Stargazer » Crazyland

Hello, Welcome to the Wordy-Word Sleep & Time Deprived Blog

jules.maas — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 21:20:19 +0000

It’s well after noon here already and there are still diapers on the floor, my lunch is burning on the stove and I have a level-ton of laundry/phone-calls/appointments to organize. You know, all the usual cliche excuses not to blog. But the girls are napping (THANK YOU GOD) and I’m not that hungry yet (Lies!), so today I’m dropping it all to wave ‘Hi’ to everyone who’s taken a moment to visit me from Melanie Blodgett’s uber-fab babble blog.

Ashley says HELLLOOOOO:

Melanie’s blog is everything I wish I’d found during our infertility journey. Site after site after message board of ‘get therapy’, ‘pray’, ‘just quit stressing about it’ or ‘my cousin’s friend’s uncle’s acquaintance adopted and then got pregnant!’ stories – not a single bit of it satisfied my aching need for just a little freaking Truth, please.

Which is why it’s a HUGE DEAL to me to be published in her infertility/hope series. If our story helps just a little, in someone feeling less alone, or more heard, or best of all, emotionally justified that will be the second biggest achievement of this whole process. Because one of the worst parts of going through this is being guilted for your grief, or God forbid, your anger.

Everyone sees the Bitter Infertile Woman and tries to make her feel better. Because they need her to feel better, because they love her. But all I ever really wanted (besides a child) was any one of the thousand people along our path look me in the face and say, Hey. This effing sucks, and you’re allowed to feel like this. So this is my small way of saying it to someone else who might need it.

Infertility fucking sucks. If you’re sad, if you’re angry, you’re allowed.

Because I Is a Crazy Person

jules.maas — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 15:30:27 +0000

Playing with pictures last week got me all sorts of inspired and now that the girls are seven months old (?!?) I’m thinking two things: 1), it’s time to ask Rick over again and 2) WE NEED AWESOME PROPS. I don’t remember who it was on facebook that got me hunting for these, because as soon as I saw it my brain went O.M.G. BABY TUTUS. MUST. GET. BZZZZT! but I was ALL OVER THAT until I saw that prices range anywhere from $20 to $95 each. And then my brain went STILL LOVE, BUT…NO.

So I’ve decided to make them myself.

Ok, Wait. Where Was I?

jules.maas — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 23:37:37 +0000

Oh yeah. I had Triplets. …quite some time ago. And even though I started writing about it in my head 15 minutes after surgery, I haven’t had a minute to breathe since.

However.

Interesting thing about babies: You literally see them change the day they turn another week older. And this week, we hit 6 months. And it’s like some sort of baby lightbulb went off and said “NAPTIME! BEDTIME! WE GET IT! …sorta. almost. kinda.”

So I’m thinking I’m going to be able to get back here a little more often now.* Which makes me glad. ‘Cuz I have SO MUCH TO TELL YOU.

Here’s a look at the beginning of our journey:

Click here to view this photo book larger

* Interesting thing about babies #2: never Never NEVER brag about how well they sleep in writing. Because that kind of karma will bite you in the ass the second you hit ‘publish’ and three scream-filled hours later you will find yourself at the grocery store starbucks begging them to stay open just five more minutes and staring into your green tea frappicino thinking that there couldn’t be enough whipped cream on this if they sold you every last canister in the fridge. But you never know until you try.

Missing

jules.maas — Thu, 30 Sep 2010 22:07:06 +0000

If ever there was a time to go and lose four months of posts to the Domain Transfer Fiasco 2010, it probably should have been before I started going to job interviews. Because that is the #1 reason I stopped writing here.

Between February and April, I was filling my “Crazyland” category with a whole bunch of stories about our 10 year struggle with infertility and upcoming IVF attempts. While this is a personal blog, I know for a fact employers land here whenever I’m ‘Googled’. And nothing says “hire me” like page upon page of HEY UNIVERSE, GIMME MAH BAYBES.

The logical solution would have been to write new content regarding Design! Project Management! Additional Work-Related Awesomeness! But that wasn’t what I wanted to write here. So I just stopped writing, period.

Instead, I put all my energy into my job search. I wanted a full-time job, and if I couldn’t have it, I needed the weekly unemployment benefits. Meeting benefit requirements meant writing 1500 different versions of my resume, creating 1500 job board accounts, going on interviews, to networking events, to job skills seminars. To say it was frustrating, spending so much time jumping through hoops and never landing on the target, is a lot like saying “We’re going to the Moon using this series of Ladders”. Ridiculously pointless.

