When I suggest people try online infertility support groups, I’m sometimes met with: “Why would I want to tell my personal infertility business to total strangers?” That’s it. That’s exactly why you want to go onto online infertility support groups: Because everyone is a total stranger.
If you read part 1, you know that school started for my kids three weeks ago and that thus far their “regular”school bus driver was present and accounted for precisely five of those fifteen school days, having taken a smattering of days off, culminating in a full blown week-long scheduled vacation. This leaves me wondering whether announcing that she was our “regular” school bus driver wasn’t referring to her bowel habits and not her work habits.
So today she was back from her vacation. Well, maybe she was. She didn’t come back to work though. Is she coming back or isn’t she? Did she flee to destinations unknown? I have no idea if school bus drivers have many advancement opportunities but I didn’t think they had any embezzlement opportunities.
Meanwhile in her absence, my kids’ bus route has had various revolving school bus drivers.
In my newest little eBook, I have a chapter called:
“The School Bus Situation: Because every year there is indeed ‘a school bus situation’.” This is no exaggeration. My triplets are just starting sixth grade. The first week of school is always that adjustment period. Teachers are getting to know the kids. Kids are getting to know the teachers. Where do we sit? What time is lunch? Now that they’re in middle school there’s even more to get used to: Where’s my locker? How do I get to my next class? What time does the bell ring? And this period of adjustment extends to the bus drivers. Where’s the stop? Who’s at the bus stop? What’s the bus route? The only difference is: By the end of the first two weeks, teachers and kids have pretty much settled in… and “the school bus situation” is just getting revved up.
Not only don’t I think all nurses are created equal, I don’t think all nurses’ jobs are created equal. Even if I could pass all of the medical, scientific stuff (which is highly unlikely), I’d fail miserably at the “bedside manner” stuff. Maybe I could slide by as an emergency room nurse where you see the person, then they leave. Or at a doctor’s office where you take blood pressure and temperature, ship them off to the doctor, then they leave. But never an IVF nurse. You take their blood and they leave. Then a few days later they come back. Then a few days later, they come back. Then a few days later, they come back. You’ve surely heard the expression: “Familiarity breeds contempt”. I can’t think of a place that contempt would breed faster for me than at a fertility clinic. I was a fertility clinic patient for a year. I would have no patience for those patients. It was hard enough to be me, now I’d have to deal with me?
The first day of middle school, the triplets were asked to stand up and tell a little about themselves. My daughter got up there: “My name is Carly Fox. I’m a triplet. I hate being a triplet.” She was heading back to her seat when she turned around. “Oh, and I also hate my last name.”
Way to go on the positive self-talk, Carly. I looked up the number for the school psychologist and added it to my phone contacts so I’d know it when it came up.
My triplets already started middle school this week. I know every parent would be tempted to follow that statement with: “My babies are getting so big!” Or… “Where does the time go?” but I’m not surprised that my kids just turned eleven or already graduated from elementary school. This middle school thing is just another blur to me which is a small part of a much bigger blur that began somewhere around 2005 when I first got pregnant.
The night before school started– middle school eve, erev middle school– each of my kids prepped for the big first day in his or her own inimitable style:
Messy kids. I have three of them and I might know why. I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m not a tidy person. I don’t like to look around and see things in disarray. I don’t like an unmade bed or dirt, filth, or grime, but I’m naturally a messy person. People who are messy like to say: “I’m messy, but not dirty. There’s a difference.” I agree. There is a difference, and I’m both.
I’ve been married to my husband for 13 1/2 years and I have no idea if he’s messy or not. It’s because no matter how messy he might be, I’ll always out-mess him. He always cracks before I do. If there are dishes in the sink or a pile of newspapers on the counter, he can’t take it before I can’t take it. My “can’t take it anymore” threshold is disturbingly high for mess. So this is the example I’m setting for my triplets.
I’ve been observing them for eleven years now. What I’ve witnessed is perfectly natural. I just haven’t decided whether they’re naturally messy kids or naturally lazy kids.
What is an infertility graduate? Well, an infertility graduate is like any other graduate, the main difference being that any other graduate isn’t accustomed to wearing a gown that leaves your bare ass hanging out like an infertility graduate is.
Not everyone of course who is done with infertility and treatments considers themselves an infertility graduate. People tend to stop treatments for one of two main reasons:
Esta es mi historia (abreviada–por favor– es un blog no una telenovela)… Yo era una comediante de 38 años viviendo en Nueva York. No tenía esposo ni hijos. (De hecho la única cosa que tengo ahora que tuve entonces fue cuentas… Sí Sí eso no ha cambiado.) En Diciembre, fui a una fiesta gay para celebrar la fiesta judía de Janucá y me encontré mi esposo futuro. (¿Tú también? ¡No me digas!) El tenia exactamente 9 días más que yo y, como yo, ha tenido soltero por toda la vida sin hijos. Entonces vino la prisa. No quería tener un problema embarazarme a causa de mi edad. También, la mayoría de los parientes que quisimos invitar a la boda ya tenían 80+ años. (Podríamos haber ahorrado mucho dinero en invitaciones y comida si habíamos esperado 5 años.) Nos comprometimos en Julio, nos casamos en Octubre, y tratamos de comenzar nuestra familia diez minutos después de la ceremonia. Y un año más tarde, todavía estábamos tratando comenzar una.
Por fin, nos dimos cuenta de que probablemente necesitamos un poquito de ayuda… o quizás más que poquita.
Back-to-School time always sneaks up on me. If you’ve read previous posts, you’ll know that I’m typically between two weeks and eight years behind on everything. And this “policy” of mine, for lack of a better term, doesn’t discriminate: It applies equally to doing the laundry as it does to filling out camp registration forms to putting sunscreen on my children. But this year, turning around and finding that back-to-school time has sneaked up on me and smacked me in the ass isn’t really just because of my “policy”. Do they have year-round schools where you live? I’ve never quite gotten the hang of those. And I’d better get the hang soon… because my kids will be starting one in two weeks.