Off hold and onto the fence

We don't know what we're doing now.
We're in limbo - to try this month or not to try? If we try, I'll have to push my MRI to the end of the month (and cancel it if I get pregnant). If I get pregnant this month, we'll have yet another November baby in our family - but do we care? I just don't know anymore.

My damn period is still here, so we have some time to decide, but not much.

In other news, my mom's coming up to visit this weekend and I'm actually looking forward to it. I've hardly seen her since Christmas, so it'll be nice to spend some time together. I'm sure I'll change my mind when she's at our place from Friday until Sunday (one day too long, as always) but for today, I'm optimistic.

Work is absolutely mental. I'm trying to prepare the All-Employee Meeting, and I don't know how I'm supposed to get it all done - I could probably work from now until Monday morning with no breaks, and then maybe I'd be ready for next week. Maybe. I may or may not have a nervous breakdown, but at least I know that when February's over, it'll get back to normal again.

9DPO... and a big temp drop

Well, I made it through day 8 with no cramping or spotting, which is when I got it last month. I'm on day 9 today, and had a big temp drop this morning, which could mean two things: I'm getting my period today / tomorrow, or a fertilized egg is making itself at home in my uterus. I'm betting on scenario 1, but we shall see. I'll take my stupid thermometer to London to temp tomorrow, just to see if it goes back up, but I don't think I'll temp over the holidays otherwise. I don't like the idea of getting up at 6 a.m. on vacation. I don't mind it tomorrow, because I'll be waking up early to fill my mom's stocking anyway. But after that, screw BBT!

So I'm crossing my fingers that I don't get crampy today and I go at least one more day without my period. If I can just get to 10 DPO, I'll know my body could sustain a pregnancy, if I'm lucky enough :)

On a non-pregnancy related note, it's Christmas Eve! Holy crap, when did that happen? It really snuck up on me this year. I just finally started feeling Christmasy on Monday, which is abnormal for me. I think it's because N and I have been really busy and stressed with work, looking at houses, figuring out our finances, and trying to get pregnant. Pretty much since our ill-fated India trip, we've had our minds elsewhere. So it'll be great to just relax for a few days (well, 'relax' with family mayhem all around us, but whatever).

Then, next Tuesday, we're off to Cuba! Can't wait!

Well, off to get some work done. The office is closing at 3, so I should actually be productive for the rest of the day.

Merry Christmas Eve!

Dear Santa,

I know that in previous years, I've been a little greedy. I've asked for everything from a pony to a trip around the world, to peace on earth... with a lot of dolls, shoes, and purses thrown in there, too.

This year, I'm taking a step back, and I'm not asking for much. All I want for Christmas this year is a little line on a stick - specifically, a little pink line on a home pregnancy test. If I knew where to get one myself, I'd pick one up and not trouble you with it at all. But you've always been really great about finding the perfect gift, even when I wouldn't know where to find it, so that's why I'm appealing to you.

Since this might be a difficult task for you and I don't want to be a bother, you can give this gift to me and my husband as a joint gift. You don't have to pick him out anything special on top of the line on a stick.

Thanks so much,

Daphne.

My, how things have changed

Okay, so now that I've posted that finally, it's time for an update.

From that discussion, things have snowballed (in a good way). I went off the pill for the first time since I was 16 - having no idea what this would do to my body. Some people don't even start ovulating again for months after the pill or take a long time to get into a predictable cycle. So that was step number 1. And I started taking pre-natal vitamins - which thankfully, don't make me feel as gaggy as regular multi-vitamins do.

We've bought a ton of literature on trying to get pregnant, and just had to wait to see if I'd ovulate. And we started second guessing our trip to India. Is it the right time to go? Should we postpone and try to get my cycle normal instead of traveling? Should we go anyway, and just deal with my potentially raging pms while on vacation? Should we try to conceive now, and risk finding out if I'm pregnant while we're away with his parents halfway around the world?

It's been a couple of weeks of spinning and worrying and reading and figuring out if we can do this now, and trying to convince ourselves that waiting isn't the end of the world. It's not the end of the world - we know that rationally. But tell that to my brain and body. And his, too.

