Sometimes my dreams go splat

My friend's pregnancy announcement has really thrown me for a loop (this being the friend with a 1-year-old and a new bump). Partially it's because we were pregnant at the same time. Partially it's because she also has medical issues, and yet everything seems to be pointing in the direction of a take-home baby in 5 months. But mostly just because she's living my dream.

Sure, she got there by a few wild nights at home with her husband. But that's not going to work for me. So if this is what I really want, I need to do something about it. Find a new clinic. Sign up for a domestic adoption info session (obviously we need to talk a lot more about adoption but getting educated is just the beginning and pursuing a dual track (cycling and researching adoption) is obviously the most productive thing to do). Hence the sudden interest in picking a local IF clinic (and any recommendations still much appreciated). The newly-renewed enthusiasm for exercise if not dieting (hence my new toy). And if I were a single (and fabulously wealthy) gal I'd be on the phone making appointments and scheduling my next cycle.

And then sometimes my fantasies go splat. Because JD isn't quite in the same place, to put it mildly. Yes, of course he wants more children. He knows I want a large family and he is ok with that (and I did think about the word choice here. He is "ok" with 4-5 children. Not gung-ho, not super-enthusiastic but willing to trust in my capabilities and to share my vision). But he's living the bachelor life. He has not had to think about finding a babysitter in almost 3 months. When his friend suggests a drink in the elevator on the way out of work, he can go without a second thought. And he does not have to worry about being woken up at 2 am because someone wants to eat. Or 7 am to play. When he felt sick one day, he stayed in bed and ordered delivery for 24 hours. He was proud that he finally found the time to disassemble the fusspot's crib and move it to her bedroom (we're still going to cosleep but it would be lovely if she'd take her morning nap in her own room so I could work at my desk which is in our bedroom). He's proud of a half hour construction job, while I spend at least a half hour ever day vacuuming and mopping to clean up after our food-flinging fusspot. And of course, we have not had much time together. So there's just no way he's going to agree to a cycle the moment I return to the U.S. Maybe after a month or two, but maybe he's right to ask for 3 months together without needles and 7 am appointments and all the related stress.

So while I know what I want, and I know that the only way to get it is to head back to the clinic, seems like real life is going to get in the way for a while. Not real life like work or finances (although those are always a concern, just not the type of concern a few months delay will alter). Real life like paying attention to the needs of my husband. And I need to come to terms with that before I head home for new years. I don't want to spend new years quibbling about start dates for cycles when it really isn't all that relevant yet. I want him to know what I'm thinking, and I want him to assure me that he'll figure out the budget for it, and then I want to spend my trip home showing off my beautiful baby and enjoying the miracle we already have. Not that I've ever had that type of grace in my life, but there's nothing wrong with wishful thinking.

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In a completely unrelated thought, if the fusspot fails her kindergarten entrance interview, we'll know why. You know the one where they want to check first and foremost that your child isn't a biter, and then they ask them a few simple questions like what sound does a cow make.

Here's to a little local linguistic diversity. Of the animal sort. Thanks to a new farm animals book and a local version of Peek-a-boo.

Pigs around here don't oink or snort, they stick with the far more sophisticated: knor! (sorry about my technical fail - I can't get it to rotate).

Sheep and lambs are both into accent marks, and of the dismissive type at that:


Cows seem to be practicing for halloween:
Chickens say tok tok. And alligators ... well, read for yourself: