Archive | July 2011

Knock, knock, who’s there?

So I guess more people are reading my blog than I realized.  Looks like my random email writer realized she offended me in some way and was kind enough to email me and apologize.  I guess she caught my tone.  If the initial email is not personalized, then it’s not likely that I will pay much attention to the writer’s intent and I know that person hasn’t actually read my blog or the street cred for background.   After all, IVF did NOT work for me, I ended up adopting after coming to the decision that biology was not that important to me.  I’m not bitter about attempting ART, but when you come home from the carnival with empty pockets and no prize,  I’m not going to be a huge cheerleader of it.  I did watch the video and when I got to the who sponsored it part, I realize some big pharmaceutical company has a vested interest in what first appears to be a grassroots educational initiative.   I did notice that fertility awareness is now being targeted to women over 30.  Seems like the magic number has dropped from 35 to 30 now.  When did that happen?  Of course, I’ve read plenty of blogs about women under 35 struggle with infertility so I guess there’s a lot of truth in that.  Lord knows I made a lot of assumptions that all was okay despite our withdrawal birth control method we used for years.  I remember having the kid conversation with DH when we were not married yet but had been together for years and I made it known that I wanted kids and if he didn’t, then we should part ways.  I made the assumption that once we did officially get married and officially started trying to conceive that it would happen one way or the other.  And it didn’t.  Naive, I know.   I had no idea I’d spend tens of thousands of dollars for nothing.  C’est la vie.

There are no guarantees in life whether it’s about having children or the health of our children.  Now, I can’t even imagine being without my little guy.  So if the road to him was paved with disappointment and heartache, so be it.  I cannot undo the past.

Speaking of emails, I actually did get one quite a while ago, not sure if I mentioned it already, but it was from someone who never left comments but she wanted to me to know that I had really given her some comfort.  She wanted me to thank me.   I was so touched by that email.  Sometimes people just want to let you know that yeah, they get it, they get you and they appreciate you sharing your experience. To turn poison into medicine, to create value where once there was despair.  That’s why I blog. I am a real person with real feelings living a very real life.  So if you want to come into my house, you gotta take off your shoes.

Random email

I received an email this morning from “Mindy”  who  apparently was ” very inspired by your story and your willingness to talk about your difficulty with getting pregnant”.  Mmm, it wasn’t addressed specifically to Deathstar cause if she REALLY knew anything about Deathstar, she’d know that I HAVEN’T talked about any difficulty getting pregnant because I’m NOT TRYING to get pregnant.  HELL, that is OLD news.  But I still  thought this was pretty darn funny…. since I got my period today.  Wow, check out the great production values.  Oh, there it is in fine print.  Sponsored by Serono.  Naturally.  Pun intended.

http://www.facebook.com/BirdsBeesRealStory

fresh air for everyone

Living in Vancouver, we are blessed with having Mother Nature around every corner. Even the city kids have green space or a park a few blocks away.  Not every kid is so lucky.  If you can help a kid out enjoy some time in a safe, beautiful environment and you live in the Northeastern States and Canada, please consider becoming a host family for this organization.

Protected: Pictures!!!!

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This entry was posted on July 10, 2011, in Uncategorized. Enter your password to view comments.

House envy

I’ve developed house envy.  Oh, yes, rampant consumerism has got me in its clutches with its glossy magazines full of shiny coloured appliances and kitchen islands and heated bathroom tiles.   I’ve never really cared that much about where I lived until I had a kid because now living somewhere is about finding good schools, friends for him to grow up with, some place to put down roots.  I really like this neighbourhood, it’s sleepy, but it really feels safe and comfortable.  People look you in the eye here.  Have you ever driven in a really affluent area and just looked at the cool houses and wondered what it would be like if you lived there?  Looking over the water through a giant picture window.  Or sitting on the wraparound porch with a mint julep.  (I’ve never had a mint julep, but perhaps it tastes like a mojito.)

Okay, you have to do this.  It will take about 10 minutes, so do this when you have time.  It’s fun.

http://crackhouseormansion.com/part2.html

It gives you an idea of the kind of homes that are actually available right now that are typically selling for $1.75M and up.  And no, I’m not kidding.  I saw one sold for 2.3 Mil that was over a million dollar less last  year that the realtor was advertising as “livable but needs renovation”.  Wow, what a selling point, eh?  Livable.  Translation:  you could if you were really desperate but it’s really about the land value.  In highly desirable neighbourhood, old houses are being bought like candy for insane amounts of money by foreign investors generally.  The houses are dated and cramped, so they are torn down (cheaper than renovation), and new ones are going up and if the lot is big enough, then 2 houses are being built.  People’s noses are out of joint because it means that unless you have a shwack of cash and can move quickly and outbid multiple offers, you cannot afford to move into a home in this neighbourhood.  People including hubby and I.  And since you are paying well over a million for just a house that is over 60 years old, you have to have deep pockets to either renovate it or rebuild.  It’s all about location, folks so you pay for the hood where the hip middle class live.    That million dollar home that we used to dream about when we were kids is now $3MILLION and it doesn’t come with a tennis court and a pool.  It comes with neighbours on either side of you and a garage if you’re lucky.   I’m watching House Hunters and Million Dollar Listings and I can’t believe that some people are being picky about a $154,000 home with  3 bedrooms and a backyard.  I’m like – I’ll take it and we’ll just commute by airplane! In fact, I’ll take 3.

People are obsessed with real estate here, people are always asking if you rent or own and how much and how many sq. ft.   When I moved here years ago, I thought it was a bit weird and frankly how much I pay is no one’s business but now I’m used to it.  It’s always the topic of conversation at a meeting or at the dog park.  I used to hide the fact that I rented because inevitably I would be asked for how much. Once in our old building, I was introduced to someone in the elevator as the girl who “rents out so and so’s suite”!  How infuriating!  Like my name is not sufficient enough information.  Good grief.

Of course, we could always buy a ticket to a charity lottery in hopes of winning a place.  Of course the house in the neighbourhood I like (you know, the one where you can walk  to the grocery store, dry cleaners and Starbucks) isn’t anywhere near as nice and big as the one in the middle of nowhere where you have to drive ten minutes to mail a letter.  I don’t need a huge house, of course, it’s not like I have a bunch of kids to fill the rooms.   I do dream of a walk in closet the size of bedroom, though.  Sto0rage, glorious storage for my junk.  I grew up in the suburbs in a semi-detached bungalow and I really hated it.  I never had my own car, the long walk home from the bus stop in the freezing winter, hours lost commuting back and forth, the isolation I felt as a teenager….. it’s all tied together for me….uggh, it just makes me shiver.  Odd though, here I am a grownup and I’m still imagining what it would be like to live in one of the “nice” houses on a tree lined street.  With nice lighting fixtures.

I nauseate myself sometimes.  Seriously.  Somehow this parenting bag just sets off a whole bunch of bells and whistles in me.