So, I have found out that my sister is planning to name her child for the same relative that we are planning to name for. (This is somewhat dependent on the gender of Co's and my children, whether we end up really doing it.)
It is okay, in Jewish families, for more than one child to be named for an ancestor. It happens.
In this case, my sister wasn't sure if she even wanted to name for this relative (you know, if someone had a lot of faults, do you want to name for them? stuff like that). Last we spoke about naming for relatives, she said she wouldn't do it.
Co and I innocently expressed our opinion that it is okay to name for this relative, and why we feel that way.
And now, apparently she has changed her mind.
I know I can do it too. But she will have done it first. This was something I wanted to do for my Daddy. But now I can't, and it's my own fault for being honest and telling her our thoughts.
Is my rage/desire to curl up in a ball and disappear completely unreasonable??
I really don't know.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
In Praise of Nurses
At least two of the women on my "blogroll" are nurses. So, I thought I would share info about a book about nurses written by my Aunt Bernice. (She is not really my aunt in the biological sense. She is, in fact, not technically biologically related to me. But we here in Queer Family Blogland know how that is.)
The book is called From Silence to Voice: What Nurses Know and Must Communicate to the Public.
(I haven't read all of it yet, I admit, but I do own a copy!)
The book is called From Silence to Voice: What Nurses Know and Must Communicate to the Public.
(I haven't read all of it yet, I admit, but I do own a copy!)
Monday, May 15, 2006
Lo's Interview Q's, plus Interview Take 2
Okay, three people have agreed to be interviewed by my cutting-edge, biting, journalistic mind. So Charlotte, Deana, and Eryn, here are your questions. I'm looking forward to reading your answers!
Charlotte:
1) I/we all know you're a mom, and a chef. What other hobbies/pasttimes are dear to your heart?
2) What would you say is the best part of being a mom for you? The hardest?
3) Of your various ethnicities, is there one you identify with more than another?
4) What drew you to being a therapist?
5) Do you love where you live? If you could live anywhere else in the world, would you? (And where would it be?)
Deana:
1) What is your favorite thing about your recent move to N.Y.C.? (You can list a few if necessary. :-)
2) What's the best thing about your new job? What's the worst thing about your new job?
3) What would be your dream job?
4) How would you describe the role of religion in your life?
5) What's your favorite book & why?
Eryn:
1) Have you always known you wanted to have a child(ren)? Explain...
2) Cape Cod & Western Mass....compare & contrast.
3) What's your favorite candy?
4) How did you and Amy meet?
5) What do you enjoy about working with college students? (or, what do you find frustrating about it. Or both.)
----------------------
Being the interview slut that I am, I agreed to be interviewed by Sarah. Here are my responses to her questions.
1) If you could live in any another country (other than your own), where would you live and why?
Canada. Because I am fluent in English and adore French (though I wouldn't say I'm fluent); because Stephen Harper notwithstanding it's to some degree a socialist country and that's more my speed; because when I'm there, I feel like I'm in one country among many (as opposed to the USA hubris of being The Only Country That Matters). And, I admit it, Coffee Crunch. I would repatriate over Coffee Crunch.
2) What would your dream job be? Why?
My dream job would be to teach middle school in a K--8 setting to a sincerely diverse (in terms of race, ethnicity, class, ability) group of children. And where I have the opportunity to design my own curriculum. That is more or less what I do now. However, this is all pending the feelings & actions of New Boss. We'll see. I may need to find a new dream job.
3) If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Please Explain.
I am way, way, way , way too emotional. I would turn it off.
4) What would you ultimate vacation be? Why?
Hmmm. The beach would be involved. I *love* the ocean -- getting right into the waves. I also love being with Co and Maggie, at the ocean. And I love cooking fresh local food. So, I guess renting a house near a beach. I have other ambitions, like going to Europe...but to be honest, the ocean and my family is really what I dream about.
5) If you could travel back in time to see any event in real life, what would it be and why?
That is a tough question. I have often wished I was alive during the American civil rights movement in the late '50s -- '60s. I would have wanted to be a part of that. I'm not exactly sure what I would have done but I wish I had been around to do something.
Thanks Sarah!
Charlotte:
1) I/we all know you're a mom, and a chef. What other hobbies/pasttimes are dear to your heart?
2) What would you say is the best part of being a mom for you? The hardest?
3) Of your various ethnicities, is there one you identify with more than another?
4) What drew you to being a therapist?
5) Do you love where you live? If you could live anywhere else in the world, would you? (And where would it be?)
Deana:
1) What is your favorite thing about your recent move to N.Y.C.? (You can list a few if necessary. :-)
2) What's the best thing about your new job? What's the worst thing about your new job?
3) What would be your dream job?
4) How would you describe the role of religion in your life?
5) What's your favorite book & why?
Eryn:
1) Have you always known you wanted to have a child(ren)? Explain...
2) Cape Cod & Western Mass....compare & contrast.
3) What's your favorite candy?
4) How did you and Amy meet?
5) What do you enjoy about working with college students? (or, what do you find frustrating about it. Or both.)
----------------------
Being the interview slut that I am, I agreed to be interviewed by Sarah. Here are my responses to her questions.
1) If you could live in any another country (other than your own), where would you live and why?
Canada. Because I am fluent in English and adore French (though I wouldn't say I'm fluent); because Stephen Harper notwithstanding it's to some degree a socialist country and that's more my speed; because when I'm there, I feel like I'm in one country among many (as opposed to the USA hubris of being The Only Country That Matters). And, I admit it, Coffee Crunch. I would repatriate over Coffee Crunch.
2) What would your dream job be? Why?
My dream job would be to teach middle school in a K--8 setting to a sincerely diverse (in terms of race, ethnicity, class, ability) group of children. And where I have the opportunity to design my own curriculum. That is more or less what I do now. However, this is all pending the feelings & actions of New Boss. We'll see. I may need to find a new dream job.
3) If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Please Explain.
I am way, way, way , way too emotional. I would turn it off.
4) What would you ultimate vacation be? Why?
Hmmm. The beach would be involved. I *love* the ocean -- getting right into the waves. I also love being with Co and Maggie, at the ocean. And I love cooking fresh local food. So, I guess renting a house near a beach. I have other ambitions, like going to Europe...but to be honest, the ocean and my family is really what I dream about.
5) If you could travel back in time to see any event in real life, what would it be and why?
That is a tough question. I have often wished I was alive during the American civil rights movement in the late '50s -- '60s. I would have wanted to be a part of that. I'm not exactly sure what I would have done but I wish I had been around to do something.
Thanks Sarah!
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Interview with Lo
So, this is a meme from Art-Sweet (who credits HD).
The meme works like this:
* Leave me a comment saying “interview me.” The first five commenters will be the participants.
* I will respond by asking you five questions.
* You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
* You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
* When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
And now, my questions, as posed by Art-Sweet herself:
1. If you could ask George Bush one question, which he would be required to answer honestly, what would it be?
In exactly which ways are your policies (particularly educational ones) hypocritical and self-serving?
2. How did you meet Co? Was it love at first sight?
I met Co at a cafe. It's a cafe in the city where we live that has books of personal ads....sort of like Internet dating but not quite!!! I went to the cafe with my friend W. and we both made pages for the books, and looked through the ads. I "requested" a number of people, including Co. The people at the cafe called me back a few days later to say that Co had agreed to meet me. Of course, the cafe arranges for you to have a date at the cafe. So we did. And it turned out that her best friend J. from college was my best friend from graduate school. Weird.
I wouldn't say "love at first sight," I would say "deep interest" at first sight.
3. If you could relive one year of your life, what year would it be - and why?
I think it might be seventh grade. That was a very hard year for some reasons....but a wonderful year for others. I really felt like I was a part of my school community, my home life wasn't too terrible. I could feel my little wings starting to spread. I remember that fondly.
4. Do you also hope to bio-mom at some point?
Yes, I do. Our plan (the best-laid plans of mice and men....) is for Co to have Baby 1.0 and me to have Baby 2.0. And the brilliant logic behind this plan? She's 1 year older. I think that's a fine enough reason.
