You’ve probably noticed that I’ve changed my icon to a Microsoft Paint version of myself. It just felt like it was time for a change. Not a huge change, but an icon change. I’m still firmly committed to Infertility’s Common Thread, but sometimes you just need a splash of orange and bright yellow hair bows too.

This is the other thing: I have a few other bloggy ideas brewing for this new year. One I am creating off-line at the moment. Not to be mysterious, but I have a bunch of stuff to get in place before I start. The other I started tonight.

I’m declaring myself an advice columnist.

I have no grounds for doing so except that I had an idea for an advice column and I wanted to use it. And if someone great like let’s say a cool online literary magazine were to want to pick it up and start running it, I could transfer the idea over there. This could be, let’s say again, a test run to see if this type of advice column would work.

It felt like there was a need for this tonight. So I started it tonight. That’s my new attitude coming into play. I’m not waiting. I’m not waiting in long lines anymore unless I have a good book to read. I’m not waiting for people to call me back. I’m not sitting on ideas–I’m putting them into action. I’ve declared my wonky cycles and my lack of ability to procreate as the only waiting I’m willing to do. Life is too short to be waiting in too many places at the same time.

So, it’s up and it’s ready to go. My site is called One Smart Mama. It is born out of the fact that I received three separate emails yesterday asking for advice because the people didn’t want to blog about their situation but they wanted to get feedback. So here is a place where you can ask your questions or voice your concerns and gather a lot of advice from many different people. And do it anonymously. And this advice column will be different from other ones out there–not only because it will be run by me therefore you will never be mocked for your question or concern–but because it will include references to literature, art, music, poetry, film, theater, and famous quotations in order to help you gain a different perspective on your situation.

I will start posting as soon as I have questions and the directions are up on the new blog: One Smart Mama. And like the tag says, it is as if the Ethicist and Carolyn Hax came together to create a love-child via IVF. With you, the reader, weighing in as a chorus of 1000 voices. Or at least twenty. Right?

Please come on over and see what I’ve been up to along with writing the first post-blogoversary Friday Blog Roundup. Which will be posted over here tomorrow along with a book review for a cool book that I just read.

CD3 is always my hardest day of the cycle. I know long before Truman Capote comes knocking on my door for the party that my period is imminent. I mourn at the end of the cycle, therefore CD1–even if it comes with cramps and tampons–feels like a fresh start. CD2 is a throwaway day that I barely think about. But CD3 reminds me that last month didn’t work so why should I believe that this month will be any different? CD3 is my doubt day. It’s my down day.

The third day is always my downfall. I can be gung-ho about a diet the first day and stick to leafy vegetables and tofu. I can tally up my calories and go to bed thinking about how I did a great job. The second day is always a throwaway day that is neither here nor there. But the third day is the “just one cookie” day that sends me backsliding towards my old habits. And usually, by day 4, the diet is over.

I could provide many more examples of my inherent weakness, but instead, I will tell you how I am approaching CD3 of the Planner Protocol–the one where many fuck-its have been prescribed as well as a few get-some-balls-Melissa injections.

Bagels.

I made 29 bagels to restock the freezer.

I know that it’s difficult to see how bagels relate to the planner, but it’s all part of the whole package of letting things go into disarray. I had good intentions to restock the freezer, but the task kept getting away from me because I never organized myself well. Therefore, in between transferring hundreds of post-its into the new planner, I shaped and boiled and baked the bagels. And since this recipe is certainly of the fuck-it variety (see recipe below), I’ve included it in this post in case anyone else wants to restock their freezer with bagels.

Yesterday, I met someone new at the library and not only did I call her in the evening to make plans but I transferred her phone number from the little scrap of paper she gave me into my planner. Which means that I will be able to find it tomorrow. Unlike my neighbour P’s phone number which still hasn’t surfaced as I clean my desk of the scrappage.

But, probably most important, and a thought that I think is directly tied to my new sense of having made it instead of still faking it: when I took my temperature this morning on CD8 of my actual cycle and it was 98.2 (whereas the day before it was 97.7 and the day before that it was 97.4 and I predict that tomorrow it will be either 97.5 or 97.6 and if anyone is the betting kind, I’m taking numbers right now), I didn’t set down the thermometer lightly and stare at it for a long time and think about how since I started trying to time this damn progesterone test I have had three abnormal charts. Instead, I rolled back over and tried to go back to sleep, reminding myself that I’ve decided it’s out of my hands. I’m not going to get pregnant on my own. I’m going to rely on doctors. And if it gets me what I want in the end, then fuck it.

