Here’s our “pretty” pose. Nice smile, Maddie. Really sincere.

RAWR!

Check out our muscles!

Obligatory belly shot.

My two favorite people in the whole world.

RAWR!

More muscles.

Favorite present EVAR.

Gerald’s recovering really well from his surgery. He went back to work today, as a matter of fact. He’s handling the extreme lifestyle changes so much better than I did. He hasn’t cried ONCE, people. He’s been pissy as all get-out, but not weepy or pathetic. He’s also already lost the same amount of weight in two weeks that I lost in the first month. I’m not sure whose idea it was that men should lose weight so easily, but I’d like to punch them in the ‘nads.

We took Maddie to get a haircut yesterday. She’s got very thin, fine, soft hair and I can’t keep it out of her face. I’ve tried every ponytail holder known to mankind and they all slide out in a matter of minutes. So, we decided to get a chin-length bob. She lost about six inches of hair and aged two years. I swear she looks like a little kid now. My little baby is all gone.

Lest you get the “wrong idea,” let me ‘splain: Gerald was 100% opposed to The Clomid re: O: SK. Last time around I was on Clomid, Estrogen and Progesterone. That’s a potent combination of hormones, my friends. I was a raving bitch one minute and sobbing uncontrollably the next. It’s a miracle we were ever able to, ahem, you know. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to “rise to the occasion” had I been the husband. In addition, Gerald’s never been fully convinced of the fact that I needed pharmaceutical help in order to conceive. When we were trying to get pregnant with Maddie, the OB I was going to was a little…shady off-putting and Gerald decided he didn’t know his ass from his elbow. Luckily for us, as soon as I conceived, he retired and I found the most wonderful OB, Dr. G.

Dr. G. did some blood work on me a few months ago and said things looked ok as far as ovulation was concerned that month. We were both hoping that my PCOS would reverse itself with my massive weight loss. Then, a couple months later, my period was 10 days early. (Remember, my cycle is only 24 days long to begin with. 10 days is almost half.) He did some more blood work and determined that I didn’t ovulate at all that month. He was concerned with the length of my cycle in addition to the lack of ovulation. He suggested a low dose of Clomid just to help things along. I reported all this to Gerald, but we again agreed to just let God be in charge.

We tried this month and not only did I not get pregnant, I started my period five days early and failed to ovulated yet again. At this point, I felt like we needed to make a final decision on O: SK. Did we want to get pregnant or not? Because if we did, then it wasn’t going to happen on it’s own very quickly, or maybe never. There was no way I could deal with Teh Crazy every month for who knows how long, or worry about Gerald deciding we were done trying since it was all one big FAIL. I didn’t want trying to conceive to be a drudgery or result in fights and hurt feelings. I was ready to throw in the towel if Gerald said no to the Clomid again.

After a lengthy (and totally calm) discussion, Gerald said that even though he was opposed to me taking any kind of fertility drugs, he knows how badly how I want another child and the easiest way for that to happen is to take Clomid. He still doesn’t like the idea, but is willing to compromise to make me happy. Yes, I’m aware that he’s a Keeper.

This time, I’m only taking Clomid for five days. Nothing else. After two doses, I feel great. No desire to stab someone in their fucking eyeball or cry over how my hair won’t lay right. At this point, my only worry is whether or not my husband will have recovered from his surgery enough to, well, you know, in two weeks.

2. I took my first dose of Clomid this morning.*

*Gerald would appreciate your prayers/good vibes/happy thoughts much more for this than for his surgery.

Of course, a big shout out to my geeky man. Thank you for all your help, babe. Just one more thing… which key is “enter?”

I try my best to make sure you feel loved and appreciated every day, but since it’s Father’s Day, I’ll exert a little extra effort. But you owe me.

Thank you for working so tirelessly for the last two years to make sure our family has the kind of life that we do. Thank you for missing all those trips to the zoo or to the park because you had to work. Thank you for sacrificing time with us now so that we’ll have much more time together in the future.

Thank you for being a strong and loving father to Maddie. Thank you for playing “blast off!” and for trying in vain to give her pretty hairstyles and for reading Green Eggs and Ham and for singing Old MacDonald countless times. Thank you for playing Tea Party and drinking tea from tiny pink cups. Thank you for making sure Maddie knows how much you love her each and every day.

Gerald, you are a wonderful father and husband. Let’s have more babies. OK? OK!

I’m going back to work full-time in the next couple of weeks. No, it’s not because Maddie’s douchbaggery has reached Critical Mass or anything like that. Honestly, I was extremely happy with our previous part-time situation. I loved what I was doing at work and the opportunity to have an identity outside of Maddie’s Mom AND the ability to spend four full days a week with her. It was the best of both worlds. For me and Maddie, that is. For Gerald? Not so much.

See, in order for me to work half a job, Gerald works two. And he’s also working very hard on a project that will enable us to be in business for ourselves. His stress level has reached Critical Mass and something’s got to give. So, for us, that means that he’ll give up on of his jobs and I’ll go back full-time. This isn’t ideal and isn’t what we want for our family in the long term. But it’s time to suck it up, buttercup. We’re all sacrificing now so that we can achieve our goals. (I figure if I keep telling myself this stuff it’ll sink in eventually. In the meantime, I’m wallowing in self-pity and learning new and exciting ways to sigh laboriously as if the weight of the entire world is upon my shoulders. I’m kind of a drama queen that way.)

In other news, Maddie’s going to be the flower girl in my step-sister’s wedding tomorrow evening. I’ll be sure to bombard you with photos of my girl in her beautiful dress doing all sorts of inappropriate things. She’s supposed to walk down the aisle strewing silk rose petals out of a basket. Any bets on what she actually does? I’m betting on there being running and possibly a loud comment about “boobies!” or “pooping!” It’ll be memorable, that’s for sure.

Love

Hubby

P.S. It’s her 21st.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

* As in wrote it, played the music and sang it. Dude’s got talent.
** Like your husbands.