5. What do you like about seventh graders?
I like in them what I liked in myself in 7th grade...all that potential. All that becoming. The experimenting with identity, the wondering, the soul-searching, and the glimmering beginnings of abstract thought. I find it a very exciting age to enage intellectually because it's really the beginning of kids being able to engage intellectually!
And, also, they're funny. I have a pretty 7th grade sense of humor. Not all the time, but enough so that we amuse each other.
So if you'd like to be interviewed, comment on this post and I will oblige with five questions for the first five people.
The meme works like this:
* Leave me a comment saying “interview me.” The first five commenters will be the participants.
* I will respond by asking you five questions.
* You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
* You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
* When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
And now, my questions, as posed by Art-Sweet herself:
1. If you could ask George Bush one question, which he would be required to answer honestly, what would it be?
In exactly which ways are your policies (particularly educational ones) hypocritical and self-serving?
2. How did you meet Co? Was it love at first sight?
I met Co at a cafe. It's a cafe in the city where we live that has books of personal ads....sort of like Internet dating but not quite!!! I went to the cafe with my friend W. and we both made pages for the books, and looked through the ads. I "requested" a number of people, including Co. The people at the cafe called me back a few days later to say that Co had agreed to meet me. Of course, the cafe arranges for you to have a date at the cafe. So we did. And it turned out that her best friend J. from college was my best friend from graduate school. Weird.
I wouldn't say "love at first sight," I would say "deep interest" at first sight.
3. If you could relive one year of your life, what year would it be - and why?
I think it might be seventh grade. That was a very hard year for some reasons....but a wonderful year for others. I really felt like I was a part of my school community, my home life wasn't too terrible. I could feel my little wings starting to spread. I remember that fondly.
4. Do you also hope to bio-mom at some point?
Yes, I do. Our plan (the best-laid plans of mice and men....) is for Co to have Baby 1.0 and me to have Baby 2.0. And the brilliant logic behind this plan? She's 1 year older. I think that's a fine enough reason.
5. What do you like about seventh graders?
I like in them what I liked in myself in 7th grade...all that potential. All that becoming. The experimenting with identity, the wondering, the soul-searching, and the glimmering beginnings of abstract thought. I find it a very exciting age to enage intellectually because it's really the beginning of kids being able to engage intellectually!
And, also, they're funny. I have a pretty 7th grade sense of humor. Not all the time, but enough so that we amuse each other.
So if you'd like to be interviewed, comment on this post and I will oblige with five questions for the first five people.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Family Drama (Lo's Lifetime Movie)
**Please scroll down to read about sperm! I really want any and all input about our options.
I need to pick out a Mother's Day gift this weekend, and that's not so easy.
My mother and my sister are not speaking to me right now. (So for immediate family, that leaves my dad, who is divorced from my mom, and is speaking to me. But he is very New England male [not to stereotype, some New England males are very warm, but it's a type], a distant character.)
My mother and sister both say I am manipulative and abusive and they can't take my negativity any more. I have discussed with my therapist, of course. I will be as honest here as I was with her. Here's what I have done: after initially expressing joy that my sister was pregnant, I shared my concerns with my mother and with my father (they both share my concerns, which are largely financial, and were not upset with me for expressing them). I did not tell my sister how I felt. I finally told her (I think twice) that it's hard for me when she goes on and on about her pregnancy and her anxieties about circumcision, because Co and I are in a place where we can't even *try* to get pregnant right now (since we're in the midst of looking for a donor/saving the $ for popsicles/going to doctors).
One of the times I asked her to be a little more respectful, a) we had just (the day before maybe?) found out that our original PKD was a no-go, and b) she was buggine me about my opinions on circumcision. Male circumcision is a hot button issue for me, as some people who read this blog know, and something I really, really, really, really don't like to talk about. I am not circumcised. I do not have any brothers. My father, since we are a Jewish family, is (I have been told) circumcised. And that is all I will say on the matter.
My sister and my mother both feel that my telling my sister my honest feelings was (as stated above) hostile, manipulative, and abusive. So right now they have chosen to distance themselves from my painful presence. I've been told this verbally as well as through email.
I do not WANT to be ANY of the adjectives listed above, and have done a lot of thinking about whether I did something that was, in fact, unfair and hurtful. I guess I don't think I have, so it's painful to me that my honesty has both of them so upset (I did try to express my feelings kindly and gently, I really don't want to hurt anyone; I can be a passionate person, no doubt about it, but I have not yelled at my sister; I admit that I yell at my mom sometimes, but mostly I just cry around her).
I've been clearly warned by both mother and sister that if I do not choose to "behave" myself (I don't know what that would mean, I put it in quotes because it's a word they both use), I may not get to have a relationship with my niece or nephew.
OF COURSE I want a relationship with my niece/nephew. OF COURSE this freaks me out. However, one thing my mom and sister don't understand is that as a lesbian with an alternative definition of family, there are already children in the world who I fully consider my nieces and nephews. So while it is certainly momentous to become a biological aunt, this is not the first time I have eagerly anticipated the arrival of a child to whom I will feel that kind of connection. I will not list names here....but Z. and N. and E. and R. and D. and A. are all my nieces & nephews in my heart. I don't mean to discount the importance of my sister's child, I really don't, but I'm hoping people in the community I'm writing for will understand what I mean.
So this weekend I need to pick something to send for Mother's Day, because it really would be hostile not to send her something (as I always have) just because she is kind of ignoring me right now. And that's not going to be an enjoyable task. I also have to pick a birthday present for my brother-in-law (sister's husband) for the same reason. And I am going to enjoy that task even less. Oh, the joy.
Plus I'm sick (no it's not allergies, though here in the Northeast the pollen is laying waste to much of the population), which is not improving my outlook on anything right now.
I need to pick out a Mother's Day gift this weekend, and that's not so easy.
My mother and my sister are not speaking to me right now. (So for immediate family, that leaves my dad, who is divorced from my mom, and is speaking to me. But he is very New England male [not to stereotype, some New England males are very warm, but it's a type], a distant character.)
My mother and sister both say I am manipulative and abusive and they can't take my negativity any more. I have discussed with my therapist, of course. I will be as honest here as I was with her. Here's what I have done: after initially expressing joy that my sister was pregnant, I shared my concerns with my mother and with my father (they both share my concerns, which are largely financial, and were not upset with me for expressing them). I did not tell my sister how I felt. I finally told her (I think twice) that it's hard for me when she goes on and on about her pregnancy and her anxieties about circumcision, because Co and I are in a place where we can't even *try* to get pregnant right now (since we're in the midst of looking for a donor/saving the $ for popsicles/going to doctors).
One of the times I asked her to be a little more respectful, a) we had just (the day before maybe?) found out that our original PKD was a no-go, and b) she was buggine me about my opinions on circumcision. Male circumcision is a hot button issue for me, as some people who read this blog know, and something I really, really, really, really don't like to talk about. I am not circumcised. I do not have any brothers. My father, since we are a Jewish family, is (I have been told) circumcised. And that is all I will say on the matter.
My sister and my mother both feel that my telling my sister my honest feelings was (as stated above) hostile, manipulative, and abusive. So right now they have chosen to distance themselves from my painful presence. I've been told this verbally as well as through email.
I do not WANT to be ANY of the adjectives listed above, and have done a lot of thinking about whether I did something that was, in fact, unfair and hurtful. I guess I don't think I have, so it's painful to me that my honesty has both of them so upset (I did try to express my feelings kindly and gently, I really don't want to hurt anyone; I can be a passionate person, no doubt about it, but I have not yelled at my sister; I admit that I yell at my mom sometimes, but mostly I just cry around her).
I've been clearly warned by both mother and sister that if I do not choose to "behave" myself (I don't know what that would mean, I put it in quotes because it's a word they both use), I may not get to have a relationship with my niece or nephew.
