vacation Archives - burnt toast life

Aug 05

ten whole days

Aug 05

Hey friends, we’re back!

I’ll keep the actual beach recap short by saying this: it was fun. Molly loved the sand and the water and all of it. I loved spending 24 hours/day with my daughter and bonding with her in a deeper way than I can during my too-short weekends. I loved how we fell into a routine, and how Eric was more helpful than ever because he wasn’t tired and burnt out from a stressful workday. We both decided that the only logical solution for us would be to win the lottery. Now we just have to play.

Just a hair over 13 months old and Molly started experimenting with a slight side step before plopping back down and scooting. She is still incredibly sturdy on her feet when standing and zooms all over the place when we help her walk, but as far as walking alone… nope, wasn’t having it. We got back from the beach on Friday, unpacked and did all the laundry, and then spent a leisurely Saturday/Sunday hanging out at Eric’s parent’s pool. I could tell that the walking was going to happen any day but as of Sunday night, no dice. Monday morning I dropped her off at my sister’s house, and a couple of hours later I got the text – she took three steps! By that afternoon we had a video to prove it and my heart simultaneously broke and exploded with pride. She was walking… but I missed it. By like 12 hours.

Besides her momentous day of milestones, my sister said yesterday was pretty regular – she went down for her nap, played, had a good time, etc. So that doesn’t really explain what happened later that night. Now, normally putting Molly to bed is a breeze. She starts rubbing her eyes anywhere between 7 and 8, I rock her and give her a bottle, and then lay her in her crib and turn on her Pandora lullabies. It can be light out, the neighbors can be mowing the lawn, or whatever, and she usually just tosses and turns for a while and falls asleep about 10 minutes after I leave the room.

Well, not last night. Every time I put her down in her crib she screamed bloody murder. Not cried like, wahhh, I’m grumpy and not ready for bed yet. More like screamed as though she were being kidnapped and would never see her family again. I kept coming back in to rock her and she would grip onto me so tightly it made me feel terrible. I tried laying with her in my bed… sitting by her bed and singing… stroking her cheek… no matter what, no matter how relaxed she was in my presence, the second I left the room she would start screaming again. This went on for three. solid. hours. Now, I realize I could have it so much worse. I know some kids are like this every night. But I’m used to the easy-peasy baby who basically puts herself to bed. I wonder if she had separation anxiety after our ten days straight of being together… which makes me feel both good and bad. At least she really does miss me (because considering how happy she is with Ashley, sometimes I wonder).

Nothing else too exciting going on. We are going camping in two weeks – probably our only trip of the year, which is kind of sad. How did the summer slip by so quickly? In no time it’ll be fall and then I’ll be having a baby! Like… what?!! I am soooo not prepared for that. We still haven’t figured out the room situation. We are pretty set on the name but I’m hesitant to share it in case it changes again. I still need to get all the hand-me-down clothes from multiple sources… and sort them… and put them away in the non-existent dresser drawers. It’s such a daunting task that I’d rather just keep putting it off.

Hope everyone is having a great August so far! I took like 160 photos at the beach, and I won’t make you suffer through all of them.

Here are the highlights:

beach babe

you can’t ride in my little red wagon…

family photo op

it’s absurd how many selfies we took

such a beauty

talking into random objects is a favorite pastime

Baby boy

playground fun

she looks so big in this pic

yes, the belly doubles as a table

every day on the walk back from the beach, this happened

see you next year, OCMD!

Aug 05

beach baby

Aug 05

Every year we go to Ocean City, Maryland on vacation.

It’s really the perfect place for us. No, it’s not classy – in fact, it’s cheesy and tourist-y and even garish at times. The boardwalk is loud and the shops are jam-packed with chintzy memorabilia that’s horribly overpriced. But we’ve been going since I was ten years old. What was once just my nuclear family vacation has grown over the years, and this year we had a record turnout – 36 people. My family, my extended family, and many member of Eric’s family. We spread out in five condos and took up a decent plot of land on the beach.

