Heat Wave

“Hey A, so what is chlamydia?” Not a question you look forward to answering, I can tell you that! Primero (who proclaims to still be a virgin) asked me this question Monday evening. After answering the obvious, “Er, it’s an STD?” I elaborated in explaining some potential symptoms and the solution of seeing a doctor for medication. Primero was asking for a friend and inquiring where to find a specific clinic, not the Planned Parenthood clinic that I knew to suggest. He asked a friend who frequents this specific clinic and I think a few more gray hairs are working their way out of my head. This nameless friend wanted Primero to accompany him to the clinic for moral support. Sigh. This isn’t one of his close friends asking, this is someone who talks to him when it’s convenient and then blows him off. I wish Primero would learn the value of a good friend, but I digress. After hashing out the moral and physical implications of unprotected sex and reminding Primero to A) always wear a condom, B) if he ever needed help he didn’t need to hide from me (his friend isn’t telling his parents), and C) let this be a lesson in what could happen if he isn’t careful in choosing a sexual partner, I acquiesced to the request to be a good friend and go along to the clinic this afternoon. I did tell him the clinic staff might think they were in a sexual relationship and suggest he get tested as well, which prompted Primero to invent and perform a whole character drama regarding this visit, alluding to the fact that he is certainly not yet ready for such relationships. I told him to not make this a habit and to also make it a point to never have to visit such an establishment for himself.

 

This Saturday is the baby shower for Hermano and his (I’m not sure if they are together or not) girlfriend. Because Hermano was not providing the necessary information, I contacted the girlfriend’s mom for time and location. I sent her a message on Facebook and she responded with the time (1pm) and the location (a 90 minute drive from where we live) and also asked me to bring a covered dish. Er, ok? Now, I have no problem contributing and I’m sure this request stems from the income limitations of the family, but I sort of think it’s rude to ask a complete stranger to bring a covered dish to a baby shower. Am I wrong? Regardless, I will bring along some sort of food item. We have a long drive in a van with no AC, so that certainly limits my options, unless I want to get creative with ice in a cooler.  Primero initially declared he didn’t want to go if his mom was going to be there, but has since softened his stance and decided to attend. I also asked about bringing the kiddos and was told this would be no problem and that men would also be in attendance. Ok, that’s fine, not that I asked or anything. I haven’t looked at the registry lately to see what they still need. I tend to not shop from registries simply because this makes me spend more time in a store that usually makes me leave in tears. I feel stupid typing that, but I have yet to go into Baby’s R Us to shop for a baby shower and not feel all those old haunting feelings of infertility. It’s like getting a whiff of a certain scent, that uninvited wave of emotion that overtakes you and whisks you back to a certain place and time; for me it is painful and so I try to avoid it. But, if there are certain generic items left on the registry, I can get them from Target where I don’t feel like a reproductive reject and can leave without the waterworks. I’m not really looking forward to the shower and I’m dreading the drive, but I know these expecting parents need the support and I know it is important to Primero. I’m hoping this will be a drama-free event, but knowing his mother, I have my doubts. At least we have plans to go to the pool with Chica Marie’s therapist this Sunday. Ok, I know that sounds weird, but the therapist is kind of trying to be my friend in a really nice way and she invited us to her pool, which is a REALLY nice pool because she got free passes when she bought her membership. I’m sure there will still be some therapy mingled with the swimming, but I think it will still be a lot of fun.

 

Last night Love Bug fell asleep on the couch while I was doing Chica Marie’s hair. After I got her to bed, I scooped him up and out him in his bed, kissing his soft cheek as I laid him down. He snuggled into bed and one-arm hugged his glow worm and was fast asleep. Not long after he was in bed, Love Bug began to cry. But, it wasn’t his whiney cry to get my attention, he was crying hard, like something hurt. I check on him to make sure he didn’t get stuck somehow or injure himself in some way. I patted his back to soothe him, but he only cried harder. I scooped him out of his crib and spoke softly to him, seeking to soothe whatever pain he was feeling. He never woke up, he just continued to cry, a painful wail. After a few minutes he calmed down and I placed him back in his bed. He must have been dreaming and Primero and I tried to guess what he was dreaming about that made him cry like that. I described the cry as pain, but Primero described it as if Love Bug had lost something he really, really wanted. Despite his upsetting dream, Love Bug managed to sleep through the night for the second night in a row. Is it possible, that after 2 years of disrupted sleep, Love Bug might actually spend an entire night asleep in his own bed?! I’m sure I’ve jinxed it now….

 

In other sleeping news, last Thursday I ran out of night-time diapers for Chica Marie. With no other acceptable substitute, I sent her to bed and was pleasantly surprised when she woke up dry. Fearing it was a fluke, I did the same thing the following night and all weekend and she managed to be dry every morning. She did have an accident Monday night but didn’t tell me about it. So, her pajamas and bedding sat and festered all day, until she put her pajamas on the night and I smelled her. This resulted in a quickie bath and immediate stripping her bedding. What a mess! I’m hoping this is the light at the end of the tunnel and that she will no longer need a diaper to sleep in at night, leaving us with one diaper wearer in the house.

 

We are in the midst of a heat wave with no end in sight. The temperatures have soared above 90 for at least 5 days now and the AC in the van does not work, nor does the passenger side window go down. It is miserable driving anytime the sun is up, but specifically when driving home in the afternoon. I feel sick by the time we scramble into our air conditioned house and refuse to venture back out into the heat unless absolutely necessary. I hate summer. I hate the heat. And, as if that weren’t bad enough, I have my period. And I hate having my period (I mean, who doesn’t). I especially hate having my period realizing it is not technically a period since I don’t ovulate. It is just a pointless and painful exercise in futility with the sole purpose of making me hate my lousy, ineffective reproduction system even more. I mean really, what’s the point? It actually sometimes makes me angry having to deal with it, the mess, the discomfort, the reminder. I’m going to see my gyno on Friday, after a near 3 year hiatus, so I will talk with her about non-birth control options. I don’t see much hope and I’m sure she will tell me to lose weight because that’s the cure-all for what ails me, it seems. Lose weight! Find a man! It’s all so easy to say but not to do. At least it will eventually be fall and I won’t have to worry about melting into a puddle on the short drive home