OF COURSE I want a relationship with my niece/nephew. OF COURSE this freaks me out. However, one thing my mom and sister don't understand is that as a lesbian with an alternative definition of family, there are already children in the world who I fully consider my nieces and nephews. So while it is certainly momentous to become a biological aunt, this is not the first time I have eagerly anticipated the arrival of a child to whom I will feel that kind of connection. I will not list names here....but Z. and N. and E. and R. and D. and A. are all my nieces & nephews in my heart. I don't mean to discount the importance of my sister's child, I really don't, but I'm hoping people in the community I'm writing for will understand what I mean.
So this weekend I need to pick something to send for Mother's Day, because it really would be hostile not to send her something (as I always have) just because she is kind of ignoring me right now. And that's not going to be an enjoyable task. I also have to pick a birthday present for my brother-in-law (sister's husband) for the same reason. And I am going to enjoy that task even less. Oh, the joy.
Plus I'm sick (no it's not allergies, though here in the Northeast the pollen is laying waste to much of the population), which is not improving my outlook on anything right now.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Sperm Options
Quick disclaimer on the photo: I'm no fan of Woody Allen. However, this post just needed a photo of him in a sperm costume as illustration. It's from the movie "Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Sex...but Were Afraid to Ask." I often feel like my life should be sub-titled, "Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Lesbian Conception..."....you get the idea.
I've been wanting to write about this latest update in our sperm-venture for some time. My job has been sucking the life out of me (and everyone else who dares work there) but here it is 9pm and I'm actually at home!! Wheeee!
"Option" #1: This one's not a real option (yet, anyway). A friend "put a bug in the ear"* of someone she knows about the concept of donation. (That's different from directly asking.) She promised she'll tell me if she hears anything on that front. I don't know who she asked and I'm certain it's no one I know (she's an elementary/high school friend and we don't live in the same state); I only know that he fits our requirements. [Our requirements are that he has sperm and does not live in our neighborhood (and of course HIV testing and no Tay Sachs or CF carriers, though even that last part could go if Co turns up clean on that front).] Well, and obviously that he does not want to be a parent in any sense of the word. I am trying to be patient and act like I don't care and it doesn't matter to me that she opened that can of worms, and for the most part that's true...but also, I'm pretty sperm-obsessed right now.
*I once really did have a bug fly into my ear. It was horrible and traumatic and I have friends who still tease me about the intensity of my reaction, but really, Gentle Reader, think about how it would feel to have wings flapping in your ear. ;-)
Option #2: The second idea is realer. I have a cousin who I've thought of more than once. He's a 2nd cousin, for those who keep track of such things; that means we have the same great-grandparents and not the same grandparents, not that we ever met those shared great-grandparents. I only have one first cousin, and she's, well, a she. This PKD Cousin is the same gentleman my mom once suggested as a donor for both of us. She repeated this suggestion at our Passover visit, pointing out once again that he is only my second cousin. Little did she know I had already sent out an anxious email query, which after some consideration he and his wife answered with a "sure, we would do that for you if we could."
(NO, not as a donor for both of us, we would only use him for Co. On my father's side of the family, second cousins are considered dateable, but there have been (in my humble and scientifically informed opinion) some negative consequences. Diversity is healthy in every. single. way.
The serious catch is that he does not live in the United States. He does not live in Canada, either; I mean a serious plane ride away. However, he has plans to be in the States in both August and September. We could, essentially, try twice and see what happens. (Do I know if those dates coincide with an ovulation? No, I don't right now, but if we were going to try this, we'd just have to try it. With fresh sperm, it IS possible to get pregnant when you're not ovulating. Just ask those rhythm method people.)
The other serious catch is that I don't think it would be a great idea for the rest of our relatives to know (at first, that is) that the child was biologically related to him. That's the reason it took me so long to bring this up with him, more than his distance. He has parents and two grandmothers to have, well, feelings. However, they really wouldn't need to know in the beginning. We want to be honest with the child, of course. But by the time a theoretical child would be old enough to be talk/understand, either my cousin or his younger brother would have produced an heir, and that would change the family dynamic. (I'm having serious tense trouble here. If English has a proper subjunctive, I was never taught it well.)
My family is very spread out, so this child would exist only in photos for my cousin's close relatives (his parents and one grandma live in Canada, and not a part that is close to us, and the other grandma lives in Florida). If the kid turned out to look a bit like him, well, people say he and I look alike. (Because we are named for our shared great-grandparents, he for the great-grandfather and I for the great-grandmother, there has always been a desire to suggest that we have a connection. And, well, we do.)
So the input I'm seeking from the blogosphere is this: does that sound like a crazy and unhealthy idea? Does the idea of not disclosing the child's donor to the rest of the family (including, say, my mom) at first sound very unhealthy? My cousin said he is okay with it either way, so long as the child would know (which of course is a must for Co and myself as well).
We can also just buy the "popsicles" from Sperm Bank of California and we really are okay with that. But I will openly admit that I *like* the idea of having this cousin as a donor. I think he would be a really good Super Uncle. Also....Charlotte has written about the idea of donor as "surrogate self." I can't get Co pregnant, and while I am not heavily invested in picking someone like myself from the lists of sperm bank donors, I can't deny the attraction of this cousin who is somewhat like myself. He's a professional writer...deeply political...very musical....while we do not look alike, really, we were both little blond, blue-eyed kids with Semitic features and that made people say we looked alike. He's only six months younger than I am (though a grade behind in school as a result) and we had a pretty intense bond for parts of our childhood. The most charming example I can think of is playing Simon & Garfunkel duets (he on guitar, me on flute) when we were 10 or 11. I do not NEED to have my genetics represented in this child (and this isn't my brother by a long-shot; I don't have a brother or any male first cousins) but yes, there is something I like about having someone connected to me be number 3 in this project. He even fits my somewhat bratty self-hating requirement of not being 100% Ashkenazi Jew. (His mother converted before she met his father, and he was raised as Jewishly as I was, but that doesn't change the genetics. I do want to intentionally mix up the world, damn it.)
This is too long, I think, but I do want to share it all. So if you've read this far, thank you for your patience, and I politely request your commentary. (And if you know me in that foggy place we call "real life," please do not publish anything that would reveal PKD Cousin's identity. He's not world famous but I bet he'd like to stay that way.)
Friday, April 28, 2006
"I Had a Bad Day" or Why Lo Wants To Be A Plumber
There is some Big Drama going on at my school about leadership. I really can't post about it right now, though I will when I can (one of the Major Players has requested confidentiality). I am looking forward to blogging about this power struggle, because there have been some hysterically funny moments. Today the Business Manager, a sweet grandfather who is rumored to be a Republican, and who was slightly flustered when he and I had to talk about domestic partnership, made a joke about testicles in front of me. That is not normal in our community.
Suffice to say, this nonsense has kept me busier than any human being should be who is a) not applying for a job and b) not earning a six figure salary. However, I really believe in my school (a small community that is diverse in race, class, ability, you name it...) so I'm fighting 'cause, well, someone has to.
Tonight, while I was lying half-clothed face down on the floor trying to figure out why the dishwasher won't drain, I was making a list in my head of reasons it might be a good idea to try being a plumber. Now, I am not mechanically inclined. I found out through experiential learning tonight that there are sharp things in dishwashers. (Band-Aid now on left index finger.) I have to pause and think "right tighty lefty loosy" every single time I pick up a screwdriver. I would be a really lousy plumber, and your pipes will thank me for staying out of this field. However, I had a pretty long list in my head noting why plumbing (is that a word?) is better than teaching. I almost convinced myself it would be a good idea to look for apprenticeships.
And the truth is, I love teaching, there is really little else I could do well in this world. My mother has pictures of me at four in which she says I am "teaching" someone. (Well, that might say more about my mom than it does about me...)
