Monthly Archives: October 2009

Oct30

Suave, Jenna. Very suave.

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Suave, Jenna. Very suave.

Maybe if Mom had let me be in ballet growing up.  Maybe if I was slightly more coordinated.  Maybe if I paid a little more attention.  Maybe if I didn’t wear wooden-soled 4-inch heels.

This morning’s been a little rainy.  Joey and I were running late because we slept in a bit; he’s been feeling sniffly and pathetic for two days.  (Me making him upchuck his vitamins did not help.)  Jeeves went off at 6:30 instead of 6:00, and I picked out a very fallish outfit, complete with brown stockings and my brown suede heels.

I hadn’t worn them in about a year.

I remembered why as we were walking down the steps, the brown suede heels are wooden-soled and make a ton of noise.  It’s embarrassing.

The rain was really coming down as we drove in, and Joey pulled me up right by the front door, a very sweet effort to preserve my hair which I appreciated quite a bit.  I gave him a butterfly kiss (Joey prefers to avoid lipstick shimmers, please and thank you) and darted inside.

The fact I should walk slowly because it was rainy and my wooden-soled shoes were wet on the highly polished marble floor did not cross my mind.

UNTIL.

UNTIL I began to slide, kind of comically like in a cartoon.  First my right leg went out from under me, but I quickly adjusted with my left.  But that adjustment caused my left leg to shoot out in front of me, and I felt like I was in cheerleading all over again.  I went down fast, kind of in an awkward splits motion, but somehow slamming my knees into that highly polished marble as I went.

And to ice the cake, my elbows buckled from under me and I face-planted, smearing lipstick shimmers into the already-shiny marble.

Oh, did I mention I’m wearing a skirt?  I AM.  We are not even going there, because you will all have to poke your eyes out if we do.

Quick as a wink, I darted up off the floor and noticed that yes, people had seen me do that.  People that I know. They were all ARE YOU OK?! and talked to me the entire way up the elevator, mostly because I could tell they felt sorry for me.

But nothing was hurt except my pride.  That was definitely bruised.

And thus I say to you: Happy Friday.  May you keep yourself upright today and behave with more decorum than I seem to be able to pull off.

Oct30

The Pill

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The Pill

So, I took it last night.  I didn’t hyperventilate, I didn’t cry, nor did I throw it against the mirror.  I just popped it out of the blister pack, stuck it in my mouth, took a deep breath and swallowed.

Then I waited for about five minutes.

Everything seemed normal, I hadn’t personally imploded or anything, so I found Joey and told him that I thought maybe I’d be OK.

He was asleep.

So I fell asleep and dreamed really weird dreams, which I blame on the medicine.  Unfortunately I can’t remember any of them any more.

But this morning, I feel pretty good.  I don’t think I’m prone to tear anyone’s head off, nor did I gain 25 lbs while I slept, and I haven’t had any fits of crying.  Maybe birth control won’t kill me after all.  (Although statistically, 7 women out of 100,000 perish from it every year.)

I did wake up with the song Arise and Be Comforted in my head, though.  I really like it right now; it somehow encourages me and reminds me that YES…Jesus loves me; even when I look at my Bible and can’t for the life of me remember where it tells me so.

I looked for it on YouTube and I could only find it being performed by some weirdos I’ve never heard of and who, frankly, aren’t any good. So the lyrics are all y’all are going to get.  Gosh, it’s just not the same without music, though.  (If I could sing like the Chrisy Nockels, I’d never even bother with talking.  I’d just sing everything instead.)

Arise & Be Comforted (by Watermark)

Arise and be comforted
For the Lord, He is good to the weary;
And even the young heart can tire and fall
But He knows them all.
For the Lord, He will renew their strength
And they will soar on wings as eagles,
And they will run and never grow weary
They will walk and not grow faint.
For the Lord, He is good,
Lift your eyes to the heavens
For the creator is living in you;
Come surrender as you are.

And know that you’ll never stray too far
Let His power within you heal your heart.
Lift your eyes to spacious skies
Let Him chart your way to flight
Spread your wings and fly…
For the Lord, He is good.

Oct29

The First One

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The First One

Two times during the night, my little Hoops and YoYo door-hanger that I got from Grandma last year decided to go off.  So there we were, at 4:00 a.m., sleeping like normal people when suddenly COME IN OUR ROOM, COME IN OUR ROOM, IT MAY NOT BE CLEAN BUT YOU’RE WELCOME TO COME INNNNNNN OUR ROOOOOOOOOM.  COME ON IN!!! came yelling from the closet door.