The posts I was so worried about are gone now, due to the aforementioned blog-o-bomb, making the decision to stop writing feel all the more of a waste. But while I didn’t hit the target, I am keeping in mind that there WERE rewards: I did make new connections. I did create resumes that will help me in the future. I did sharpen my interview skills.

And I did sort out that as contradictory as it sounds, focusing on my writing and freelancing will make me 100% happier and 100% more likely to get work now that my unemployment benefits have ended.

Although it’s scary, and although it was offered, I decided not to apply for an extension. I can’t in good conscience spend one more minute of someone else’s money on a job search that I know for a fact is not going to get me hired.

A fact that I know because something else happened this summer. Something impossible.

On My Way Back from the Well

jules.maas — Wed, 15 Sep 2010 18:02:21 +0000

To signal my return to blogging, I originally planned to post something else for Video Wednesday. Something graphic, iconic and universally recognizable even though it’s sung entirely in German.

But first thing this morning, a random tweet sent me to a song I loved a long time ago. And it sang about every topic that’s kept me tongue-tied the last few months. Looking for a job and not getting one. Petty politics on facebook. Loved ones with breast cancer. Friends who have died. Feeling sick as a dog and a little bit scared in the face of the biggest challenge of my life.

Watching the Traveling Wilbury’s ‘End of the Line’*, I was reminded how thankful I am for the people close to me, even if they’re not physically near me, and that really, it IS all going to be okay.

*Embedding of this video has been disabled by the owner, so I can’t show it here. Just click the link – it’s safe – I think you’ll like what you see.

Blog Rule #5: You’re An Idiot*

jules.maas — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 07:18:38 +0000

Here’s a new life lesson: If you happen to be getting ready for your first IVF cycle and have a blog, do not post anything about it unless it works. Especially if it’s anywhere within 100 feet of Christmas. I know you will be hopeful and scared and wanting to include everyone, but don’t. JUST DON’T. Because you will get a LOT of lovely, amazing people very, very excited.

These people will leave you wonderful comments. They will send you encouraging emails. They will mail you handwritten Christmas cards speaking hopefully of baby presents next year.

Which you will open the same day as the statement from the clinic that details the fact that you spent every last benefit dime on a procedure that did. not. work. And you will stand there looking at your Christmas card table envisioning setting the whole thing on fire, thinking, ‘what the hell do I say now?’.

Instead of figuring that out, anytime soon, you will go to a party the next day and get very, very drunk. You will be very, very hungover at your husband’s hockey game when one of the wives announces she’s pregnant. You will get up and move to the other fucking side of the arena in order not to murder anyone. You will go to your own going-away party and drink some more. You may start a kick-line in the middle of the city attorney’s living room and spill wine all over her wood floor. You will get up the next morning and start drinking as much damn coffee as you’ve ever wanted In. Your. Life. After which your neighbor will shoot the shit with your husband while he puts up lights, and casually mention that they are pregnant, too. Again. For the third time. OH, THE WOE.

You will be angry. You will be sad. Then you will be numb. Every time you try to write a post, you will be too tired, too worked up and entirely too unreasonable to make any sense at all. But if anything else, you will be 100% sure that saying any of this would only make those wonderful people feel bad. During Christmas.

So you will say nothing.

*Dear readers, just in case it’s not clear: I love you, love you, love you. I’m not calling YOU an idiot. I’m calling ME an idiot. Via the timeless wit of the Wedding Crashers.

Box of Hope and Hell

jules.maas — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 22:15:57 +0000

I’m working on a recap that’s gotten bigger than I ever intended, and I’ve quickly realized that I’m not going to be able to post it today. So until Monday, I’m just going to leap to the end of that “Things I’ve Been Up To Since August” list and shout out the biggest topic on it. More than anything else that’s happened, I’ve wanting to write about this one thing. And at the same time, have been utterly afraid to.

Afraid to be angry. Afraid to be sad. Afraid to sound bitter. Afraid to make other people feel bad. Afraid to lose friends. Afraid to look bad to potential employers. Because ALL of these things have happened.

But you know what? I HATE being afraid. It’s pointless and wasteful and doesn’t do a THING for you unless you’re directly being threatened by axe-murders or vampires or sexy-beast werewolves. In that case, yes. RUN YOUR ASS OFF.