Another thing I was very aware of, as I was poking around inside the dishwasher with a toothpick (as per the instruction manual): I get tired of being female sometimes. I sometimes feel very helpless as a female (this power thing at school has involved lots and lots and lots of men yelling at and even threatening women, including myself) and I know that the thing between me and the dishwasher was my attempt to dominate something in my life. I teach 7th grade, and when you teach 7th grade, every single day is all about struggling for dominance. (I don't mind that so much with the children, since mostly I watch them struggle for dominance with each other. I may not be taller than all of them, but I do not want to be friends with any of them, and that gives me power.)
I am no shrinking violet, but I am relatively short (about 5' 4") and I have a strong startle reflex. When men shout at me and move towards me physically, well, I don't like it. And to tell the truth I don't really know what to do about it, either (except for getting involved politically and trying to win that way).
N.B.: I do not mean in any way to imply that my lack of mechanical/technical inclination is because I am female. It's really not. My parents tried...my dad gave me his childhood Erector set and they bought me very few dolls. It's just about who I am. I do have some traits people would consider "male."
The end of the dishwasher story is that I figured out the problem, but since I am uncertain of how to fix it, I'd rather call someone who does (a.k.a. our Very Cool Super) than risk screwing it up further with my experiential learning. 'Cause that could get expensive....and we're saving our money for sperm. :-)
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
California Adventure
So here's the details on the trip to California:
I actually have a fair amount of family on the West Coast. My family's roots are all Northeast (via Eastern Europe, they immigrated to Boston and New York) but we've wandered.
The impetus of this trip was my cousin M.'s Bat Mitzvah in Stanford/Palo Alto. These life events (Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, weddings, and even funerals) are also excuses for family reunions, since my dad's side is spread across two coasts and two countries; (there's a few of them in Vancouver, B.C.). P., the youngest of my father's first cousins, is the mother of 13-year-old M. (and 11-year-old N.). M. did a beautiful and very focused job reading from the Torah and chanting blessings, and then reading her own interpretation of the Biblical instructions for Jewish dietary law (a.k.a. "keeping kosher"). Since her Torah portion was about food, her party had a food theme as well....chocolate. Co and I sat at the Ghirardelli table. (Other tables included Toblerone, Lindt, See's...) There was a chocolate fountain and tiramisu for desert, and "M's Bat Mitzvah" Hershey bars. It was really a lovely event, not too much excess (except for the chocolate, but really, one can never have too much chocolate), truly fun for both the kids (no less than 40 12-year-olds running around) and the adults.
We also paid a visit to my one first cousin (on my mom's side), who lives near Santa Cruz. Cousin C. (not to be confused with my wife Co) has two small children, 3 1/2 year old S. and 5-month-old E. It was great fun to hang out with C. and her family. Her husband R. is very sweet. They have a house up in the mountains surrounded by huge, huge trees. You have to drive up roads windier than Highway 17 to get to their house (but it's worth it). We hung out at the beach in Santa Cruz and saw sea lions in their natural habitat!
Our third planned destination was The Sperm Bank of California in Berkeley. Though TSBC is happy to do phone consultations, I felt strongly that it must be "bashert (Yiddish for "fated" or "meant to be") that we would be so near the actual office right at this time in our lives, so I arranged an appointment. We headed off from Santa Cruz with our printed-out profiles in hand....only to end up with a flat tire on our rental car. On Highway 280. We pulled over to the shoulder by an exit ramp, called the rental company's Roadside Assistance, and waited, both of us churning in our typical ways (I tend to think that all signs must mean something deep and intense that I must read like an oracle; Co tends to believe in crappy luck).
There was some confusion with the Roadside Assistance phone staff; the woman in Utah, who answered my call, couldn't get anyone to believe her that I was at Exit 37 on the freeway. The tow companies kept insisting that California does not number its exits. Well, I don't want to get too involved in California freeway politics (more on that in a moment) but we were sitting by an exit ramp literally staring at a sign that read "Exit 37." Hmmm. Eventually I was able to name some landmarks and our location was decoded. So when 20 minutes later a white truck pulled up behind us and a man began to jack up the car to change the tire, I wasn't surprised.
I was, however, surprised when my cell phone immediately rang and a disgruntled voice told me that he was from the rental car's garage and that I should tell the man to stop what he was doing. I really had no desire to stop this very, very positive turn of events, but being the Good Girl that I am, I walked over to the man (who was now almost done putting the donut on the car) and said, "Uh, you can stop." He glanced at me and said, "That's okay." Then another truck pulled up and the disgruntled voice came over in person. He was a short scowly guy with a blond crew cut. Scowly Crew Cut said, "He didn't tell you who he was, did he?" Co and I stared at each other. Nice Tire Changer seemed pretty good to us. He had handed Co a pamphlet but we had not read it. Scowly Crew Cut told Nice Tire Changer that he would finish the job (really at this point there was no job to finish). Nice Tire Changer replied, "You know we don't work like that." Scowly Crew Cut insisted on double-checking Nice Tire Changer's impeccable work.
By this time I had figured out something was going on, though darned if I knew what. Scowly Crew Cut hung around a bit, complained that Nice Tire Changer hadn't "introduced himself," had Co sign a piece of paper, and finally left. And it was thus, from the lips of Nice Tire Changer, that Co and I learned about the Freeway Safety Patrol. In California, if you have car trouble on a major freeway, there are people who will come help you FOR FREE. Insurance (especially crappy rental care roadside assistance in Utah, no offense Chicory) be damned...if they see you in distress, they will help. And the garages who profit from the insurance companies don't like it one bit.
Wow. That is some cool socialist hippie California stuff!! I wish we had that program in the Northeast. Nice Tire Changer even stayed behind us and helped us merge back into traffic.
The next step of the adventure was to trade in the wounded Chevy Malibu for another car (since we still had to get to Palo Alto). I called the closest location of the rental company and they assured me they had plenty of "midsize" cars. When we arrived, however, the agent said they could only give us a Nissan Murano, which in case you don't know (I sure didn't) is an "SUV crossover vehicle." Neither Co nor I had ever before driven such a vehicle (we own a Saturn sedan) so that made us a bit nervous. I think that the rental agent expected us to be excited about receiving the big silver Murano for the same price as the Chevy Malibu. However, not only were we mildly anxious about driving the enormous beast, I personally have a previous association with the word Marrano(which of course is what I heard when he said "Murano"). So, I am hoping that spending the weekend with me and Co, at a Bat Mitzvah, helped the big silver beastie get in touch with its Judaism. In return, the Marrano has given us the opportunity to say we have driven an SUV.
Finally, the Marrano assisted us with one more visit: we met Charlotte, S., and LM in the flesh. It was fun!
*We did not make it to the sperm bank, of course, which disappointed me mightily, but of course we can and will arrange a phone consultation. Our primary relationship with that bank would be a postal one anyway. So I do not, personally, take this as a sign that we will not be using their goods....although some other possibilities have suddenly and unexpectedly reared their heads. I'll be blogging about that soon...
I actually have a fair amount of family on the West Coast. My family's roots are all Northeast (via Eastern Europe, they immigrated to Boston and New York) but we've wandered.
The impetus of this trip was my cousin M.'s Bat Mitzvah in Stanford/Palo Alto. These life events (Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, weddings, and even funerals) are also excuses for family reunions, since my dad's side is spread across two coasts and two countries; (there's a few of them in Vancouver, B.C.). P., the youngest of my father's first cousins, is the mother of 13-year-old M. (and 11-year-old N.). M. did a beautiful and very focused job reading from the Torah and chanting blessings, and then reading her own interpretation of the Biblical instructions for Jewish dietary law (a.k.a. "keeping kosher"). Since her Torah portion was about food, her party had a food theme as well....chocolate. Co and I sat at the Ghirardelli table. (Other tables included Toblerone, Lindt, See's...) There was a chocolate fountain and tiramisu for desert, and "M's Bat Mitzvah" Hershey bars. It was really a lovely event, not too much excess (except for the chocolate, but really, one can never have too much chocolate), truly fun for both the kids (no less than 40 12-year-olds running around) and the adults.