We were both kind of freaked out, understandably, but once we figured out that somehow the door-hanger had gotten turned back on and went off by itself, we fell asleep again.  Until about 5:30, when it happened again.

Oh my gosh.

Either we have ghosts in our house, or Gramps can remotely control that thing and he’s sitting in Indiana with an evil grin on his face and giggling while he sets it off.

(I vote for the theory about Gramps and the remote control.  That just sounds cooler.)

So, all this to say that this morning was a little weird for us.  And after all that, Joey felt like garbage when he woke up, so I told him to take his vitamins.  He did so, but only after drinking copious amounts coffee and taking Day-Quil.  I don’t suppose I need to tell you all that he upchucked them.

Off to a great start!

We were running I had my first labs for the IVF process.  We marched into Quest Diagnostics at 8:00 and I offered them my left arm.

It is always my left arm, because the right arm is uncooperative.  I do not understand why, this is just the way it is.  And if they even try for the right arm, Bad Things Happen.

So there.

I sat down in the chair and the lady whipped out four tubes.

“Uhhhh,” I wheezed.  “Uhhhhhh….”

“She’s going to need to lay down,” Joey said.  “Any more than one tube and she passes out.”

Also, I had failed to eat or drink much of anything before goign for these labs.  Not a smart move, Mrs. Woestman.  Not a smart move.

“Well, you’re just going to have to get used to this now that you’re pregnant,” the lab tech said.

Ehh?!

I almost corrected her, but I didn’t want to embarass her and really…it’s not a big deal.  But I couldn’t figure out why she thought I was pregnant.  Then I remembered she probably assumed it based on the requisition.

The tech stabbed me with the butterfly needle (again, must have butterfly or we get back to the Bad Things Happening bit I mentioned earlier) and the room began to wooze around me.

It takes a wicked long time to get four tubes out of me.  But about halfway through, I decided I was NOT going to pass out, thank you very much, and so I distracted myself with a picture of fish on the wall.

Somehow, I was successful.  Score one for the good guys.

(Although I did almost go down on the steps outside the building, but whatever.  Almost doesn’t count.)

We drove straight to CVS and picked up my very first birth control pills ever.  In my entire life.  I have always staunchly refused to take it because I felt like those chemicals could only do harm to the natural processes in my body.  Natural, Internet.  Let’s be NATURAL.  Although…look at what I’m about to do to myself.

So I held them in my hand and looked at them with serious disdain while I read the directions.  (Did you know that more people die from childbirth every year than die from taking birth control pills?  Because I know that now that I read the stats on the back; apparently birth control pills kill some people.)

I told Joey that I felt this was the last morning in a long, long time that I’ll really be able to feel like me.  I’m currently not jammed with progestin and estrogen and whatever else they’re going to be shooting me up with.  I’m just…me.

Uggggggggh.

See?  Groaning.  But at least it’s not in capital letters this time, right?

Next Wednesday I have my “learn to shoot yourself in the stomach with a needle” appointment.  Boy howdy, am I looking forward to that!

T-minus 2 hours and 15 minutes until I take my first pill.

I may cry.  I seriously may cry.

Oct28

Wordless Wednesday…but not that kind of Wordless Wednesday

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Wordless Wednesday…but not that kind of Wordless Wednesday

You know that verse in Romans about the Holy Spirit taking your groans and translating them into actual prayers on your behalf?

Yeah.

Yeah.

That’s about all I’ve got right now.   LITERALLY.  I try to pray and all I can think of is UGGGGGGGGH.  Never been there before, and I hope I’m never here again.  But UGGGGGGGGH.

Here’s why.

Yesterday, I actually thought I was pregnant.  The free, good old-fashioned kind of pregnant that would be AWESOME.  And because there’s Swine flying around me like crazy, I put a call in to my OB to say Um, hi…maybe pregnant and should I be worried about Swine?

Of course they freaked out (the words “I need to find out where that baby is” came out of my OB’s mouth) and they were all WE NEED TO SEE YOU TODAY.

So I texted Joey, who was in class, and told him that OH!  YAY!  Another pregnancy fire drill!  We have to go to our favorite place on the planet this afternoon for bloodwork!  He picked me up at 4:15 and we zipped up the freeway.  I rode the creepy gold elevators and sat in empty the waiting room because, once again, I was there after hours.  My nurse came out and handed me a Tamiflu prescription, and I stuffed it in my purse.

I got the labs drawn, and I didn’t even wince.  Progress!