Our tickets to India are bought. The trip is entirely planned out. We're supposed to leave on November 19. But we're canceling today. Here's why - yes, work is nuts - his work is screwed if he goes away, and my boss will go nuts without me right now. But that's not really it. We found out that if we're trying to concieve (TTC), we can't take the malaria tablets we need to go on our trip - they increase the risk of a lot of things, including stillbirths. And if we did go and took the tablets, we'd have to wait 3 months after we go off the tablets before trying again. We hummed and hah'd, and today, we're canceling our tickets. My in-laws think it's because of my husband's work, and just don't understand why he can't tell them "too bad". They're disappointed we're not coming with them. When we find out we're pregnant and are ready to tell them, we'll tell them the real reason we canceled our tickets and I'm sure they'll understand.

So.... we've started tracking my basel body temperature - this helps you pinpoint when you ovulate, and therefore your most fertile time of month. And we bought an ovulation predictor kit (a pee-on-a-stick thing). And long story short, I found out this morning that within the next 24 hours, I think I'm ovulating - my first cycle off the pill. I'm ovulating. So I woke my husband up and told him to brush his teeth and get back to bed. We're having my best friend and her mom stay with us this weekend (they came this morning, will be out all day, but will be back later) so our window of opportunity is small.

So today was the first time in my life that I had sex with the intention of getting pregnant, instead of being fearful that I could get pregnant. It was bizarre. So that settled it - we're not going. We won't be able to take a pregnancy test until the day we should be leaving for India, so we're not going.

And now... we'll 'try' again a few more times over the next 12 hours (when Bev and her mom are out) just to up our chances, and we wait.

The probability is small - only 20% chance that we'll concieve, but wow, would that ever be exciting!

So now I have to wait 2 weeks - a little less if I try one of the early prediction kits, but it still seems like AGES away.

tick tock tick tock

I can't believe how quickly and easily everything in my life has changed.

Turning Over A New Leaf

I haven't blogged in ages, but I'm going to try to get more regular about it. I started writing a blog post a few weeks ago but never finished, so I'm going to post it now unfinished, and then just move on from there.

Started October 20:

I’ve been doing a lot of unexpected soul searching over the last few months, and I’m pretty weirded out by it all. I’ve always been in the “no kids” camp – in fact, I’ve been camp counsellor all my life. I could never picture myself with kids, never wanted that kind of responsibility, and while I liked other people’s kids (to a certain degree – just as I like other people’s dogs: nice to pet in the elevator, but I wouldn’t want to have to walk them every day and for the love of god, can’t you get that thing to stop barking??), I wouldn’t miss them if they weren’t there. In contrast, I have friends who have heard their biological clocks ticking since they were teenagers, and have looked forward to becoming a mother for as long as they could remember. I never thought I had a biological clock – and was perfectly happy with that.

My no-baby policy has always been a bit of a sore spot with my husband and I. I was upfront with him, and he agreed that we certainly have to be on the same page, and if I say ‘no way’, there’s not much he can do about it. But I told him I’d be open-minded, and nothing is set in stone. I knew how much he wanted kids and how much he hoped I’d change my mind, but still, I didn’t ever see it happening.

Then, something weird happened. In June, I attended a funeral for my best friend Bev’s grandma, and the family said such wonderful things about her – how she had passed her values down from generation to generation, how she would live on through the many people she had touched over the years, how proud her children are to see something of her in their children. And for the first time in my life, for a brief moment, I thought about my own life and what it would be like if I became a mom.

Just as quickly, I pushed the thought out of my head because, jeez, that’s nuts! However, over the months, I had more and more thoughts of what it would be like… mostly, I had these thoughts when I was with my brother & his son. NEVER when I was with my husband’s side – the kids are nuts, and the parents have no lives. Not something to aspire to - I'm a firm believer that a couple has to remain a couple, even after kids. If they become nothing more than parents (the marriage was given up for parenthood) there's nothing holding you together later. That's just my two cents - call me a hopeless romantic, but that's what I think.