We also paid a visit to my one first cousin (on my mom's side), who lives near Santa Cruz. Cousin C. (not to be confused with my wife Co) has two small children, 3 1/2 year old S. and 5-month-old E. It was great fun to hang out with C. and her family. Her husband R. is very sweet. They have a house up in the mountains surrounded by huge, huge trees. You have to drive up roads windier than Highway 17 to get to their house (but it's worth it). We hung out at the beach in Santa Cruz and saw sea lions in their natural habitat!
Our third planned destination was The Sperm Bank of California in Berkeley. Though TSBC is happy to do phone consultations, I felt strongly that it must be "bashert (Yiddish for "fated" or "meant to be") that we would be so near the actual office right at this time in our lives, so I arranged an appointment. We headed off from Santa Cruz with our printed-out profiles in hand....only to end up with a flat tire on our rental car. On Highway 280. We pulled over to the shoulder by an exit ramp, called the rental company's Roadside Assistance, and waited, both of us churning in our typical ways (I tend to think that all signs must mean something deep and intense that I must read like an oracle; Co tends to believe in crappy luck).
There was some confusion with the Roadside Assistance phone staff; the woman in Utah, who answered my call, couldn't get anyone to believe her that I was at Exit 37 on the freeway. The tow companies kept insisting that California does not number its exits. Well, I don't want to get too involved in California freeway politics (more on that in a moment) but we were sitting by an exit ramp literally staring at a sign that read "Exit 37." Hmmm. Eventually I was able to name some landmarks and our location was decoded. So when 20 minutes later a white truck pulled up behind us and a man began to jack up the car to change the tire, I wasn't surprised.
I was, however, surprised when my cell phone immediately rang and a disgruntled voice told me that he was from the rental car's garage and that I should tell the man to stop what he was doing. I really had no desire to stop this very, very positive turn of events, but being the Good Girl that I am, I walked over to the man (who was now almost done putting the donut on the car) and said, "Uh, you can stop." He glanced at me and said, "That's okay." Then another truck pulled up and the disgruntled voice came over in person. He was a short scowly guy with a blond crew cut. Scowly Crew Cut said, "He didn't tell you who he was, did he?" Co and I stared at each other. Nice Tire Changer seemed pretty good to us. He had handed Co a pamphlet but we had not read it. Scowly Crew Cut told Nice Tire Changer that he would finish the job (really at this point there was no job to finish). Nice Tire Changer replied, "You know we don't work like that." Scowly Crew Cut insisted on double-checking Nice Tire Changer's impeccable work.
By this time I had figured out something was going on, though darned if I knew what. Scowly Crew Cut hung around a bit, complained that Nice Tire Changer hadn't "introduced himself," had Co sign a piece of paper, and finally left. And it was thus, from the lips of Nice Tire Changer, that Co and I learned about the Freeway Safety Patrol. In California, if you have car trouble on a major freeway, there are people who will come help you FOR FREE. Insurance (especially crappy rental care roadside assistance in Utah, no offense Chicory) be damned...if they see you in distress, they will help. And the garages who profit from the insurance companies don't like it one bit.
Wow. That is some cool socialist hippie California stuff!! I wish we had that program in the Northeast. Nice Tire Changer even stayed behind us and helped us merge back into traffic.
The next step of the adventure was to trade in the wounded Chevy Malibu for another car (since we still had to get to Palo Alto). I called the closest location of the rental company and they assured me they had plenty of "midsize" cars. When we arrived, however, the agent said they could only give us a Nissan Murano, which in case you don't know (I sure didn't) is an "SUV crossover vehicle." Neither Co nor I had ever before driven such a vehicle (we own a Saturn sedan) so that made us a bit nervous. I think that the rental agent expected us to be excited about receiving the big silver Murano for the same price as the Chevy Malibu. However, not only were we mildly anxious about driving the enormous beast, I personally have a previous association with the word Marrano(which of course is what I heard when he said "Murano"). So, I am hoping that spending the weekend with me and Co, at a Bat Mitzvah, helped the big silver beastie get in touch with its Judaism. In return, the Marrano has given us the opportunity to say we have driven an SUV.
Finally, the Marrano assisted us with one more visit: we met Charlotte, S., and LM in the flesh. It was fun!
*We did not make it to the sperm bank, of course, which disappointed me mightily, but of course we can and will arrange a phone consultation. Our primary relationship with that bank would be a postal one anyway. So I do not, personally, take this as a sign that we will not be using their goods....although some other possibilities have suddenly and unexpectedly reared their heads. I'll be blogging about that soon...
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Blogging Away From Home
I am in California, with Co, for a family event (a Bat Mitzvah).
(We do not live in California. This is kind of a Big Trip.)
I cried at the Bat Mitzvah, which shocked me, because I have never cried at one before. A Bat Mitzvah involves lots of 12 & 13 year old girls running around and giggling and hiding in the bathroom and, in 2006, doing cell-phone related stuff...making calls and taking pictures and sending email and making Belgian waffles (okay, perhaps that last was a slight exaggeration. but only slight). However, as a person who is thinking as mindfully (not to say obsessively) about having children as I am, seeing the ritual of passing a tradition down through the generations actually brought up something in me that made tears run down my cheeks.
I am here with Co, as I said, and also with my father, and his wife, who is not my mother. I lost count (I was counting at first) of the number of times people assumed she was my mother. I've been letting it go because they're not people that I'm going to see again, so that's okay, and I don't want to create ugliness. (There's a Jewish Thing about Not Getting Divorced.) But She. Is. Not. My. Mom. We get along now, okay, but I repeat: Not. My. Mom.
But my father's first cousin and her husband (the parents of the Bat Mitzvah Lady) are wonderful people and I would actually choose to be related to them, if I had a choice, which is amazing. How many of those people do we get in this life? And I have another set of cousins on my mom's side, that I would choose. So that's Good.
I'm going to go now and soak up more California calm.
(We do not live in California. This is kind of a Big Trip.)
I cried at the Bat Mitzvah, which shocked me, because I have never cried at one before. A Bat Mitzvah involves lots of 12 & 13 year old girls running around and giggling and hiding in the bathroom and, in 2006, doing cell-phone related stuff...making calls and taking pictures and sending email and making Belgian waffles (okay, perhaps that last was a slight exaggeration. but only slight). However, as a person who is thinking as mindfully (not to say obsessively) about having children as I am, seeing the ritual of passing a tradition down through the generations actually brought up something in me that made tears run down my cheeks.
I am here with Co, as I said, and also with my father, and his wife, who is not my mother. I lost count (I was counting at first) of the number of times people assumed she was my mother. I've been letting it go because they're not people that I'm going to see again, so that's okay, and I don't want to create ugliness. (There's a Jewish Thing about Not Getting Divorced.) But She. Is. Not. My. Mom. We get along now, okay, but I repeat: Not. My. Mom.
But my father's first cousin and her husband (the parents of the Bat Mitzvah Lady) are wonderful people and I would actually choose to be related to them, if I had a choice, which is amazing. How many of those people do we get in this life? And I have another set of cousins on my mom's side, that I would choose. So that's Good.
I'm going to go now and soak up more California calm.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Lo's Shrink Explains It All & Digital Camera Advice
Some people have told me that my "wail" post was not very lucid.
A clearer point: I have become the metaphorical "black sheep" of my family. I think this is funny and weird, because I'm really not a very radical person...I am a teacher who owns property (well, it's a co-op, so I own a photocopy of a stock certificate). I am a lesbian, but in a liberal family that espouses, well, liberalism.
Nonetheless, I have become invisible to them; I hear a lot of comments about how my wedding is "just like a real wedding" and it is going to be "easy" for me to have a baby.
Um, no. On both counts. I won't go into it, because this is the place where you all Get It.
And the more I challenge them, the more they resent me.
You can imagine a cycle starts here....
Anyway, back to food blogging and how cute our dachshund is. Did I mention she's cute?