And then, on the way out of the doctor’s office, I stopped to go to the bathroom.

Y’ALL.

If I didn’t start cycling the very same hour as my stupid fire alarm pregnancy test, then my name isn’t Jenna Marie Woestman.  FIVE DAYS LATE.

Sorry.   I’m feeling cynical this morning.

So I put a call into my fertility specialist first thing today.  I’m going to get more blood sucked tomorrow, because it’s so fun!, and then start taking birth control pills for the first time in my life.  Let me just tell you how un-excited I am about that. But whatever.  (Does anyone besides me think it’s super weird to put me on birth control 2 weeks before they try to get me petri-dish pregnant?  Because that seems crazy to me.)  I’m waiting for a fax from my doc’s office.  The Fax, as I am referring to it in my brain, will contain The Schedule.

I don’t suppose I need to tell any of you that I have been like a weepy, sobby wreck since, oh, I woke up this morning.  But as the nurse was running down The Schedule she was saying words like “extraction” and “implantation” and “ultrasounds”, and we all know how much I love ultrasounds, I started getting all shaky and teary and wanted to just hang up on her.

But hanging up does not get me petri-dish pregnant, so I stayed on the line.  And I swallowed hard and I took deep breaths.  And I tried to not freak out.

I wish I could be all excited and gung-ho about this.  But it’s terrifying me.

Want to know a secret?  (I know, it’s not a secret once I tell the Interwebs.)

I feel super immature because what I really don’t want to do is all the shots and injections.  I don’t know if I can handle physical pain on top of all the emotional stuff.  Am I a first-class wimp, or what?!

See?  There we are getting back to that whole groaning thing.

UGGGGGGGGH.

Oct26

The Opposite of Verbose

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The Opposite of Verbose

Yeah, yeah, yeah, so I’m like the opposite of verbose around here lately.  I’m sorry.  I have nothing to say in my defense except that Brother and Laura were here for the weekend, and we were too busy partying for me to break away and litter the interwebs with my stories.  Once I sort through the pictures and summon the gumption, I will post some about some of it.  Unless I get attacked by a wave of apathy, in which case I may just look at the pictures on my lappy and think gosh that was fun and then go take a nap.

I was standing in Central Market this evening, staring at the 20 different kinds of salt they carry and trying to find Fleur de Sal.  It would have been a whole lot easier of a process if the Fleur de Sal had been spelled correctly on the container (which it wasn’t) or if the proper code had been on the canister (again, it was not).  After a couple of wrong guesses, I finally found it.

$25.00 a pound, y’all.

$25.00 a pound.

I mean, I I know I’m from Dallas and whatever, but that’s a crazy expensive price for something that is naturally produced.  But maybe I’m just cheap, er…I mean Midwestern.

I scooped out my 2 1/2 tablespoons worth and weighed it, the total came to $3.25 for a tiny little bag o’ salt.  I hope it’s delicious.  It smells kind of…smokey.  But the recipe called specifically for Fleur de Sal, and if I couldn’t find it then Martha told me I could substitute Maldon.  BUT ONLY IF I HAD TO.

I don’t even know what makes Fleur de Sal so special, but Martha did say it was prized for its distinctive flavor and aroma.  (Perhaps that’s the bit about it smelling kind of smokey?)

So I stood there looking at my expensive, woodsy salt and wondering if Fleur de Sal really would make or break my recipe.  I squished it around and noticed it had a dampish texture that slightly held its shape when molded just so.  Pretty cool, I guess.

I took my armful of goods up to the register and laid them on the counter and as the gentleman was ringing up my groceries, he noticed my Fleur de Sal.  He asked me what in the world it was, and I laughed.  I told him I had absolutely no idea, but Martha told me it had to be Fleur de Sal and I’d find out when I made the recipe tomorrow.

And so I think that’s why I feel the opposite of verbose lately.  I’m all stressed out because my life feels like Fleur de Sal, but I’m not quite sure where it fits in the Recipe yet.

But maybe I’ll find out tomorrow?  (Hehehe.)

If only my life were tasty like chocolate salted caramel cupcakes.

Oct23

They’re on the road

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They’re on the road

I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to know that someone is making that very, very, very long drive from Iowa in order to come down and see US!  I mean, we’re always the ones making it to go see THEM, so it’s super cooler to sit here and think Woah, we can see some cool people, and we don’t even have to ride in the car to do it this time!!!

And after leaving only an hour late, The Brother, Laura and Ernie are on the road.  They’re almost out of Iowa, too.