Every year Ocean City has been different. When I was ten, it was all about playing in the sand. When I was fifteen, it was all about dressing cute and walking up and down the boardwalk with my best friend, collecting phone numbers we knew we’d never call. When I was 21, I started going out to bars. Eric proposed to me in Ocean City (twice). Last year I was so, so sad. We drank in the condo a lot. There are a bunch of pictures of me on the beach, at night, trying to look peaceful. I know I keep saying this, but it’s just remarkable how different everything was this year. Everything I’d been imagining and wanting for so long finally happened.

Molly did great on the beach. There was one minor incident where sand got thrown in her face, but other than that the whole thing went off without a hitch. She slept in the car for most of the way there, and even though we hit traffic we only had to stop to feed her once. Oh, did I mention she’s been sleeping through the night since she was 4 weeks old? I know. I have no idea how I got so lucky. Every night I wait for it to stop abruptly, but so far she’s out from about 10 pm to 5 am. It’s so nice. Breastfeeding is also going better, and she’s slooowly starting to not rely on the nipple shield anymore. I bought a Maya wrap before vacation and every day I would nurse her in it on the walk to the beach. After a week, I started to get good at it. Hands-free nursing is so much easier and more convenient!

What else? Just two short weeks until I go back to work. So far I’ve only been separated from her for four hours at most. A full workday will definitely be an adjustment.

I swear I had more to say, but I’ve been waiting for two days to write this post. The hours pass by so quickly…and I’m trying to savor each and every one.

Here’s some vacation photos:

chillin’ in her beach chair

hanging out with the big kids

oh, my heart…

sleeping with Aunt Sarah

first dip of toes in the sea!

I searched far and wide for a hat that small

Aug 03

back from the beach

Aug 03

I’m back from the beach! Didja miss me?

I did bring my laptop along, and our condo did have unreliable yet available internet, but I needed a break from it all. Know what I mean? I haven’t gone this long without posting in a loooong time, I’m talking long since back before I blogged about infertility and I only posted like every other month. I’ve been following along with all of you and have been pleased to note some exciting BFP’s and some ongoing positivity. This makes me feel so happy, and so hopeful for the future.

Vacation was good, it truly was. I went with Eric, his mom and my own immediate and extended family including aunts, uncles and cousins. Our unit was just me and Eric and his mom, which we kept referring to as our “adult vacation.” It was nice, but…quiet. I could take a nap whenever I wanted. His mom and I polished off an entire giant bottle of vanilla vodka in the space of a week and didn’t worry about being loud or tipsy. We went for early morning bike rides and late night dips in the hot tub. Yeah, it was a really good time, but I can’t help but hope like hell that next year is so, so different.

view from our condo

It was on this trip that I realized we keep doing something, perhaps intentionally, perhaps inadvertently. I probably noticed it a while ago and have been pretending to do it accidentally for some time now, if it’s possible to pretend to yourself (I don’t think it is). Here’s what we do: we talk about having kids like it’s a definite future occurrence. Eric does it all the time, and I noticed his mom does it, too. It makes me feel safe and secure in my future in ways I can’t even express. He’ll always say things like, “Yeah, but when we have kids we can’t do this…” or, “Cover your mouth when you cough. Are our kids going to have terrible manners like you do?” It’s always an offhand, throwaway comment that most people wouldn’t notice. And yes, I understand that just saying “when we have kids…” isn’t the same as having them. But it’s just that overwhelming confidence, that assured way of describing what’s so obviously part of our future that makes me feel happy inside. It gives me comfort and hope. Yeah, we will have kids. We will one day.

Besides that, there were a few notable fertility-related moments on vacation. Here’s a roundup:

– Joking around one night (and you have to understand, we say all these things with nothing but love), Eric threatened me over something or another with, “Fine, then we can never have sex again. Don’t know how you plan on having that baby you wanted.” And with that, I grinned devilishly and replied, “No problem. I’ll just go to the doctor…” HA. HA. HA.

– Drinking brought out some moments of fun and forgetfulness, but it also unleashed some demons. On one occasion I missed the twins and wanted them back so badly I almost couldn’t breathe. I started to panic that the feeling wouldn’t go away and I would just be miserable for the rest of my life, but of course it faded. I keep trying to recall it ~~because I’m a masochist~~ because it almost felt good to feel the longing that deeply. Sometimes I feel like there’s something wrong with me that I didn’t mourn enough. It’s so weird.