And in the interests of showing you pictures of both (food & dachshunds) we are teetering on the edge of the digital camera divide. Please recommend brands and models here. (My only requirements: on the cheap side [but not crappy] and I really, really, really need a viewfinder instead of just an LCD screen.)
A clearer point: I have become the metaphorical "black sheep" of my family. I think this is funny and weird, because I'm really not a very radical person...I am a teacher who owns property (well, it's a co-op, so I own a photocopy of a stock certificate). I am a lesbian, but in a liberal family that espouses, well, liberalism.
Nonetheless, I have become invisible to them; I hear a lot of comments about how my wedding is "just like a real wedding" and it is going to be "easy" for me to have a baby.
Um, no. On both counts. I won't go into it, because this is the place where you all Get It.
And the more I challenge them, the more they resent me.
You can imagine a cycle starts here....
Anyway, back to food blogging and how cute our dachshund is. Did I mention she's cute?
And in the interests of showing you pictures of both (food & dachshunds) we are teetering on the edge of the digital camera divide. Please recommend brands and models here. (My only requirements: on the cheap side [but not crappy] and I really, really, really need a viewfinder instead of just an LCD screen.)
Monday, April 17, 2006
A Wail
I tried to think of a better or more creative title for this post but opted for the simple truth.
We (me, Co, and the dachsie) went to my mother's house to celebrate Passover. She lives in a house I never lived in with her husband (she hasn't lived in my childhood home for years now and there have been a number of places, and partners, since....my dad's the one who left her, though).
The truth is I had three childhood homes that I remember (the fourth is the apartment I was born in, but I don't remember it, we only lived there until I was two) in three different states (and not all of them were in the Northeast!). My mother and sister now live in the last state where the family landed, but not in the same city where I lived for 8 years. My father lives in that same state as well, though not in the city where they raised us, and not near my mother and sister. I can actually feel my breath get shorter when we cross the border into that state. It is not a place I ever really liked, though I cannot deny its effect on my personality and growth and selfhood.
The details are long and complex and perhaps not even worth relating....the simple truth of the situation (from my perspective) is that she (and to some degree my younger sister, you know, the one who is pregnant) have an image of me that does not match my own image of myself. Their image of me is of someone with serious emotional problems, someone needy and angry and manipulative who must be "managed" at all times and who has a habit of "ruining" events with my unpredictability.
It's not how I see myself. My own memories involve hiding from my mother's inevitable rage (especially at holiday times) because no matter what I did, whether I was hiding in my room or helping by her side or doing cartwheels in the living room (I actually never learned how to do a cartwheel; it's a metaphor, if you know what I mean) she became enraged at me for ruining her holiday. I came to the conclusion early on that my existence has ruined a lot of things for her....but once I learned how babies were made, I knew whose fault that was!
She does not direct this kind of rage at my sister (nor did she until I left the house, but I didn't know that until many years later), probably because my sister was and is passive and small and blond and sweet and feminine and pretty. And now, pregnant. Though I was not fat as a child (despite what I thought at the time) I was always tall. This fact is funny to me now, because I am only about 5' 4" and am constantly asking students to get things off shelves for me, but I grew to my full height quickly. At the age of four people regularly thought I was six; at six, people thought I was eight; etc. etc. By 8th grade I was regularly taken for a college student. I still can't imagine how that worked since in my perception and in pictures I look like such a, well, 8th grader.
Really, this needs to be a photo-essay, so I can show what I mean; one of these days I'll scan the kiddie pix.
The point of this post being, I guess, that family dynamics die hard, and I hope I am the person I think I am, the grown-up who lives in the city I love (childhood home #2, as it happens, though not the actual house of course) and raises a dachshund with love and has a wife I love who loves me....a person with a career that matters, a congregation that matters, a real life where I am not ruined, not a ruiner.
That is all.
We (me, Co, and the dachsie) went to my mother's house to celebrate Passover. She lives in a house I never lived in with her husband (she hasn't lived in my childhood home for years now and there have been a number of places, and partners, since....my dad's the one who left her, though).
The truth is I had three childhood homes that I remember (the fourth is the apartment I was born in, but I don't remember it, we only lived there until I was two) in three different states (and not all of them were in the Northeast!). My mother and sister now live in the last state where the family landed, but not in the same city where I lived for 8 years. My father lives in that same state as well, though not in the city where they raised us, and not near my mother and sister. I can actually feel my breath get shorter when we cross the border into that state. It is not a place I ever really liked, though I cannot deny its effect on my personality and growth and selfhood.
The details are long and complex and perhaps not even worth relating....the simple truth of the situation (from my perspective) is that she (and to some degree my younger sister, you know, the one who is pregnant) have an image of me that does not match my own image of myself. Their image of me is of someone with serious emotional problems, someone needy and angry and manipulative who must be "managed" at all times and who has a habit of "ruining" events with my unpredictability.
It's not how I see myself. My own memories involve hiding from my mother's inevitable rage (especially at holiday times) because no matter what I did, whether I was hiding in my room or helping by her side or doing cartwheels in the living room (I actually never learned how to do a cartwheel; it's a metaphor, if you know what I mean) she became enraged at me for ruining her holiday. I came to the conclusion early on that my existence has ruined a lot of things for her....but once I learned how babies were made, I knew whose fault that was!
She does not direct this kind of rage at my sister (nor did she until I left the house, but I didn't know that until many years later), probably because my sister was and is passive and small and blond and sweet and feminine and pretty. And now, pregnant. Though I was not fat as a child (despite what I thought at the time) I was always tall. This fact is funny to me now, because I am only about 5' 4" and am constantly asking students to get things off shelves for me, but I grew to my full height quickly. At the age of four people regularly thought I was six; at six, people thought I was eight; etc. etc. By 8th grade I was regularly taken for a college student. I still can't imagine how that worked since in my perception and in pictures I look like such a, well, 8th grader.
Really, this needs to be a photo-essay, so I can show what I mean; one of these days I'll scan the kiddie pix.
The point of this post being, I guess, that family dynamics die hard, and I hope I am the person I think I am, the grown-up who lives in the city I love (childhood home #2, as it happens, though not the actual house of course) and raises a dachshund with love and has a wife I love who loves me....a person with a career that matters, a congregation that matters, a real life where I am not ruined, not a ruiner.
That is all.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Lo's Body Part
If I could take a picture (no digital camera yet), I'd take a picture of my eyes. They're a complicated body part for me because their color is so, well, difficult to ascertain. Depending on lighting and what I wear (which I imagine has to do with reflection of light) they can look blue, green, or grey.
My father says they are his father's eyes. (My father has blue eyes, my mother and sister have green eyes. I never met my grandfather -- I am named for him, actually -- and there are no close-up color photographs of him where I can see his eyes.)
My sister and I also both have the same rather odd feature: there's a thin circle of yellow flecks between the black pupil and the blue/green/grey iris.
All of these quirks could be beautiful, I suppose, in the hands of a writer or an artist. Yet I have always felt uncomfortable that it is so hard for me to answer the question "What color are your eyes?" Because I cannot answer the question without looking in a mirror to see how they appear that day, and that feels strange. I have taken a stab at the question and answered "blue" or "green," only to have the person squint at my face and correct me. "What color are your eyes?" should be an easy question. I did not know what to write for my driver's license (I believe it says "blue.")
I don't particularly care whether my eyes get passed on to the next generation. I'm fascinated by genetics, and I feel strongly that brown eyes are a more desirable trait than blue/green. I am more sensitive to sun than my brown-eyed friends. Also: my vision is nowhere near perfect (I'm nearsighted and have had glasses or contacts since I was nine years old). My eyes do not always do what they need to do, and they are confusing.
But Co once called them sunflowers, and that helped me love my strange eyes.
Someday when we do have a digital camera, I will post a picture.
My father says they are his father's eyes. (My father has blue eyes, my mother and sister have green eyes. I never met my grandfather -- I am named for him, actually -- and there are no close-up color photographs of him where I can see his eyes.)
