, yet another mother, Pamela Druckerman, has written about a book about how to parent - in this case, a book extolling the perfect parenting practices of the French, (in contrast to the pathetic parenting practices of Americans).

I am not even a mother and I still feel as if nary a day passes where I don't hear about some mother telling another mother how differently she should be doing things, or insulting another mother for doing something different from the norm - and so-on-and-so-forth... ad nauseum. It's insane.

Why are so many mothers so unbelievably judgy? I was just on the phone with my girlfriend Jen, who was at a party not too long ago when she was expecting her second baby girl. A woman at that soiree waltzed up to Jen and asked her what her birth plans were. Jen informed her that she was having a hospital birth. The woman's response? To literally turn her back on Jen and walk away.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?! What kind of a person does that? And since when as a hospital birth become something to criticize?!?

Anyway, this holier-than-thou business is obnoxious to the nth degree.

What I do know, is that if we 'kid' I sure as hell don't want anyone telling me how I should be doing things - or how badly I'm screwing my children up in some way, shape or form. And because of that, I am going to do my best to refrain from judging any other mothers in a harsh manner, unless they are literally doing something that is potentially very harmful to their child, (e.g. abuse).

Meltdown

Last night, I had a complete meltdown - and no... it was not PMS.

It was just a full-blown meltdown, replete with plenty of sobbing, tears and self-pity. It was obnoxious, and my poor husband John had to just sit there, hold my hand, pet my head and try to calm me down.

It was strange. I don't normally behave like this unless I'm PMSing. This was kind-of newish, and like I said really, really strange. I was truly ensconced in a deep, dark, dreadful funk.

I felt like all of these thoughts that have been running through my head for months finally all converged together and ran me over... twice. Perhaps not surprisingly, this blog is in large part responsible. This blog forces me to reflect and to think... a lot. Perhaps more than I should be.

The meltdown revolved predominantly around regrets - lots of them - and questioning things like the universe, and God, and feeling fairly dismal about our circumstances, (even though they're significantly better than they were just a few short years ago). It was a bleak moment for me. As much as I felt sorry for myself, and for John, I felt guilty for feeling sorry at all, because in so many ways, we are very blessed. We have each other, the world's most adorable puppies, our families, our friends, a roof over our heads, good food, Words with Friends, and Netflix. There's a lot to be thankful for. And I know this. I am very, very aware of it - but I was having a moment. I was bitter and jealous and regretful and resentful... and wondering why the world just won't cut us a break.

But the world doesn't simply cut people breaks. The world just is. In the midst of our discussion, John was about to tell me that we make our own happiness... and I cut him off, saying that I don't really believe that anymore.

But I do.

And so if the world can't or won't cut us a break, I'm gonna set my sights on finding us some more of this happy business and accept that the search may not be as easy as I might like.


Pictured: Fountain's Fountain, from our wedding.

Oy Vey

So my boss was in my office the yesterday, and we were talking about my adorable pups, and I said something along the lines of being tired because they had been restless all night. My colleague and office mate decides to chime in with:

"Just wait until you have kids." Under NORMAL circumstances, this would've been shrugged off - but not with my boss. My boss's response was, "She's not having kids!"

Of course, I would've liked to have just let that go and change the entire course of the conversation, but my colleague doesn't always know when to keep her mouth shut, and said, "She might be."

This of course opened a HUGE can of worms. My boss seems to be of the impression that I told her at some point that I'm definitely not having children. Well, that never happened. What I did say, (when she inappropriately asked me about it at one point or another), was explain that we, (John and I), were on the fence about it - but that if we opted to have children, it wouldn't be for a while.

I've discovered that's always the best way to go when employers ask you questions they shouldn't be. Be relatively vague, and allay any fears they might have about you starting a new gig and leaving shortly thereafter for maternity leave.

Speaking of maternity leave, I don't even think my company offers it.

Anyway, a few minutes ago, she waltzed into my office, sat down in front of my desk, asked me about projects I'm working on, and then launched into a conversation about why I shouldn't have children.

Awesome. Guess how many times per week this subject will undoubtedly come up now?

Just take a guess.

In sickness and in health...

About 2 or 3 weeks ago, John got sick. Some kind of bizarro cold thing that took hold and didn't let go... for like a week. It sucked on so many levels. For starters, John hates being sick. Now I know nobody necessarily likes it, but John really truly can't effing stand it - and he's not very good at the whole sick thing either. He's generally too mopey and/or exhausted to really enjoy the opportunity to just sit back and do virtually nothing. He also apologizes profusely because I have to pick up his slack in the cooking/chores/pups departments. Despite me telling him not to apologize, and that it's my pleasure, and that I know he'd do the same thing for me, the apologies keep coming.