– We went to one of those beach shops that prints up custom t-shirts. I knew vaguely that I wanted to make a shirt but had gone to four or five shops, dashing in and darting out in the pouring rain, before finding a design that I wanted. Eric and his mom were getting understandably frustrated at my indecisiveness. Then Eric noticed a design that said “Where’s Molly?” and joked that we should get that. Two things, in case you were curious – 1) we’ve planned on naming our first daughter Molly since 2003, and 2) I’m sure the shirt was referencing an illicit drug. Whatever. I wasn’t in a bad place at that moment so I laughed, but his mom got so upset by the scene that she had to leave the shop in tears. Needless to say, I picked a different design (I got an anchor that says, “Refuses to sink,” which I thought was poetic, but the more I think about it, the more I realize anchors were designed to sink. So it doesn’t really make sense but it is pretty).

– I’ve been reading the book State of Wonder, which is actually really good, but the plot centers around a scientist who goes looking for another scientist into the Brazilian jungle to find out her progress on developing a drug promising everlasting fertility. The women of some aborigine tribe never go through menopause and go on reproducing until death because they chew on the bark of some rare tree in the jungle. Yeah, it’s fiction, but I couldn’t help but think how awesome that would be.

So, back to the real world today. We missed our dogs pretty terribly, which only proves that I’ve crossed over into what can be classified as “official dog person.” It’s a strange way to think of myself. I know I’m supposed to be starting my healthy new life this weekend but I dunno… there’s a lot of leftover crap food that needs to be eaten. I’m thinking Monday sounds good for a brand new me. I do plan on going for a run tomorrow morning and I’m telling all of you this so that you hold me accountable if I fail. So please, feel free to ask me how that run went. It’s time to get this ass in gear.

Jan 17

Notes from Colorado

Jan 17

We went to Denver, and it was wonderfully relaxing. Yes, I managed to take it easy and enjoy myself. I’ve compiled a list of observations from the trip.

1) They put green chili on everything. Also, there’s always a bottle of malt vinegar to put on your French fries.

2) They have the best damn beer I’ve ever tasted (and I’m not even sure I like beer).

3) I wore a knit winter cap the whole time. It just felt right.

4) I was definitely the fattest person there. Even in 9 degree weather, people were working out everywhere you looked. “Health conscious” may be an understatement.

5) All the cars had 4 wheel drive. Obviously.

6) Buffalo meat was readily available. It tastes just like beef, but is supposedly less fatty. Plus, it feels cool to order a buffalo burger.

7) The people really are nicer out West.

8) I also wore a ski jacket the whole time and felt like I fit in. Makeup was overkill. I’m pretty sure NY Fashion Week isn’t the event of the year out there.

9) Ok, so Coloradans don’t care about fashion. Things they do care about: music, the environment, and locally brewed beer.

10) The bread doesn’t get stale for a really long time. No humidity!

11) Colorado: Flat. Flat. Flat. Flat. Foothill. MOUNTAIN. HUGE EFFING MOUNTAIN.

12) On a clear day, you can literally see Kansas.

13) It’s the mile high city. You could say we were really high the whole time we were there.

14) Listening to the radio, we heard a song called “There’s No Tortillas” by Lalo Guerrero. Watch the video, it will make your day.

Jan 05

what mood swings?

Jan 05

Last night I cried inconsolably for fifteen minutes. The culprit? A slightly emotional (but not devastating) scene on the show Parenthood.

For some reason when I heard that these injections could cause mood swings, I pictured a pendulum. I figured that I would either be on one end of the spectrum – happy – or the other end – sad. What I was not prepared for was a myriad of confusing, specific emotions that may be drug side effects or may just be my inner psyche manifesting the intensity of the situation. I will never know.