My sister and I also both have the same rather odd feature: there's a thin circle of yellow flecks between the black pupil and the blue/green/grey iris.
All of these quirks could be beautiful, I suppose, in the hands of a writer or an artist. Yet I have always felt uncomfortable that it is so hard for me to answer the question "What color are your eyes?" Because I cannot answer the question without looking in a mirror to see how they appear that day, and that feels strange. I have taken a stab at the question and answered "blue" or "green," only to have the person squint at my face and correct me. "What color are your eyes?" should be an easy question. I did not know what to write for my driver's license (I believe it says "blue.")
I don't particularly care whether my eyes get passed on to the next generation. I'm fascinated by genetics, and I feel strongly that brown eyes are a more desirable trait than blue/green. I am more sensitive to sun than my brown-eyed friends. Also: my vision is nowhere near perfect (I'm nearsighted and have had glasses or contacts since I was nine years old). My eyes do not always do what they need to do, and they are confusing.
But Co once called them sunflowers, and that helped me love my strange eyes.
Someday when we do have a digital camera, I will post a picture.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Sperm Update
We have an official appointment with our sperm bank of choice, The Sperm Bank of California.
We feel quite solid about that choice, both of us being the research-decisions-to-death-with-multiple-sources sort of personality (is there a quiz for that??).
So now we're playing that waiting game, until our appointment on Friday, April 20. This reminds me of the holding pattern in which I swirled while we waited to meet with our PKD (who is now our FKD, where F means "failed"). At least we know this time that, in our capitalist society, if we can raise the funds, we can have the goods. There is no Wife, just a loving group of lesbian "midwives" at the bank o' sperm.
I am personally looking forward to the large amount of information/advice the sperm bank promises to provide...I'm officially done with my own research and ready to turn to the Experts who have made babies in this wacky way before. (Which is to say I'm starting to go in circles with myself, like Maggie chasing her tail. Which she actually rarely does.)
So. Once again, Now We Wait. (You know that I am not going to be real suave or peaceful about the whole TWW thing. I can already see myself climbing the walls. However, you'll all be pleased to know that that self I can stare at, climbing those warm buttery beige apartment walls, is not actually speaking to me. Because then I would need a paraprofessional like my pre-schizophrenic student.)
And on another note, do other people sometimes feel so biologically driven by this whole process that they reflect, deeply and daily, on the fact that we ARE animals?
We feel quite solid about that choice, both of us being the research-decisions-to-death-with-multiple-sources sort of personality (is there a quiz for that??).
So now we're playing that waiting game, until our appointment on Friday, April 20. This reminds me of the holding pattern in which I swirled while we waited to meet with our PKD (who is now our FKD, where F means "failed"). At least we know this time that, in our capitalist society, if we can raise the funds, we can have the goods. There is no Wife, just a loving group of lesbian "midwives" at the bank o' sperm.
I am personally looking forward to the large amount of information/advice the sperm bank promises to provide...I'm officially done with my own research and ready to turn to the Experts who have made babies in this wacky way before. (Which is to say I'm starting to go in circles with myself, like Maggie chasing her tail. Which she actually rarely does.)
So. Once again, Now We Wait. (You know that I am not going to be real suave or peaceful about the whole TWW thing. I can already see myself climbing the walls. However, you'll all be pleased to know that that self I can stare at, climbing those warm buttery beige apartment walls, is not actually speaking to me. Because then I would need a paraprofessional like my pre-schizophrenic student.)
And on another note, do other people sometimes feel so biologically driven by this whole process that they reflect, deeply and daily, on the fact that we ARE animals?
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Edit/Update
Indeed, as several commenters correctly surmised, I am very happy for my sister and my whole family that the first of the next generation is growing. There's really no one in my life I'm as close to as my sister in the way that I am close to her.
It's just that...I'm the oldest. And I want this. I want this so, so so so badly. (Well, you all know. You all are the people who know!!!) And for a while there, the way things were going, it looked like I might get to have the first grandchild (Lord knows I didn't get the first marriage...my sister married [religiously & legally] a few years before I did and since I live in the U.S. I am still not legally married). And that kind of felt good to me, you know? Having the first grandchild, even though it's so hard for us to do.
But that's not how it's going to be. I'm going to be the Late Blooming Lesbian YET AGAIN. Maybe I'll change my cute little pseudonym from LO to LBL since those appear to be my real initials.
(I'm getting used to this new turn of events, I'm not as down as I might sound in this post. It's just that sometimes I get tired of all the drama/detritus that comes with being queer. 'Cause if we weren't, we'd have been first.)
It's just that...I'm the oldest. And I want this. I want this so, so so so badly. (Well, you all know. You all are the people who know!!!) And for a while there, the way things were going, it looked like I might get to have the first grandchild (Lord knows I didn't get the first marriage...my sister married [religiously & legally] a few years before I did and since I live in the U.S. I am still not legally married). And that kind of felt good to me, you know? Having the first grandchild, even though it's so hard for us to do.
But that's not how it's going to be. I'm going to be the Late Blooming Lesbian YET AGAIN. Maybe I'll change my cute little pseudonym from LO to LBL since those appear to be my real initials.
(I'm getting used to this new turn of events, I'm not as down as I might sound in this post. It's just that sometimes I get tired of all the drama/detritus that comes with being queer. 'Cause if we weren't, we'd have been first.)
Sunday, March 26, 2006
My Little Sister Is Pregnant
...and we're not.
In the immortal words of Langston Hughes, "There's nothing more to say."
And I am a bad, bad person because I feel anything but pure joy.
Thanks for being there, people, 'cause if you weren't, I'd be all alone with my shrink! And my darling Co.
In the immortal words of Langston Hughes, "There's nothing more to say."
And I am a bad, bad person because I feel anything but pure joy.
Thanks for being there, people, 'cause if you weren't, I'd be all alone with my shrink! And my darling Co.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Photo Friday: Lo's Spring
Here's the portent I look for to show me spring has arrived in the Northeast.
Because I am Jewish, I never received these delightful items in baskets for free; I saved my allowance and started buying them as soon as CVS, Woolworth's, and the other candy emporiums of my childhood started putting them out on the counter. Since a lot of that childhood was spent in New England, the availability of the Cadbury creme egg usually occurred significantly before the weather actually got warm. Hence: for me, seeing those eggs on the counter will always make my heart lift. Spring is coming! It is, it is!
If it were up to me, I'd put a Cadbury creme egg on the seder plate. Maybe someday I will.
Edit: It is my passionate interest in comparative religion that makes me joke about this tacky replacement. I would only do it in appreciative company. Also, Passover/Pesach is by far my favorite holiday (American or Jewish) and part and parcel of my joyous reaction to Spring & its Cadbury creme egg harbinger.
Monday, March 13, 2006
No Sperm For You!
So PKD said no.
It was a qualified no -- his partner wasn't so comfortable and we have the sense he is interested but if one's partner is uncomfortable, well, that does make it hard. So that's that. I guess I can't exactly blame the other party for hogging the sperm. Well. That there is a lie. I can, and I do, and I am, but I am trying to get over it.
This means we will need to use a Sperm Bank. If anyone has any positive suggestions, we sure would like to hear them. I know Charlotte had a good meeting at the Sperm Bank of California. Anyone know anything about Pacific Reproductive Services?
I was so excited. We were going to redefine family. We were going to have a baby with a cool guy. And it turns out we're not doing any of those cool things. We're just going to buy some sperm. I am trying not to feel like the biggest loser in the world.
It was a qualified no -- his partner wasn't so comfortable and we have the sense he is interested but if one's partner is uncomfortable, well, that does make it hard. So that's that. I guess I can't exactly blame the other party for hogging the sperm. Well. That there is a lie. I can, and I do, and I am, but I am trying to get over it.
This means we will need to use a Sperm Bank. If anyone has any positive suggestions, we sure would like to hear them. I know Charlotte had a good meeting at the Sperm Bank of California. Anyone know anything about Pacific Reproductive Services?