Anyway, cut to about a week ago, and I am hit hard... crazy hard... with a really bad bout of the stomach flu. It was as if someone told every atom of food and fecal matter in my body to run... not walk to the nearest exits... those being my ass and my mouth. It was by far the most violent illness I've had in recent memory. For the first night, I didn't sleep. This was not by choice. I stayed up the entire night watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy in-between what seemed like millions of trips to the bathroom. For John, this was payback time. He got to take care of me - and when my illness proved to be shorter-lived than his, he insisted on continuing to take care of me, despite the fact that I was perfectly capable. (Now perhaps you're the nauseous one).

Anyway, We often find ourselves feeling incredibly grateful that we're not sick simultaneously for obvious reasons.

What the hell does this have to do with having children you ask?

Well, I've noticed that families with young children seem to get sick as a family - as in all at the same time, and this prospect is truly terrifying.

What do you do as a family when not a single one of you is capable of doing anything at all? Starve? Drown in your own dirt? Cry?

Ick.

P.S. Aren't you glad I didn't find an image better suited to this post?

I ♥ Christmas.

My old camp friend, and talented scribe Jenny Feldon, wrote this blog post a few days ago - http://moonfrye.com/profiles/blogs/moonfrye-family-happy-hanukah-and-happy-merry-christmas-too-by-je

It's a beautiful post - and I love how honest Jenny always is in her writing, which is why I too have to be entirely honest here as well. As I read it, I felt a series of emotions that I can't even really put to digital paper entirely. However, guilt is probably emotion #1.

Why?

Because unlike myself, Jenny - along with virtually every other Jew I know, has maintained her adherence, (from what I can tell), to Judaism... happily.

Me? Not so much.

I shouldn't feel guilty... after all, what's wrong with choosing your religion or spirituality for yourself? Absolutely nothing, right? But, I think guilt is part of my DNA. We Jews are born feeling guilty. We're supposed to uphold traditions - after all, we're a dying breed. If we're all as cavalier about it as I am, we'd be gone in no time. It's essentially our obligation to pass the torch along! Nevertheless, I just don't feel compelled to.

Thing is, I never really 'took' to it. I don't think it helps that I've NEVER enjoyed being told what to do... by anyone. For that reason alone, I pretty much ditched it.

Surprisingly, I was Bat-Mitzvaed! I read my torah portion... Mishpatim I believe it was called - and to this day, I still don't really recall what a word of it meant. I was 13... and like most 13 year-olds, I was unbelievably awkward. I was more concerned about carrying a tune in front of the boy I had a crush on at the time and whether or not I would need braces, than becoming an "adult." That idea in-and-of-itself to me seemed ludicrous, and still does to this day. I don't believe I became an 'adult' until I was about 25 or so. I didn't feel like my Bat-Mitzvah was some rite of passage. I felt like it was an exercise in utter and total humiliation.

Perhaps even more surprisingly, I went to a Jewish sleepaway camp... for years! I became a Counselor-in-Training, and then an assistant art director. It didn't end well. Long story, but let's just say that I left a place I called home for nearly 10 summers feeling very, very disillusioned and sad.

And perhaps that too is why the Judaism thing never stuck. To boot, I never made it an absolute necessity to marry another Jew. I dated plenty, but wound up falling head-over-heels in love with John Brian Fountain... a Christian from, (of all places), Kalamazoo, Michigan.

I found someone patient, understanding, and funny. Someone who could actually help me deal with my profound fear of death, teach me to laugh at myself, address my inability to wholeheartedly 'believe' in God, support my undying need to celebrate Christmas... I felt like I'd won the lottery - and to this day, I still do!

So we celebrate Christmas. I think I'm more zealous about it than John. The day after Thanksgiving, I can't wait to unpack the decorations, the stockings... decorate the tree, purchase holiday bouquets and wreaths and spread candles throughout the house, scented with cinnamon and pine. I LOVE CHRISTMAS! Love, love, love, love, love.

Look - please don't misinterpret this post as anti-Jew. I am completely and totally pro-Jew. I still dig that I am a Jew, (albeit non-practicing). The prescribed religion part just didn't quite work out for me is all. I simply never took to it, much to my parents' dismay.

Is that so terrible?

And when my parents ask me how we'll raise any kids we might have, I explain to them as clearly as possible, that we're simply not going to indoctrinate them into any one religion. We will teach them about both of our backgrounds, and allow them to choose for themselves, but in our household, we celebrate Christmas, because that's what we, as adults, have both chosen to do. And as confident as I am about that decision, I know that I know many, many Jews who probably think I'm evil because of all of this.

Fortunately, I'm learning to care less about what others think and embrace what I think with utter abandon.

The Incredibles on Being "Special"

I drafted this post ages ago - and would've bet the farm that I had posted it. Clearly I was wrong. In any case, having re-read it just now, I realize that writing about being special made me launch into a relatively dismal self-assessment because I'm a neurotic nutjob, and because I'm fairly ordinary - but because I'm desperately trying to be more confident and stop caring so damn much about what everyone else thinks, I'm posting it.