On the Fuck-It front, Stephen Colbert had an interesting guest last night. You can see Daniel Gilbert’s interview online for the time being (just click on the one for Daniel Gilbert). He wrote the book Stumbling on Happiness–the main premise being that “people can’t predict what will make them happy.” The author points out that people are terrible at figuring out what will make them happy and how long that happiness will last. Stephen Colbert points out that there are some givens that make people happy–like cash–to which the author answered that cash is meaningful to people who literally have no cash because it transforms their life. But once one is ensconced in the middle class, getting more money doesn’t really bring more extended happiness.

I’d like to beg to differ that if someone came up and said they were going to fund my non-covered IVF cycles that I would be eternally happy and eternally grateful.

The two points I found most interesting was (1) the idea of illusion of memory and (2) his thoughts on children. But let’s focus on the first one because I currently have the clip paused and I’m watching it again. Gilbert states that, “it turns out, of course, that there are illusions of memory so people do remember that they’re happier than they used to be, but they’re often misremembring how happy they once were.”

In other words, once you’re out of the emotion, you remember that you were sad or happy, but you can’t remember the shade of sadness or happiness. Therefore, you may be saying that you were in utter despair when you really weren’t. Or you may say that it didn’t bother you that much when it actually bothered you quite a bit in the moment. I would think for present-sake, you would optimally remember your past as more unpleasant that your present. Because it would make your present seem so much better.

But, of course, I watched this interview and thought about the whole thing in terms of infertility and having children and remembering how I felt before vs. how I feel now. And also, the fact that journaling or writing a blog can bring you back into that moment or back into those feelings. Unless Gilbert states that you can never recapture the true essence of the moment even if you reread your thoughts on it. I should probably read his whole book rather than basing my assumptions on a three minute interview.

His other interesting statement was about children. He claimed that the top two things that consistently make people happy are marriage and religion. When Stephen Colbert points out that children make people happy (damn straight or why the hell am I putting myself through this?), Gilbert states that “we do love our kids…but it turns out that kids have a very small effect of people’s happiness and the effect tends to be negative…People with children tend to be a little less happy than people without them and the more children they have, the less happy they turn out to be.”

And, of course, I’m viewing this statement through the lens of infertility. I’ve got to say that I predicted that children would make my happy therefore it was worth jabbing myself in the stomach to have them. I am happier now so I’m glad my prediction was correct. BUT I do also have a friend who went through IVF and conceived her daughter and found out that she wasn’t happier. And I guess this is my question for those who are currently parenting after IF/loss: did the wait and the thinking about the process (vs. easily getting pregnant without assistance) and having to make the hard decisions give you the edge to predict your own happiness and were you correct in that assessment (are you happier now)? For those who are putting yourself through hell and back to become parents: what did you think of this statement? Is it just rubbish spoken by an author who became a parent easily (I’m making a lot of assumptions about his sperm quality with this statement) or does he have a case that we can’t predict what will make us happy? And therefore, should we just say “fuck it” and take happiness as it comes instead of trying to create it. Can we create happiness?

I must get back to my bagels. Which I predicted would make me feel more on-top-
of-things and therefore happier. And by fuck, it did.

Maybe I just have the gift of the third-eye. Or whatever one needs to be able to predict the future.

As promised even though it is making this post waaaaaaay too long:

When the dough comes together, divide into 8 pieces and roll into small balls. Leave them on a mat to rest with a damp towel over them. After 10 minutes, shape the bagels by pressing your thumb through the center of the ball and then smoothing out the circle to create the classic “bagel” shape.

Place these bagels on a cookie sheet sprinkled with cornmeal. Cover with plastic wrap. Leave in the refrigerator for 12—18 hours. This step is important. It is part of the rising process and cannot be skipped. I usually make the bagels at 8 a.m. and then bake them at 8 p.m. Or I make the dough in the evening and finish the bagels in the morning.

After 12 hours or so, remove the bagels from the refrigerator and set a timer for 20 minutes. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Fill a large pot with water and bring to a boil. Once the bagels have warmed (the 20 minutes out of the refrigerator), drop them a few at a time into the water and boil for around 30 seconds total, flipping them over halfway through. Remove and allow them to drain on a rack. At this point, you can add toppings such as dried chopped onions, dried chopped garlic, sesame seeds, poppy seeds, salt, etc. (there is a different recipe for making raisin bagels and other sweet bagels. Write me directly if you want the additional recipes–thetowncriers@gmail.com).

Once you have boiled all of your bagels, transfer them to a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. They will bake in the oven for 14 minutes, but begin checking on them by 12. You want them nicely browned.

Cool and eat.

This is the item that is going to change my life. Or, at the very least, the state of my desk.

I can’t find anything. My desk is literally a mess of post-it notes with a computer in the center. I have a phone call I’ve been meaning to make for five days now. There is a post-it note somewhere to remind me to do this. But I don’t know where it is in the pile.

(This may not actually gibe with how you’ve been picturing me based on my extremely anal side-bar, but I have organizing tendencies that don’t always mesh with my organizational resources).