Anyway, from the occasional 'what if' I've progressed very quickly to the "I want to get pregnant". It's freaking crazy, but it's all I can think about. I guess I did always have a biological clock, but it was dormant or something. I think a lot of it has to do with how solid my marriage is and how great my work is - so very baby-friendly.
So one night, my husband was rambling on about his day and how nuts work is and how they were asking him to cancel our trip to India later this month. He stops and looks at me, and says, "you're stressing about this, aren't you?" I replied, "I can't stop thinking about babies". I think he almost choked.

On thanksgiving weekend, we discussed the possibility of kids years away, and were both cool with it. But now, I want it now and there's nothing that will make it go away. I can't even explain it, but it's like an urgency I've never known. I'm anxious to get on with my life. I feel like we're wasting time - whereas not even a month ago, I couldn't fathom even thinking about a baby for years.

On seasons and birthdays and refusing to get older

I haven't blogged in ages, for no one reason in particular. Nothing important, really - just a combination of being busy at work (which is where I normally blog from), getting a new router at home and not being able to RDP to my home computer from work until it's configured correctly (I'm not dumb enough to blog on my work computer - I always connect to home first), and just being busy. I can't believe it's September. This weekend has been cool - and all of a sudden it feels like fall. I'm not ready for fall.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the autumn as a season. In fact, I quite like it: the crisp air, pretty colours, relaxing weekends (that aren't pre-booked with summer barbeques), pulling cozy sweaters out of hiding and (yes, I'm a girl) shopping for new boots. But there's something ominous about autumn, despite its perks. I know that, no matter how much I wish on a star, winter (that bitch) follows right behind. Autumn is always too short - just when I'm getting into the 'wear a light jacket' swing of things, I wake up one morning to find that Nirvana had it right: Mother Nature is, in fact, a whore. I hate winter. Have I mentioned that before? Hate. I have a December birthday, which has really ALWAYS sucked.


When I was a kid, my friends had these great birthday parties - Becky had pool parties in July. We went apple picking and horseback riding with Bev in October. Even my brother's April birthdays were fun, because sometimes (just sometimes) he'd let me come with him and his friends down to the creek to play by the definitely polluted waters looking for slimy things. But not me. No, I got to go skating (I hate being cold). Or to the movies (to this day, not my favourite thing in the world - I'd rather be outside, actually *talking* to my friends, not sitting in the dark looking forward). Then I just started having indoor parties - sleepovers with the girls. Fun, yes - but not as fun as horseback riding, that's for damn sure. Through University, my birthdays generally sucked, because they were right in the middle of academic hell - my English major friends were frantically writing essays. My friends in other programs were stressing about December exams. Asstastic. We always managed to go out, but there was always an air of "I should be doing something else right now - or I'm going to fail Modern British Lit."


Now that I'm older, birthdays are even less exciting. I live in Toronto, and most of my family & friends are still in London. So that means that I either get to brave the snow-filled 401 to go see them, or, as I tried last year, have my family up here to our place. That was a fiasco. My mom made a big stink about 'I have to drive all by myself..." sob sob drama drama. My sister-in-law made a huge stink for months that we wouldn't be in London for her daughter's birthday party (the date for my party was 5 days after her birthday - and only 1 day before mine. Sorry. Whatever. We were in town the weekend before for the other daughter's party and would be again for every other effing weekend of our lives, so shove it) It was so much un-fun start to finish. My mom and I got in a fight so huge that I told her that fine, I don't want to celebrate, fuck it. Don't come. Whatever. Sorry to put you out because I want to have family up to our place to entertain in our new condo because we finally have room to do so, but if it puts you out that much to drive to Toronto (though we drive there every other weekend), fine. She apologized begrudgingly, but it was a sour party, nonetheless.


So this year, I'm thrilled that I won't be in the country for my birthday. If I'm not here, it doesn't happen. We'll be in India for over 2 weeks, missing not only my birthday, but the two nieces and one nephew on my husband's side as well. Done and done. One trip to India wipes out 6 family celebrations/obligations (3 kids' birthdays + my birthday with my mom, my dad, and my in-laws). Wicked. We'll buy the kids extra-super birthday gifts to make up for missing theirs, but I've decided to just skip mine this year altogether. It's my party and I can skip it if I want to.