Since I started the injections almost a week ago, I have felt extreme joy, irritation, confusion, instability, excitement, fear, impatience, apprehension, gratitude and above all, anxiety. I feel anxious that the moment of truth is quickly approaching. Months ago, before we knew that any of this would be happening, we planned a short trip to Denver to sight see, snowboard and visit with Eric’s cousin. We are leaving this Thursday. So on top of worrying about what’s to come and getting my next, incredibly expensive prescription in time, I have to plan on and pack for a vacation. I’m excited, but stressed. Very, very stressed.

The injections are going well. Eric’s mom did the first two and Eric has done all subsequent shots. The first night he had to do one I had already angered him by parking in his spot (accidentally), so he may have enjoyed doing it a little too much.

I have a whole other post planned addressing this, but I just want to take a moment to thank you all for the support and well wishes. I didn’t expect so many likes, comments, private messages, texts, in-person conversations and genuine concern. It means so much to have all of you surrounding us and encouraging us through this frightening yet exciting time. I know now that I made the right choice sharing this journey rather than keeping it all inside. I probably would have had a breakdown without a proper place to vent it all out.

Like I said, we’re headed to Denver next week. Hopefully I can relax and enjoy myself and just take my mind off it all for a little while. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Aug 08

Massacre at Harding Farm

Aug 08

Based on the title, and because I’m not the most adept at suspenseful openers, I’m just going to say it: the chickens were murdered. Well, not all of them. Just three of them. That leaves one confused, lonely hen that we found wandering the driveway in a state of shock (not sure if chickens can register shock, but if they can, that’s what she was).

We went on vacation last week and of course it was relaxing. However, I realized something about myself. While I did not face work stress or home stress or regular daily stress, I managed to create vacation stress. Rather than just live and let live, I found myself worrying about who was doing what and at what time, when I should be ready by, how long I should stay at the beach, whether I should pack a turkey sandwich or peanut butter and fluff, etc. You know – big decisions. It’s not that my problems were monumental, it’s just that my poor brain doesn’t know how to function without at least a modicum of anxiety. In the absence of actual drama, I somehow manufacture faux drama.

One thing that was actually worth worrying about came in the form of text around mid-week. I had a friend checking in on the animals at home (cat, turtle, fish, chickens), and she found an ominous pile of feathers in the front yard, which she reported to me with a sad face emoticon. She said that she did not see any chickens wandering about.

We got home and immediately set off looking for our flock. It didn’t take long to discover the aforementioned feathers in the front yard… and then the second pile near the neighbor’s yard… and also the third pile near a pine tree. A quick stop at the neighbor’s confirmed that nary a rooster crow had been heard since Tuesday (it was then Friday). Dismayed, we walked up and down the driveway until we found our lone surviving hen, who turned her head at us inquisitively as if to ask, “Where were you? Where were you while my family was being murdered?” Eric quickly gathered her up into the coop and locked it up tightly. The giant food and water feeders we purchased recently take up half the floor space of the coop, serving as a cruel reminder to all that we had and all that we lost.

all that remains

Obviously, free ranging has its limitations. Eric tried to make me feel better by justifying that this would have happened even if we had been home since we weren’t corralling them at night, but I would imagine that we would have noticed they were being plucked off one by one and locked them up sooner. Really, we should have kept them in the coop full time once the first hen went missing weeks ago. But we loved seeing them strutting around the yard, hiding in the front bushes, perching on the wood pile out back, and creating a little haven in the dry creek bed beside the driveway. The neighbors also enjoyed them immensely, saying it warmed their hearts when they found chickens wandering around their backyard.

Silver linings: we still have one hen. The three roosters that we gave away to the farm are still living (hopefully). And the ones that we lost had very good, albeit short, chicken lives. They roamed freely, eating bugs and ruling the yard. They were not restricted to the tiny cages of giant eggs factories. If it were me, I would prefer a short and free life to a long and imprisoned one. However, these could all just be justifications of a woefully inept caregiver.

The next steps involve finding a chicken friend for Diana Ross (Get it? She will survive?) [EDIT: Diana Ross DID NOT, I repeat DID NOT sing “I Will Survive.” Shame on the writer for not doing her research. The hen’s name shall be Gloria.] and then starting the whole process over again in the spring, if my uncle allows it. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him this little tale. To my lost chickens, I will just say this: I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me.