I was so excited. We were going to redefine family. We were going to have a baby with a cool guy. And it turns out we're not doing any of those cool things. We're just going to buy some sperm. I am trying not to feel like the biggest loser in the world.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Lo's Favorite Button
(I come from a family of political button collectors. My grandfather did it, my parents did it separately and together, and I have two bags of them in my bottom dresser drawer. No, I haven't found a good way to display them in my small apartment.)
I have a lot of ones I love [no nukes/no cows!], but I do think this one's my favorite:
Choice in Everything.
(I know life's never that simple, but still....)
P.S. We sent a letter to PKD. Well, Co calls it a letter, I call it a short email reminder. But hopefully we'll hear from him soon.
I have a lot of ones I love [no nukes/no cows!], but I do think this one's my favorite:
Choice in Everything.
(I know life's never that simple, but still....)
P.S. We sent a letter to PKD. Well, Co calls it a letter, I call it a short email reminder. But hopefully we'll hear from him soon.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
A Meme
I got this meme from BB and Sarah and from Calliope. I love it that the term "meme" comes from genetics (as I understand it, it's a segment of DNA that replicates itself). Cool metaphor.
Four non-teaching jobs I've had:
1. Worked in the back offices at a bank.
2. Cashier at an "au bon pain."
3. Temporary admin assistant for the Security (no, not securities) dept. at a major stock company, offices were at 2 World Trade Centre (don't worry it was in 1998).
4. Curatorial assistant at a museum devoted to broadcasting (I helped with the soap opera exhibit. I've seen episodes of One Life to Live from before I was born).
Four Authors, Books, or Series I read over and over:
1. Cheaper by the Dozen & Belles on Their Toes by the Gilbreths (Frank B. Gilbreth Jr. & Ernestine Gilbreth Carey)
2. The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot
3. Harry Potter
4. The Westing Game (I teach it. I love it, though, that's why I teach it)
Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. Meet Me In St. Louis
2. Georgy Girl
3. In a Child's Name (LIfetime, 4 hrs, my sister affectionately calls it "the glowing blood movie")
4. The Wizard of Oz
Four TV shows I love(d):
1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
2. Degrassi...Junior High, HIgh, Next Generation
3. You Can't Do That on Television
4. Law & Order (I also like Special Victims Unit, but *not* Criminal Intent or Trial by Jury!! I will be trying out "Conviction" tomorrow night.)
Four places I've lived:
1. Chicago, Illinois
2. Montreal, Quebec, Canada
3. Swarthmore, Pennsylvania
4. Brookline, MA
Four places to vacation:
1. Jersey Shore
2. Cape Cod
3. Montreal & Laurentides
4. Walt Disney World (I really do love Disney World. It is against everything that is good and right that I love it, but I can't help myself).
Four sites I visit/use daily:
1. Blogger blogs
2. Livejournal
3. Google
4. myspace to spy on the kids (kidding!!!!)
Four people I'd like to meet in person, based on their blogs:
(I found this a bit hard)
All of you!!
Four foods I yearn for:
1. Chocolate. In pretty much any form, except "white," which lacks, oh I don't know, cocoa.
2. Co's chicken & dumplings. Mmmmmm.
3. Dill pickle chips & all-dressed chips (Canada has better flavors of potato chips than the States. I made a list once.)
4. Co's homemade brownies (I know, I know, falls under chocolate)
Four inventions I'm grateful for:
1. The Internet
2. Radio
3. As Calliope said....anything that helps me get sperm, plan sperm, etc.
4. Anything by Macintosh. ;-)
Four musical choices for my personal soundtrack:
1. Holly Near
2. Rodgers & Hammerstein musicals (if you didn't yet know I was a cheeseball, here is your proof...)
3. Buffy the Vampire Slayer soundtracks including the musical episode (yes, we own these)
4. Coldplay
Four nouns that describe me: (I've enlisted Co's help)
1. Organizer
2. Jew (yet my passport says American!)
3. dachshundmommy
4. 12-year-old (in a 31 year old's body)
Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:
Anyone. Everyone.
Four non-teaching jobs I've had:
1. Worked in the back offices at a bank.
2. Cashier at an "au bon pain."
3. Temporary admin assistant for the Security (no, not securities) dept. at a major stock company, offices were at 2 World Trade Centre (don't worry it was in 1998).
4. Curatorial assistant at a museum devoted to broadcasting (I helped with the soap opera exhibit. I've seen episodes of One Life to Live from before I was born).
Four Authors, Books, or Series I read over and over:
1. Cheaper by the Dozen & Belles on Their Toes by the Gilbreths (Frank B. Gilbreth Jr. & Ernestine Gilbreth Carey)
2. The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot
3. Harry Potter
4. The Westing Game (I teach it. I love it, though, that's why I teach it)
Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. Meet Me In St. Louis
2. Georgy Girl
3. In a Child's Name (LIfetime, 4 hrs, my sister affectionately calls it "the glowing blood movie")
4. The Wizard of Oz
Four TV shows I love(d):
1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
2. Degrassi...Junior High, HIgh, Next Generation
3. You Can't Do That on Television
4. Law & Order (I also like Special Victims Unit, but *not* Criminal Intent or Trial by Jury!! I will be trying out "Conviction" tomorrow night.)
Four places I've lived:
1. Chicago, Illinois
2. Montreal, Quebec, Canada
3. Swarthmore, Pennsylvania
4. Brookline, MA
Four places to vacation:
1. Jersey Shore
2. Cape Cod
3. Montreal & Laurentides
4. Walt Disney World (I really do love Disney World. It is against everything that is good and right that I love it, but I can't help myself).
Four sites I visit/use daily:
1. Blogger blogs
2. Livejournal
3. Google
4. myspace to spy on the kids (kidding!!!!)
Four people I'd like to meet in person, based on their blogs:
(I found this a bit hard)
All of you!!
Four foods I yearn for:
1. Chocolate. In pretty much any form, except "white," which lacks, oh I don't know, cocoa.
2. Co's chicken & dumplings. Mmmmmm.
3. Dill pickle chips & all-dressed chips (Canada has better flavors of potato chips than the States. I made a list once.)
4. Co's homemade brownies (I know, I know, falls under chocolate)
Four inventions I'm grateful for:
1. The Internet
2. Radio
3. As Calliope said....anything that helps me get sperm, plan sperm, etc.
4. Anything by Macintosh. ;-)
Four musical choices for my personal soundtrack:
1. Holly Near
2. Rodgers & Hammerstein musicals (if you didn't yet know I was a cheeseball, here is your proof...)
3. Buffy the Vampire Slayer soundtracks including the musical episode (yes, we own these)
4. Coldplay
Four nouns that describe me: (I've enlisted Co's help)
1. Organizer
2. Jew (yet my passport says American!)
3. dachshundmommy
4. 12-year-old (in a 31 year old's body)
Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:
Anyone. Everyone.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Lo Learns Code
Learn, Lo, Learn.
Co had to calm me through it, though I mostly picked it out myself. (Please note Co's other blog, in case this surprises you even remotely.)
On the other hand, it was my passionate desire to create the fancy new (okay, anal retentive new) categorization system that brought me to the point where I actually asked of my own volition what "ul" means.
One of these days I might even be able to communicate with 12-year-olds. (However, I will never set up a myspace. Never. Never. Never. Never. Though I must add that, if any of you have been following the myspace drama in the news, the word on the street from my local 12-year-old users is that it is "so over." Okay. Works for me.)
Co had to calm me through it, though I mostly picked it out myself. (Please note Co's other blog, in case this surprises you even remotely.)
On the other hand, it was my passionate desire to create the fancy new (okay, anal retentive new) categorization system that brought me to the point where I actually asked of my own volition what "ul" means.
One of these days I might even be able to communicate with 12-year-olds. (However, I will never set up a myspace. Never. Never. Never. Never. Though I must add that, if any of you have been following the myspace drama in the news, the word on the street from my local 12-year-old users is that it is "so over." Okay. Works for me.)
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