I hope they get here soon.  But….it will still be a real long time.

The sad part is, Brother told me he was down to 2-lane in Iowa near the Missouri border due to some road construction, AND I KNEW RIGHT WHERE HE WAS.

Maybe we have made that drive just a few too many times.

Oct22

Window into the mind of a genius. Or at least The Brother.

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Window into the mind of a genius. Or at least The Brother.

The Brother and Laura are coming down here tomorrow to visit us.  They are bringing their small, sensitive dog Ernie, too.  Ernie loves to pick on Henry, and Henry plays along very nicely until all of a sudden HE HAS HAD ENOUGH THANK YOU VERY MUCH and then he jumps on the furniture or demands to be held at all times in order to get away from Ernie.

Should be a great weekend.

(Brother tells me that I make the Ern sound real annoying.  And, well, he’s not THAT bad…he’s very cute and snuggly.  I’m sure I’ll post about 5,000 pictures of him and Henry fighting.)

We have all kinds of stuff planned.  Mostly free stuff, too, because we’re smart like that.  But before we can do any of this cool stuff, they have to get here.

Brother just asked me the best route for getting through KC and, after much debate and looking at the road construction reports, he decided he’s going to go all the way around the outside.

Brother is the kind of guy who, last time we were all in the B-W had our route planned out to the second. And he would use his humongous calculator (which probably weighed as much as the hiking boots I had opted to leave out at the last second) to ascertain if we were ahead or behind of schedule, and if we could afford to rest at the next portage.

I’m not kidding.  He had CHARTS and stuff.

So Brother is, today, trying to come up with his traffic estimate plans and schedule.  I happened to mention to him that Google Maps has as traffic option.  With this new found gem of information, Brother went basically bonkers.

And I quote:

Andrew: oh sweeeeet
you can customize the time of day
and it’ll show you the average traffic for that time of day
Jenna: i know
it’s so handy
Andrew: this is crazy awesome

And so Brother now knows where he will get hung up on slowdowns all the way from Iowa to Texas.

I’ll bet YOUR brother doesn’t know that.  Pwn.

In any case, Brother and Laura and Ern estimate their arrival into the Metroplex around 5:30.  And that’s including time for rush hour slowdown, of course.

That gives me just enough time to give my house a quick cleaning tonight and go shopping to buy the traditional foods from the store.  Traditional foods, you say?  Well, Pepsi, Root Beer, Lucky Charms and cinnamon rolls, of course…among other things.

(Basically all the stuff Mom never let us eat much of when we kids but that we got by the pound at Grandma’s house.  Except Mom started letting us have cinnamon rolls by the time I got to high school.)

Oct22

Sometimes the numbers go UP

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Sometimes the numbers go UP

I was minding my own business and drying my hair this morning, when Joey waltzed (WALTZED!) into the bathroom.  There may or may not have been skipping and singing involved.  His perkiness level was through the roof.

He leaned over the sink and examined his teeth.

He looked at his eye.

He said HI HI HI HI HI to me.

Then he decided it was time to get on the scale.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” I asked him.  “You’re kind of a fat cow.”

Everyone knows this is not true, but I like to goad him about it every so often just the same.

Joey stepped on the scale and yelled, “ERROR?!  It’s giving me an ERROR?!”

“And what was I just saying something about someone being a fat cow…?” I mumbled.

“I am not either a fat cow,” Joey glared at me.

I raised my eyebrows at him, because that was the only thing I could think of on short notice.

Joey stepped off the scale and thought for a moment.  “I’m a fat bull,” he said.  “If you’re going to call me fat, at least get the gender of the animal correct.  I MEAN SERIOUSLY, what kind of farm girl ARE you?”

“Fine,” I said.  “You’re a fat bull.”

Of course, none of this is true at all.  Joey could eat an entire three-tier wedding cake all by himself and not gain any weight.  And right after that he could go to HuHot and eat 3 huge bowls and still be just fine.  And on the same day he could polish off a 24 pack of Mountain Dew, and then finally maybe put on a pound.

Lucky boys.

Anyway, I’m totally off track.

Joey finally got the scale to reset and stepped on to weigh himself.

The shriek and horror of the “IT WENT UP!?” wail that directly followed the stepping on the scale was priceless.  I smirked.

Welcome to my world, Joey Woestman.

