Busy busy

I'm supposed to be writing a paper right now.  A paper that describes my best learning style and analyzes it in 1000 words.  In APA format.  Incidentally the best way for me to describe my learning style is NOT anywhere on this blog, but my learning style DOES involve procrastination so here we are.  I'll just think of it as a warm-up of sorts, even though writing on here may be counterproductive because in APA format I can't doublespace after punctuation, must reference everything, can't use any pronouns that refer to myself and have to use a bunch of extra commas where I think my sixth grade teacher taught me they don't belong.  (Did I not mention that I'm back in school?  Well I am.  Because doing in vitro is just not enough stress in my life MUST ADD MORE.)  This online RN-BSN program also involves a bunch of group projects, one every five weeks in fact, and these may just drive me to justifiable homicide.  There are three types of people in the online group project.  The one that wants to take charge and boss everyone around (you thought that would be me, didn't you?  Shockingly, it is not) without regard to anybody else's life schedules and when everyone else doesn't respond to their emails within two hours they freak out, do the whole project on their own even though it's not due for FIVE weeks, and give you all a guilt trip about it.  Then there's the stupid/lazy one.  The one who won't read the syllabus to see what the project is about and how to go about doing it and sends out thousands of panicky emails (at the last minute) saying that they didn't understand any of it, maybe everyone else can do it?  Then there's me.  I try to gently put forth that SOMEONE should read the syllabus, and that SOMEONE should effing calm down because the project's not due for over a month and there are those of us that are juggling working nights, a sixth grader's homework, strep throat, insomnia, a husband in Kentucky for two weeks, spending quality time with the kid and a thousand word paper on how I learn AND I NEED MORE THAN TEN MINUTES TO RESPOND TO YOUR DAMN EMAIL.  The hard part about doing group projects online is that you can't just reach over and smack your classmate.

You're here because you're wondering how I feel, right?

Pictures of other things that I've done this week to avoid writing my paper or dealing with my stupid classmates:

Oh you sneaky, sneaky garden.  I go to check up on you and find you've been quite productive without telling me.

Our yearly trip to the Scottsdale Arabian Horse Show.

These animals poop money.

My smart/funny/beautiful kid:

Ok, quick story before I sign out here.  We're watching the opening scene of Lion King last night where all the animals bow to baby Simba as he's lifted up by the monkey.  Emma snorts:  "Yeah, right, that's the thing about Disney movies.  If this were real life all of those animals would eat each other right then and there."  Don't think we'll have to worry about this kid ever thinking she's an entitled little Disney princess or will magically live happy ever after as soon as she gets married.

What we've been up to

We're shrinking!  At the beginning of the year (hooray for New Year's resolutions and too-tight pants) we decided we've been feeling a little fluffy lately.  So Chad got a Paleo diet book and started that.  I joined Weight Watchers, determined to get rid of this "baby weight" since my kid is almost twelve years old.  Chad swore that he LOVED the Paleo diet!  So much meat!  Eight pounds down in a week!  And then he got tired of having to make himself special meals every night, since I, being the supportive diet wife that I am, adamantly refused to play Sous Chef for both my practically-vegan daughter and for him.  Now he is on Weight Watchers with me and we're both down ten pounds.  To celebrate we took a road trip to Tortilla Flats today and ate at a nasty hole-in-the-wall diner.  We enjoyed every minute of it.  We may have to rethink our reward system.

And now that I'm down a pant size I'm going to try to go up a few sizes.  Because the time has finally come, peoples. The thing we've been talking about forEVER is finally going to happen. 

Here's the deal.  I'll write this all down so you don't have to ask.  Because I know you're wondering, and I'm the sharing type.  Chad has a blockage that prevents his little swimmers from escaping.  They basically just swim around in little circles in there.  So they will surgically cut them out of him and individually inject each sperm into the eggs they will harvest from me, after I get done injecting myself with three different drugs two times a day for a few weeks.  They will put these "embryos" in a petri dish to grow for a few days and then transfer them into my uterus after I inject myself with a bunch of additional hormones so that my body will be tricked into accepting the embryos.  Will Chad kill me for telling this all to the Internet?  Maybe.  But it's not like it's his fault.  It's just something that happened when he was a kid and there's no amount of praying or hoping that will make us a baby.  Seriously, the next person who says, "Well, you never know!  Maybe you should just stop trying!  God works in mysterious ways.  We have this friend....."  is going to get a fundal punch.  We do know.  We have stopped trying for seven years.  You can't make a baby without sperm.  I understand that those people just don't know what to say and are just trying to make me feel better, but these kinds of things do not make me feel better.  They only frustrate me.  All I need is someone to cry to when I watch everyone around me have babies.  Or just a hug.  (Or hey, how about a few thousand dollars?)  I will even take the prayers (despite my atheist leanings) as long as they are for the in-vitro to work this time.  We're going to need every bit of positive vibe/prayer/voodoo magic we can get.  I won't be choosy, please send it our way.  As long as you aren't worried about a little Chad/Corinne cross loose in the world.  A klutzy, homicidal, mouthy little asshole that we can call our own.  Awwwww.

I know I've been talking about this for a few years, but we've had a few roadblocks.  A deployment to a war zone.  A running-binge-induced foot surgery for me.  A few moves.

But we're DOING IT.

I signed up for benefits at work because they cover $5000 toward the procedure.  We've finally been informed that the army has placed his reenlistment bonus for payment in the next month.  (We've been waiting for a YEAR for it, geeeeez.  And yes, he re-signed.  The guy is Army Man.  I've come to terms with it.)  We've talked to the new doctor's office about the costs.  (About $13,000 with meds.) I've decided that I will live with my busted foot for now because I am sick of this getting sidetracked.  (Limping is fun.)  So as soon as Chad is back home from his next army school (this month) we're giving it our last and final shot.  The last time we did this it was stressful and scary and expensive and I was in the middle of taking my nursing license exam and we didn't know what to expect.  And even though it will still be terrifying this time I feel like we have a better idea of what we are facing.  I've got a stable job, Chad has a stable job.  It will still be pricey and we are not rich, but if all the crackheads out there can have babies so can we.  We're good parents.  Emma is a happy kid, if a tad spoiled.  We deserve to have the chance to have a baby, just like everyone else.  So here we go again!

I'm planning on walking through this with you, Internet.  It might suck.  But it might be completely awesome in the end.