“Want do it by yourself!” 

Okay, so maybe she hasn’t mastered personal pronouns, but the girl sure knows what she wants. She is fiercely, stubbornly independent. In the grocery store (Want hold basket by yourself!), coming home from the park (Want push it [the stroller] by yourself!), brushing her teeth (Can Mommy help you? No! Do it by yourself!). There’s no reasoning with her. Usually I just have to let her try until she gets frustrated and asks for help. Which can take a surprisingly long time. If only I could help her harness these powers for good…”Hey, bug, can Mommy help you vacuum/wash the dishes/scrub the toilet?” “No! Do it by yourself!” Ha ha ha.


Last Tuesday, I spent the majority of the evening stressed out over an email exchange with the embryologist at our old RE’s office. It went something like this:

Embryologist: So, I really need to send some test results to your new clinic, but I can’t find them. Do you happen to have a copy?

Me: Uh, no. Are they not in the chart? Or can you check with XYZ Labs?

E: Yeah, well, that’s the thing. I don’t have your chart, and Dr. C doesn’t have your chart. I tried contacting Dr. T’s office [Dr. C’s former partner], but no luck there, either. Maybe you’d have better luck if you contacted them yourself?

So I spent a few minutes fuming, indignant that they’d somehow lost my chart while moving offices. Then I calculated the time difference and used Skype to call Dr. T’s office.

Me: Hi, I’m a former patient of Dr. C’s. We’re trying to transport our embryos to Wales, but they need a test result that they can’t seem to find, and they thought maybe it was in a copy of my chart at your office?

Receptionist: We don’t have any of Dr. C’s patient charts.

Me: Oh. Well there was some mention of a storage facility. Any chance it’s there?

R: None of Dr. C’s charts are in our storage. Let me just check to make sure you were actually Dr. C’s patient. (tap tap tappity tap) Yeah, no. We don’t have your chart.

Yeah. So, more silent cursing, and then a call to Dr. C’s office.

Me: Hi. I’m a former patient of Dr. C’s…blah blah blah…transporting embryos…blah blah blah….There seems to be some confusion about the location of my chart…?

Super-efficient receptionist: Let me just check to see whether it’s here in the office or in storage. (tappity tap tap) Yes, it’s here. I’ll just pull it and get it to the embryologist.

Not five minutes later, I get an email.

Embryologist: A miracle has happened! Someone just brought me your chart. What?!

Me: Yeah, I just called to make sure it was there. I hope you find what you need.

E: I still can’t even believe your chart just appeared out of thin air! I’ll send these results right away.

What’s that saying about wanting something done right? Yeah, even from effing Wales, apparently.


On a brighter note, our play date with K and E was awesome. I had hoped to bring them gifts (for both E and her soon-to-be baby sister), but by the time I figured out just what that would be, I ran out of time to finish before that Sunday afternoon. 

Since I had recently found out they were having another girl, I wasn’t sure exactly what they’d need. Surely they’d have clothes and things, and they use cloth diapers, so they wouldn’t need those, either. Then I thought of making them something myself. I remembered seeing a pattern for a bunny made from a simple knit square (just google it and you’ll find a million how-to’s). I decided to make a bigger one for E and a smaller one for the baby. I even managed to put a rattle inside. I’m so stoked to give them to K and E next time we see them!


I started this post well before last Friday’s sad news, but guess what? I’ve been solo parenting all week again. I’m not exactly resentful of my husband for leaving (this time–not so the multiple other times over the summer he was gone for days at a time to attend one conference or another). It’s not so different from what I do all day while he’s at work, anyway. And it’s not too bad–except when it is. Like when my daughter is screaming and desperately trying to buck herself out of the stroller while I’m pushing it uphill through the middle of town just to get us to the park so she can run around a while–which you’d think she’d be happy about! Or when she’s exhausted but refuses to stay in bed and makes increasingly ridiculous requests demands, like that she has to have the tissue with the puppies on it and only the penguin hand puppet is allowed to wipe her nose. Or when it’s been raining for two days straight and we’re both going crazy and getting a little sick of being cooped up together, and Mommy resorts to googling kids dance videos just to get her moving.

Only two more days to go….

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