Oct21

Vitamins and Orange Juice

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Vitamins and Orange Juice

When we went to Branson on Spring Break last year, we met up with my family and trashed out a condo.  When I say “trashed out”, I mostly mean we left water glasses and plates everywhere, which is exactly what we do to poor Mom’s house when everyone is home together.  It’s left over from our homeschool days, I think, when we would take our glasses and snack plates to our desks, or the living room floor, or dining room table, or wherever we happened to be working that day and then forget them there after we were done working.

Then Mom would run out of dishes and send us through the house on the hunt for everything.

Poor Mom.

Anyway, Joey was feeling kind of sketchy one morning.  I told him he was not allowed to get sick, so I handed him his four vitamins and told him to take those.

He did so, and on an empty stomach.

Then Mom, who was circulating around the room passing out breakfast and offering suggestions “like here, eat this banana” or “have some yogurt” or “Pop Tarts are bad for you” handed Joey a glass of orange juice.

Joey drank it, and he drank it fast.

About ten minutes later, he turned a really strange shade of pink and gray and RAN to our room, slamming doors behind him as he went.  He returned shortly, announcing that he had upchucked all the vitamins I gave him.

Mom and I both felt real bad, me because I gave them to him on an empty stomach, and Mom because she had handed him the glass of orange juice.

Joey still makes me feel guilty about the vitamins and orange juice incident.  About, oh, once every month or two he says BUT REMEMBER THE TIME YOU MADE ME THROW UP.

No mention at all of MOM being the one who handed him the orange juice.  NONE.  It’s all my fault.

<sigh>

This morning, I decided to see if I had a stronger system than Joey.  I lined up all eight of my vitamins and slammed them down all at once.  Then I ate a little bit of food.  Then I drank a lot of orange juice, really fast-like.

So far I’m feeling pretty good.

HA, Joey.  Take that.

Oct21

Messing it up

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Messing it up

For the last several weeks, Joey has been getting up promptly when the alarm goes off to get the coffee ready.  Now that Jeeves makes us coffee, his little whirring sound works in tandem with our alarms.  It allows us to feel justified for hitting Snooze once, because the coffee isn’t finished yet anyway.

After he pours two mugs, he doctors them up.  (He has greatly improved in this.  He used to put about 1/2 cup of sugar and a tablespoon of milk in mine; it’s not so easy to drink with that much sugar in it.  Now he just dumps in some flavored creamer.)  Then he tiptoes back into the dark bedroom and puts my mug on the dresser and turns on my bedside light and announces to me that coffee is ready.

Aside: the first time he tried this bringing the coffee to me thing, he put it on my nightstand.  And somehow I spilled it before I even sat up or took a drink, so now the coffee goes on the dresser for maximum safety.

On Monday morning, I woke up first.  I flipped on my light, grabbed Henry and gave him his Morning Rubs, made Henry walk on Joey, and asked Joey a couple of questions.  My alarm went off post-snooze, so I slapped it again and announced that I’d go out to get Joey coffee.  (You should know that I left my light on.)  I did not shut the bedroom door, and made noise in the kitchen.

When I brought back Joey’s mug, he sat up disgruntled and told me that I do a terrible job of bringing coffee, and I should do it HIS way.

HIS way, of course, entails sneaking away in the dark, shutting the bedroom door, and noiselessly bringing back a steaming cup o’ Joe.  (HA.  A cup o’ Joe to Joey!  Only never call him Joe, Internet, because that’s not his name.)

This morning after Jeeves went off, I could see that Joey was being particularly headstrong about waking up. So I decided to try bringing him coffee HIS way.  I selected our matching Grace Bible Church mugs that we got a few weeks ago, his says Audiovisual on it and mine says Music.  (He’s not allowed to touch my Music mug, and he knows it.  So he does it all the time just to make me mad.) A few nearly silent minutes later, it was ready, so I snuck back into the darkened room and set the coffee on his nightstand.  He’s more coordinated than I am, being a juggler and whatever, so I trust him not to spill.

He was all WOAH THANKS! but I silently slipped out of the room and shut the door.

Didn’t want to be accused of doing it wrong again, you know.

Several minutes later, he emerged wearing his Boundary Waters morning clothes, which he’s been wearing in the mornings lately.  Every time I see them I half expect him to fall on a saw again.  He shuffled toward me carrying his coffee.

“Did I do OK?” I asked.

“Yeah, you did great,” he said. “Except, you gave me the Music mug.”

“WHAT?” I screamed.  ”I checked like three times, I swear I gave you the Audiovisual mug!”

Then he grinned his evil early morning grin, and showed me that I had in fact given him the Audiovisual mug.

Whew.

It would have ruined my day if he drank out of my Music mug.