Maybe if I just close my eyes and hope, winter won't happen either...?
I'd love to have spring, summer fall.... and then spring again. And hey, since I'm wishing for the unthinkable, can I just stop getting older if I stop having birthday parties? If only...

A little from column A, a little from column B

I’ve always been a walking dichotomy – that’s not new. I’ve never wanted to be just one thing – I want to be that, and the opposite at the same time. It makes perfect sense to me, but I can see that it could be confusing for people trying to figure me out.

I don’t want to be an adult, but I want to be taken seriously like one.
I’m outgoing and gregarious, but I need to be alone just reading or writing to keep myself feeling like me.
I’m a raging feminist, but love the ‘womanly’ things feminists often rage against (I like that I’m *able* to use my sewing machine, but don’t expect me to *use* it!)
I love traveling alone, but then want everyone to share my experiences, somehow.

My husband pointed out another one in Saskatchewan this weekend that I hadn’t thought of before.

I’m a city kid, through and through… until I’m on the farm.

I was showing him around my grandparents’ farm on Friday, wanting him to love the barn and the cows and the wheat fields as much as I do. He just stopped and said, “This is so weird for me – I’d never picture this as you.”

I grew up in a city – my dad’s from Saskatchewan, but moved to Toronto when he was 18 to go to tech school. He didn’t want to take over the family farm, though he was the oldest son of 4. When we were kids, he took my brother and I out pretty much every summer to stay with his parents, hang with his brothers and cousins and their kids. We got into all kinds of trouble (mostly my brother, but me as well) and revelled in the way of life – so much to do, but nothing pressing. So many adventures, but nothing that needed to be accomplished. It was my home away from home, but couldn’t have been more opposite from the home I lived in the other 11 ½ months of the year. As soon as the plane landed in Regina, I was more than just the Ontario cousin – I was an out-of-province Prairie girl.

I had an awesome childhood. My days were carefree and fun, but what I remember most is those 2-3 weeks I spent out there each year, chasing barn cats, shooting tin cans with the 22, playing with my cousins, and roasting marshmallows at our cabin on the lake. That was the me I couldn’t be the rest of the year – just as real as the me I was in Ontario.

My husband has only ever known me as a city girl, besides the time we went to visit my best friend on her farm. He’s always known me as the girl with insensible shoes, who loves her lipgloss and misses her computer when she can’t check her email. But this weekend, I guess he saw the other half of me. He’s far more city than I am – he wasn’t at home out there in the slightest – but he tried, for me. He shot the 22 with me and my dad, he made s’mores for the first time in his life, he walked into the barn with me (but couldn’t understand why I loved the smell), he stared at fields of wheat. He had a good time, but just doesn’t love it they way I do. And that’s totally okay. We’re back in the city, in dress shoes at our desks, and all is well. I left one home for another, and that's okay.

Bright Eyed & Bushy Tailed

"Daphne, why the hell are you blogging at 6:20 in the morning on a Friday?"

Well, I'm glad you asked, dear readers.

I'm waiting for my husband to get the heck ready so we can leave the house. We're heading to Saskatchewan for the weekend (Friday -Monday) to visit my Dad's family. He's never met them, except for my Grandparents and an aunt & uncle at our wedding. There are a lot more of us, and he's in for a treat.

I believe I mentioned before that my husband is not particularly outdoorsy... in that he hates the outdoors. And I'm dragging him to a wheat farm on a gravel road in the middle of the prairies. Yay!

So excited. I used to go to Sask. every summer with my dad & brother when I was young, and I loved every minute of it. Dynamics have changed a bit (I likely won't be chasing the barn cats around or jumping on bales of hay) but the relaxation remains the same. Nothing to do, all the time in the world in which to do it.

Have a great weekend, all. I'm off to look at some fields of wheat (and hopefully get a few pictures of my husband on a tractor or something).