Last week, this ginormous box of IVF drugs arrived at our house. After 3 months of waiting and testing and several sessions of crying.

Today I started taking them.

Warning of an Uncontrollable Reflex

jules.maas — Fri, 30 May 2008 17:19:39 +0000

May is a challenging month at our house. In addition to travel and a healthy schedule of birthdays and graduations and anniversaries – my birthday is seven days before our wedding anniversary. And Mother’s Day is smack in the middle of both.

This was not so much an issue a few years ago. We love our Mothers. We love showing them we love them. But. Then. Someone told us they were pregnant. THE DAY BEFORE MOTHER’S DAY. When we’d been trying for five god-damn years. (Now seven.)

And unless you are Travis, I don’t think there’s another person on Earth who can remotely fathom what a colossal mind-fuck that was. Because he alone experienced the day that Mother’s Day died and became the holiday known as: The Week of Hateful Darkness Wherein Jules Ignores All Life.

I am getting better. I think. For the most part, the hate is a lot less intense. But I still don’t watch much tv. Or want go shopping. Or care to talk to people.

It’s hard avoiding a holiday that screams ‘HEY! Look at me! And all the wonderful things YOU DON’T GET TO HAVE. Ha-ha!’ like some gargantuan, retarded, one-eyed Cookie Monster who’s everywhere you look and everywhere you go. And whom apparently, feels the need to manifest in everyone you meet.

Under this constant barrage of words and images, I’ve never felt so much the urge to stab somone with a set of dull car keys as when I’m out trying to maintain my sanity doing normal everyday stuff – and a waiter or grocer or volunteer invades my crazy-space by handing me a carnation and wishes me a ‘Happy Mother’s Day’.

I don’t expect people to know I’m not a Mom by looking at me. I don’t expect them to understand why it pisses me off. I just expect them to not exist for a while.

So I stay home.

Message: Do not EVER hand Jules anything while saying ‘Happy Mother’s Day’. It could be chocolate, it could be diamonds. It doesn’t matter. You will still lose an eye. Say, ‘Happy Anti-Social Week’. Or ‘Happy Drink Until You Forget Your Name Day’. Just don’t say ‘Mom’. It’s safer for everyone.

Hello Little Miss Maas

jules.maas — Sat, 13 Jan 2007 22:46:32 +0000

Last night I was up until 1am writing a completely different draft for this post. It was filled with angst and tears and all the heartbreaking things I’ve been aching to write about for months now.

God knows I have plenty to say. But as I sat at my desk red-eyed and weary, thinking about how all this should come out, I realized God also knows there’s time enough for that stuff later.

Because right now this isn’t about me. It’s about her:

Born January 10th 2007.
Photo courtesy of Lenora & John Howard, BIPS Realty, LLC.

She’s the first girl born to the Maas family in recorded memory (that’s at least three whole generations) and our new niece.

Welcome to the fam, kiddo. We’ll be seeing you soon.

Its Time to Eat the Doughnuts

jules.maas — Tue, 22 Aug 2006 21:45:34 +0000

Yes. Those are donuts. In my car. In a convenient easy reach package.

Because today? God. damn.

If I get one more fricking email about this stupid project that amounts to nothing, that absolutely refuses to go right, that takes over and derails my entire day…

If I lose one more day to this tiny-ass roadblock on which no one is capable of helping me out or make a decision or even RESPOND within three fricking days…

If I get passed off to one more random person to loop in and keep track of on this ever-expanding list of project ‘participants’…

If one more woman tells me “I have some news…I’m PREGNANT!! Isn’t it GREAT?!”…

If I have one more person tell me about this woman they know who just delivered via IVF and it made them think of me….

If I have one more acquantance/stranger offer me their uterus or suggest some dumb ass infertility miracle like say, ACUPUNTURE…(A real, live, serious person told me this would solve ALL my problems. Do we LIVE IN THE MATRIX?! I. DON’T. THINK. SO.)

If I have to hear one more time how wonderfully beautiful and GLOWING my pregnant sister, oh no wait, my preganant sister-in-law, or no wait, my pregnant sister’s friend’s wife is…

I’m going to stab myself in the eye with a pair of large, rusty scissors.

So I’m going to sit right here and eat this entire box of perfect, round chocolate covered bites of escapism while watching the Work Out marathon and living vicariously through other people who can kick some ASS.