Bea posted a video by Cake this week for the Great Cake Day of the song “Love You Madly” which contains the wonderful line: ” I don’t want to fake it / I just want to make it.” Because isn’t that the message that is continuously looping through the IF community? Just fake it until you make it. And I’m with Cake. I’m done faking it. I just want to make it.

As the resident cake maker, I had to make my cake before I could have my cake and eat it too. But Josh was an excellent sous chef (is it a sous chef if you’re baking?) and dish washer. We froze a few of the 40-some-odd cupcakes because the twins are trying chocolate for the first time later this week and they asked for a chocolate cake (we’re going to eat chocolate at least twice before their birthday party just because it would really suck to have an allergic reaction right after blowing out your birthday candles).

We frosted them with chocolate or vanilla icing. And left all of them undecorated. Why? Because a decorated cupcake is a finished product. There’s no room to grow. And my blog? It’s still a work in progress. It’s not yet ready for an icing rose to finish off the top.

We brought the cupcakes downtown to Josh’s office and fed them to his coworkers who unknowingly helped me celebrate a year of blogging.

Welcome to the first Great Cake Day. The closest that we can come to holding a huge, virtual, international party. Below is a list of everyone who is participating in this Great Cake Day. They have bought or baked a cake or like dessert on June 25th and consumed it–either alone or with others–in a celebration of community. Sort of like a virtual block party, with imaginary music, lots of good friends, and delicious cake to boot.

Everyone has taken a picture of their chosen confection and posted it on their blog along with whatever else they were moved to write: lyrics to a song they listened to while they consumed the treat, a recipe, a story. I’ve compiled a list below and I will keep adding to it as people send me a link to their party post. Jump through the list, going from party site to party site, leaving comments and happy thoughts in your wake. And unlike a real party that takes place in a finite amount of time, this party may stretch for several days with new party posts added to the list. Keep checking back and this post will be archived under the Festivities icon on the side bar.

The Great Cake Day is the culmination to a week of celebrating along with the Commentathon and the Secret Ode Days (more coming soon). It is also my Blogoversary. I’m sort of at a loss for words. I’ve spent a good ten minutes staring at the screen and trying to think back to this day one year ago. In a notebook, I had written down our brainstorming session as we tried to come up with name for the blog. Iffys. The Waiters. The Psychlists. Stirrup Queens. Sperm Palace Jesters.

When I think about this year, it feels a little bit like a board game. Think Chutes and Ladders or Candyland. There were all these jumps forward like Infertility’s Common Thread or Operation Heads Up. There was the Peer Counselor List and the Creme de la Creme and the Emoblopedia and the Blog Roundups (anniversary for the Roundups is July 21st. Expect a plea for help in the next week or two to make the July 20th Roundup a huge bloggy extravaganza). There were the Barren Bitches (and sometimes a man-pie or two) marching through book after book. There were Blilts woven (and no, I haven’t forgotten about the bad advice blilt–I’m still putting it together) and movies made for Bea’s IIFF. There were lists of favourite things to peruse after yet another negative. There were numerous ways to make wishes and have others hold your wish tightly too. And, of course, we’ve opened our own imaginary speakeasy and gotten stinkin’ virtually drunk month after month. I had no idea when I started this blog that all of these ideas would come to the surface. But they were all the things that were missing for me the first time through infertility and loss. And somewhat selfishly, I started all of these things because I needed them. Because I wanted them. And I am glad you came along too to this virtual living room to hang out because it is a lot less lonely this time around with all of you. This is the place I go mentally when I am stuck in a conversation with a woman on the playground who is complaining about the spacing of her children. I jump here mentally and one of you is usually sitting around here too and we both say, “by fuck! Will this woman shut up?”

And there were chutes along with the ladders. At least chutes for me. After reading Elizabeth Swire Falker’s book, I went for thrombophilia testing and found out that I have two mutations. Obviously, it’s good to have the information now and be able to move forward with it, but having it years ago could have saved us a lot of heartache. I haven’t been able to get pregnant on my own, so it looks like we’re returning to the RE, which I expected, but is still a disappointment. More ladders than chutes perhaps, but we’re at the end of this board game and it’s time to start a new round. Let’s clean up the pieces and reset the board and all sit down again for another year of Let’s Make a Baby. No, no, I’m not going anywhere. And everything that was started this year will continue this next year. But there are many bloggy ideas that have already begun percolating for these upcoming months. Stay tuned.

But right now, go eat some cake, blog about it, and send me the link. Oh, and while you eat your dessert (whether it be homemade cake or an Oreo purchased at the local food store), start clicking below on the list of other people who are all having their cake and eating it too. And throwing a damn fine imaginary party that is stretching across five continents and many many time zones.