John and I just re-watched The Incredibles - a movie we saw when we had literally just started dating. We loved it - adored it - couldn't wait to see it again - even dressed up as the parents on our first Halloween. And while we did watch it again when it appeared on DVD, I feel as if too much time has passed since we gave it another go, so I'm glad we recently did. It is by far, one of my favorite movies. Certainly, it doesn't hurt that it has sentimental value as well, but outside of that, the movie is just plain awesome because the messages are brilliant. Gotta love Brad Bird.

One of my favorite quotes is what Dash says to his mother when she says that "everyone is special." Dash quickly retorts, "Which is another way of saying no one is."

This is one of my biggest pet peeves about a lot of parents these days. Everyone thinks their kid is special - but if that were true, well, then Dash is quite right... no one is. What makes anything/anyone special is the fact that something about them is unique almost exclusively to them. Perhaps your kid is an exceptionally remarkable artist at a very young age, or your kid is really freakishly smart when it comes to math. If so, your kid is probably quite special.

I know this is a slightly controversial subject - and I have the feeling that my attitude about this probably makes me sound like a monumental bitch. I don't mean to offend. I get that all parents think their kids are "special" but let's get as objective as we can for just a second here - and really think about what Dash says. If everyone is special, then no one is. It's absolutely true. The reason this resonates with me is that I still get the impression that we, as a society, are still perpetuating this idea that everyone is special and I think that in turn, is perpetuating this creepy sense of entitlement and this idea that mediocrity should be rewarded.

Another favorite exchange in the movie is as follows:

Helen: I can't believe you don't want to go to your own son's graduation.
Bob: It's not a graduation. He is moving from the 4th grade to the 5th grade.
Helen: It's a ceremony!
Bob: It's psychotic! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity, but if someone is genuinely exceptional...

If every child is constantly told that they're special, exceptional and/or great then they're going to wind up thinking that they can do no wrong - and that whatever they hope to be will simply be - and unfortunately, that just isn't the case.

That isn't to say one can't become special - in fact, with hard work and a lot of determination, I think most people can, but this business of classifying everything and everyone as special is completely inane.

If we do decide to kid - The Incredibles will be required watching.

"You Just Make It All Work." REALLY???

In the latest trailer for Moneyball - an adorable little girl, at her father's request, sings Lenka's "The Show," (a song I completely adore), in the middle of a store while playing guitar. She's got no inhibitions, boatloads of confidence, and she's just utterly, freakishly adorable. I want her.

That being said, I'm wondering how much longer I can keep up this blog. Maybe I'm just feeling a little less than inspired at the moment - but I'm also starting to feel as if I'm getting fairly redundant. In fact, I'm fairly certain that I am, and I think that we all kinda know I'm leaning more towards kidding than not - as is John. The unfortunate part is that neither John nor I feel comfortable diving in just yet.

We are constantly being told that we're being completely lame for holding off. That you're "never fully ready" and that "you just make everything work" and the best one... my absolute fave is - "you're not getting any younger."

I'm not surprised that "you're never fully ready." I've accepted that. Fine. Done. Moving right along.

I'm not getting any younger. This too is 100% absolutely correct - but there's not much to be done about it. I'll be 35 in February. Not old per se - but at that precarious point where if you plan on having your own children, (which we're definitely now considering because adoption is probably going to be too cost-prohibitive for us for far too long), people start passing all kinds of judgments - and they're oh-so-helpful.

As for "just making everything work" - well... this is where I call BULLSHIT!

If everyone could just "make everything work," then people wouldn't be homeless. People wouldn't be starving. I always love when these words come from the mouths of people who've never lost nearly everything they've worked for... Never been out of work for lengthy periods of time.... Never really wondered if they'd be able to pay their electricity bills... Never spent a Christmas in a cold, uninsulated house surrounded by boxes that were not courtesy of Santa Claus.

Look, I really want to believe that you can just make everything work - but our own history tells us that's simply not true. You can't just snap your fingers and transform your life from one thing into another if you don't have the means to do so or if circumstances simply aren't permitting. Money doesn't grow on trees - and kids cost a lot of money - and money is just something we don't have much of. We're still digging ourselves out of the financial disaster that we were completely blindsided by. This is our reality. Fortunately, the good news is that we've made a TON of progress. Our lives have improved dramatically... in ways we couldn't have even imagined - and we're happier now than we were in the house - which is a very welcome surprise. So while everything eventually seems to work out - you can't just make everything work precisely when you want to and how you want to.

Anyway, I've now got this massive case of baby-on-the-brain - and there's not a hell of a lot I can do about it. In the meantime, I get to hear everyone and their mother tell me that I'm running out of time - that if I'm going to do this, I better do it now - and that money, of all things, shouldn't hold me back.

I'm just not drinking that Kool-Aid.

That being said, I don't want this blog to turn into a depressing missive about how we're pretty sure that we want kids - but simply can't afford them. Who the hell wants to read about that?

So, I'm debating about carrying this whole To Kid or Not to Kid blog on much longer. And then I realize I've started a debate about the debate which is another debate in and of itself... or something.

I need a vacation, or a new blog topic, or a shrink...

...or all of the above.