Exhaustion

I'm taking a quick break at work - mmm... coffee and cake....
It was an absolutely draining weekend. The thought of even writing about it makes me want to just curl up and sleep, so I plan to skip over it quickly. My mom was here. It wasn't fun. End of story. The planned events were a good idea. Went to a show, had dinner, dragged my friend Mis(adventure) out for a trip to the beaches (she's a saint). Next time, I'll do that again (the planning of many events), and I'll tell her she should bring a friend up, too. That way, she'll probably only do a day trip or maybe stay one night instead of two, and she'll have someone else to drive crazy. She's much better when there's a 'buffer' friend between us.

Yesterday, we drove to London with mom in the car (longest 2 hours of my life) and then dropped her off before heading to my dad's for dinner. I started dinner with a much-deserved martini.
Then, when we got back last night at 10, I decorated a cake for a 35+ person reception at work today.

I'm bloody exhausted. I have an absolute ton of work to do, and I just can't make my brain work. I need a nap. A long, looooong nap.

It has been two really exhausting weeks and I just want to cuddle with my husband on the couch and watch a movie or something (and by 'watch,' I mean 'sleep through').

Only 1:20 left of work... sigh.
Ok, coffee and cake break is over. Back at it.

Preparing

The funeral wasn't fun. My best friend's brother did the eulogy, and the whole room pretty much lost it. It was beautiful and heartfelt, and I was a mess. His eulogy about this wonderful woman who was loved and revered by every one of her kids, grandkids and greatgrandkids actually made me (briefly) reexamine my 'no kids' policy. Briefly. That's all I'm going to say about the funeral. It was sad. I'm glad it's done. I wish that I didn't know that Poppy will be next.

I'm back home now - well, I'm at work, actually. I took the train back yesterday evening.
My mom's coming up to visit tomorrow and I'm not exactly looking forward to it. She has a way of making me crazy over really stupid things. I have to spend tonight combing our condo for things that might invite uncomfortable conversations - like the card my dad sent thanking us for the hospitality a couple of weeks ago, and anything that might indicate how often we see my in-laws, and, well I can't think of anything else now, but there will be a lot tonight. I can't explain what it is about my mother... you you have to know her to understand it. For the longest time my husband didn't see or understand the crazy. He thought I was being unreasonable and she was fine. Now, he gets it. Welcome to the family.

The last time she came to TO was the weekend after we moved in August 07. She insisted on coming that weekend, despite the fact that we had just barely moved in and would like to take some time buying furniture and unpacking. Her solution was, "I'll help unpack!" Ya, not gonna happen. I can just imagine the drama that would bring. So, we spent our first week frantically unpacking and furnishing so we'd have everything done when she arrived - with a spare room set up so she wouldn't have to sleep on our couch. We were exhausted. And she had nothing she wanted to do while in Toronto besides 'visit' - which meant our entire August long weekend was spent just sitting in the living room while my mother told us how she would decorate, what she would do, where she would put things. And try to explain that this is how we want it? Unacceptable. Her ideas are so much better, and she just can't understand why we don't agree with her. Maybe if I just explain why my idea is better one more time, you'll understand. Ugh.

So this time, we've learned our lesson. We're planning things for the weekend. She's arriving Friday night, and Saturday we're thinking we'll do breakfast at home, Indian buffet for lunch (I'm inviting my friend Meg to come as a buffer), go to the Beaches in the afternoon to kill some time, and we're going to get tickets for something Saturday night - there's a hypnotist magician or something in Toronto this weekend. That would be good. And Sunday we're all driving to London together. We'll drop mom off at home and then take my Dad out for a belated Father's Day.

Should be a jam-packed weekend, but at least the amount of time my mom can bitch at me will be reduced significantly - she can't nag while we're in a theatre. I hope...

I don't really feel like writing, but then, I'm at work and I don't really feel like working either. Hence, a short post.

I'm leaving the office at 3 today so I can get downtown for a 5:00 train. My best friend Bev's grandma died on Sunday, so I'm heading to London for the visitation tonight & funeral tomorrow. I knew her almost as well as I know/knew my own grandmas, so it's been a sad couple of days. For Bev's wedding, she was living out of town at the time, so it was me and Bev's mom over at her grandma's house cutting and wrapping endless pieces of fruitcake. Her grandma was really the nicest lady, and she'll be missed a lot.

What's even sadder is that Grandma G has been taking care of Poppy (Bev's grandpa) for the last year or so, since he's been even sicker than she is. So we all know it's just a matter of time before he just lets go, and I'll be back to London for the second funeral.

I was a bit of a wreck on Monday at work - I just found out about Grandma G late Sunday night, and was a total mess. I don't think my husband's ever really seen me cry (crying during movies doesn't count) and he didn't know what to do with me, especially since she's not even my grandma. But she might as well be my grandma, and it makes it even harder knowing my that my grandma in Saskatchewan isn't well either and it could very easily have been her funeral I'm attending.

Today I'm okay, but I know I'll be a mess when I see Bev tonight at the funeral home. Even though I know the last month has been really awful for Grandma G and she's been in a lot of pain, it just doesn't make it any easier. Bev and I are like sisters - I've known her since we started being baby sat together when I was 6 months old. Our brothers are best friends and her brother participated as one of my 'brothers' in the Indian part of my wedding ceremony. Our parents are friends. Her family is my family, and their loss is my loss. It really hasn't been a good week so far.

So at 3, I leave work, drive home, change, take the subway to Union, catch my train, get picked up at the station by my mom, and head right to the funeral home for visitation. Then tomorrow, I'll go to the funeral on my own, then take a cab to the train station and come back to Toronto to prepare our condo to have my mom up to visit for the weekend.

Anyway, I might not post anything until next week.

If heaven was made of leather

I know that the readers of my blog are all male - and that's because I haven't given my blog address to any of my girlfriends.

So, kind sirs, I'm sorry that this post won't do anything for you at all.

Last night, we went out for dinner with my sister- and brother-in-law, since it was her birthday. We're doing a family celebration on Saturday, but we thought since we live in the same city, we should take her out on the day.

She surprised me with a gift.... a gift of shoes.

A gift of Giuseppe Zanotti shoes.

If you've ever heard Carrie Bradshaw on Sex & the City gush about her Manolos or Jimmy Choos, well, these are right up there. My sister-in-law bought them on sale in a size too small because she couldn't just not buy them at all. She's worn them once for about 20 minutes, but because it was agony for her feet (albeit heaven for her outfit), they've been sitting in her closet just dying to be worn.

Unbeknownst to me, about 4 months ago, she decided she should give them to me - my feet are an 8 and would fit the Zanotti's perfectly. It's been a 4 month struggle for her to let go of them, and last night, at the Spring Rolls at Yonge & Bloor, she presented me with the most beautiful pair of shoes I've seen in real life .

Okay, I think I need to clarify. I said she bought them on sale, and I think that statement, with no clarification, belies the true worth of these shoes. She bought them on sale for $550.00, down from $625.00.

$550 for shoes!!!!!

These babies were made by hand in Italy of delicious tan Italian leather. I could eat them. They are the sexiest shoes ever. Last night, my husband had to tell me I couldn't wear them to bed (because of course, when I got home, I had to wear them around the condo and didn't want to take them off). In fact, I'm wearing them now. I'm working from home today and I'm wearing my bathrobe and $550.00 shoes.

I am spoiled rotten by my in-laws. They give me jewellery for every major occasion (for our 1 year anniversary, my mother-in-law gave me a diamond pendant), MAC makeup (my sister-in-law is in the fashion industry, so she gives the fashion week giveaways made for blondes that she gets to me), and now, Giuseppe Zanotti shoes.

I love my life.

Entertaining

So I haven't posted in ages - sorry.
I went to Jamaica, and I really don't feel like writing up all the dissappointments of that fiasco because it will put me in a bad mood for the day. Let's just say this: Sandals Montego Bay is WAY overpriced for the budget vacation you really get, and romance there, despite how the lovely ads and vacation planning booklets look, is nonexistant. Well, there's "romance," but that's not the same as actual romance. Having our quiet dinner interrupted everyday by a Sandals photographer saying "look like you like each other! be romantic! give him a kiss!" is decidedly NOT romantic.

At any rate, 5 days of beautiful weather, lots of rum, and champagne in our room each night was better than 5 days here of crap weather, work, and no champagne at all.

So I'm blogging this morning kind of out of boredom. My dad & his partner are up visiting for the weekend and I stressed so much through the night about not being awake when they wake up (What if they're early risers? I didn't show them where the coffee is! Must be sure to be awake when they get up!) that I tossed and turned from about 4:45 until 7:20. At that point I said screw it, I'm up. So I've already cooked up a pound of bacon that just needs to be rewarmed and I've made a strawberry sauce for the coconut-crusted french toast I plan to make. (mmmm). Now I'm debating whether I should use this time to shower and dress, or if that will make Dad & Susan uncomfortable to chill in their jammies for breakfast.

I shouldn't worry this much. He's my dad, after all. This should be easy. The t hing is though, my dad didn't raise me. Sure, we saw him, and he took us on vacation to Saskatchewan to see his family in the summers, but we don't have the comfort that I have with my mom, or even with my husband's parents. I've never stayed over at his house, and that's the main difference. We go there for dinners, which are pretty formal. Fun, but formal. We sit in the living room and chat while he and Susan organize dinner, then come to the kitchen to eat, then go back to the living room to chat, then go home. We've never had a meal in our jammies before. I was explaining to my friend Meaghan that it's like having my Aunt & Uncle over for a weekend. They're family, but there's still a wall of formality between us.

Oh, I think I just heard somebody awake. I should wake up the hubby now. He's snoring, and he's definitely going to spend a half hour in the washroom when he wakes up, so I should go nudge him now. Ah, marriage ;)

Off turn on the coffee.

Not a happy girl.

Why does it seem like my in-laws are hell-bent set against letting us sleep in? We have spent the last 4 EFFING weekends in London due to family birthdays and anniversaries, which has been really, really wearing on us. We get no weekend - we spend the whole time driving back and forth to London and chasing our neices and nephews around.

Fine. So April has been a wash - nothing we can do about that. Birthdays are birthdays, and April is always going to be like that. Fine.

So yesterday was my brother-in-law's birthday, and since they live in the GTA, the London side is driving up here today for a BBQ. Awesome - a Toronto weekend, even though it's a family weekend. We went out for dinner with them last night and were saying how excited we are to sleep in today - we don't have to set our alarms, we don't have to get up early. Wooo.

So, guess who calls at 9:30???? My sister-in-law. "Oh, you weren't sleeping, were you?" "Well, I woke up about 5 minutes ago" (But was trying to fall back asleep). "Oh, I'm so sorry... did the phone wake my brother up?" I look over. "Yes, looks like it." "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize it isn't 10:00" (since when is 10:00 ok, even? Though it's better than 9:30, it's still too early to call, since she knew how much we were looking forward to sleeping in) There was a pregnant pause while she expected her brother to pick up the phone, despite the fact that she just woke him up unnessesarily. "Um, can I have him call you back when he's up?" "Oh... yeah okay. Sure."

Right. So you're not actually sorry you called us early, effectively ending the only sleep-in opportunity we've had for freaking ages.

My other sister-in-law used to do this all the time, and when my husband says, "Uggh, it's 8:00 on a Sunday. Why are you calling now - I'm sleeping" she'd say, sarcastically, "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't get to sleep in - I have two kids. I'm always up now" As though her choice to have two unruly children who have no concept of discipline is cause to make our mornings miserable. Like, we should pay for her not sleeping. That seems to have ended though, after my husband suggested that he start calling her at 1:30 or 2:00 in the morning, because , "oh, I always work late - I don't get to go to bed early. I'm always up now." She was appalled and responded with something like, "No! You can't do that, you'll wake the girls up!" Exactly.
I think that hit home a bit.

My rule: Unless it's an emergency, or you absolutely know we're up (like, we have to be over at your house at 11, or something), NOTHING BEFORE NOON. It's not like we're sleeping until noon, but maybe we'd like to have a morning without talking to our families every once in a while. Perhaps we, as a still newly-married couple, would like to spend our morning in bed, or having a nice, quiet breakfast, or reading, or ANYTHING ELSE that doesn't involve listening to you bitch about something.

Great, now I'm starting out my Saturday grumpy. And the TTC is on strike. And it grey and ugly out. Great.