cindy's world

I had an eventful weekend roadtripping up to NorCal, stopping by Sunnyvale to visit college roommie Diana and spending a few days in Napa for a meal and wine tasting, and Calistoga for Eddie & Michelle’s small private wedding ceremony. I’ll write about that when I’m able to get my photos together.

An odd memory played itself in my head this morning on the drive to work. I was 19, with my first boyfriend in the passenger seat of his mom’s Mercedes, which he was driving. We were on a main street in the Monterey Park area. We stopped at a red light. I looked left at opposing traffic, which was also stopped at their own light. I noticed a guy driving a pickup truck and stared at him because he looked exactly like an older grownup version of my then-boyfriend (whom we’ll call Jerome). This is unusual because Jerome is very unusual-looking, to put it euphemistically. I was just blown away that they looked this similar. That pickup driver, within the first seconds of my stare, looked up and weirdly turned to his left, looked across multiple lanes of stopped cars between us, and made direct solemn eye contact with me. That lasted 4-5 more seconds as I gawked at who appeared to be Jerome in the future. It took this long for Jerome to turn to his left. He didn’t see me staring, but he sure noticed that pickup guy staring, because he said irritably, “What the hell is THAT guy staring at?!” as the light turned and we started to move forward again. I didn’t say anything, and he thankfully didn’t turn to look at me. It seemed odd and ironic that he didn’t realize he was staring at himself. How many people in the world looked like that?! I was lost in thought for a few minutes after that. What is this, a wrinkle in time? I thought. Did the space-time continuum fold back on itself and give us a glimpse of the two juxtaposed realities? And if that’s the future, I thought with horror, Where was I? And what’s with the beat-up pickup truck? I also wondered whether the future Jerome, when enough time passed and he became the guy in the pickup staring at the younger version of himself with the girlfriend in the front seat, would remember that he was on the other side of the stare back decades ago. The stunned look of the pickup driver certainly suggested he made such a connection.

This morning, I thought with amusement about young love. We really thought we’d be together forever in our early relationships. I never told Jerome about this because it was creepy to me at the time and he scared easy anyway, so I didn’t want him to freak out that I was missing from his future AND he did not appear to be as affluent in his adulthood as his parents made him in his youth (something very important to him). I wondered if now is the time of the pickup driver’s present. Of course, knowing now what I didn’t know then, it makes more sense. Where was I, why wasn’t I in the pickup next to him? I was (am) having the time of my life with my handsome husband taking trips and goofing off at home and having fun with friends both in traveling and in home get-togethers. I happen to know that Jerome, after we broke up, rebounded to his best friend’s big sister and ended up knocking her up. I heard something about her telling him that precautions weren’t necessary because it was “medically impossible” for her to get pregnant. She explained the pregnancy by telling him that he must have some seriously lethal sperm so he walked around proudly saying, “Yeah, I’m the man! I’m the man!” (Typical him.) They got married in a small ceremony in his parents’ church when their daughter was very young, and then lightning struck in the same place twice as she once again got pregnant. The lie must’ve been apparent THEN, cuz she got her tubes tied after the second one. His parents didn’t like the union, didn’t like the age difference (she is older), didn’t like the racial difference (he’s Chinese; she’s Honduran), didn’t like the fact that they clearly had premarital sex (the parents are very religious and always preached to him about keeping his hands to himself), didn’t like that she was big, wasn’t college-educated, didn’t have a lucrative or prestigious career, didn’t come from a well-off family. They also didn’t like ME cuz I wasn’t good enough for their son, despite the fact that I straightened him out, got him to stop smoking and drinking (he was underage) and helped get him transferred into UCLA, where I was a student at the time. I reviewed his admission essay, application, hooked him up with the right people for recommendation letters, etc. But as soon as he got with the big sister, they partied together, drank, he picked up smoking again, because she made it a point that she was going to be exactly the opposite type of girlfriend that I was. And of course, she got pregnant (whereas I left him a virgin). She also made up a bunch of lies about me and talked crap about me with Jerome, wanting him to hate me, because in their early dating stage he’d broken things off with her and tried to get back with me (I’d ignored his attempts, which you’d think she’d be grateful for, but it apparently gave her a complex). His mom also treated me like crap. I remember, toward the end of our relationship, my driving Jerome back to their home after a day of my showing him around UCLA so he could buy the proper books and things to begin school there, and seeing his mother on the porch. I walked up and greeted her VERY politely in Mandarin. She completely ignored me, looked the other way, and called out to someone on the other side of her, thereby dismissing me. I left very quickly after that despite Jerome’s begging me to stay awhile. She had a large part of why I ultimately broke up with him; I didn’t think their own parenting failures should’ve been my problem, especially when I was not being appreciated for all the efforts I had put into their son. And he had serious issues.

So yeah, karma did her thing. I know about his lifestyle from mutual friends, and I’m happy I’m not still there. But I kinda wish I could be there when future Jerome drives his pickup one day and stares across a crowded street at past Jerome, makes eye contact with past Cindy, and realizes that she knew then who he was.

THE COMPUTER PROJECT. The desktop computer at home (where we have all our trip photos) is having major issues. The month-old two terrabyte hard drive began loading sluggishly, and audible clicks could be heard as it spun, looking for data. The concensus is that the hard drive is on the verge of crashing. Mr. W backed up the data and we went to a computer store to look into returning the old one and/or buying a new one. Since he didn’t have the receipt, he bought a new hard drive and for the first time, purchased the extended warranty. While there, he discussed the symptoms with a store techie, and learned that his particular motherboard causes problems on high density hard drives (hence clicking), so the only way to cure this is to buy a new updated motherboard ($$), which means he’ll have to update his processor chip to support the new motherboard ($$), and that means his memory should be updated, too ($$). And of course he has to replace the crashing hard drive ($). Meanwhile, he’s installed the new hard drive and is in the process of transferring data from the old to the new, to buy a little time. For me, it means I have to wait a bit until I can finish my French Polynesia vacation posts since I have one more island port, Moorea, to cover and the day we came home from the island of Tahiti.

THE INSANITY PROJECT. The makers of the P90X workout, Beachbody, listened to people complain about not having the pull-up bar or dumbbell equipment to do the intense-but-effective sessions, so they came up with Insanity. Every bit as psychotic and vomit-inducing as P90X, Insanity uses only one’s own body weight and gravity for resistance. Sounds great, but I think Insanity may be even more hardcore than P90X because it’s designed for a 60-day cycle, instead of the 90 of P90X. That both scares and excites me. I have the kit at home and am about to begin. I’m also counting on this to get me prepared for the Marine Corps Obstacle Course Challenge in September.

THE BABY PROJECT. I haven’t talked about this in specifics, yet, so here it is, for the benefit of my obsessive record-keeping and because when I searched for information, I found very little of it, so this may benefit others in our shoes. Some years ago B.C. (Before Cindy), Mr. W lost his mind (or perhaps he was being mind-controlled like a zombie) and had a vasectomy. I didn’t take our relationship very seriously initially because marriage and kids were not part of the equation for him. It wasn’t that I was set on getting married and popping out children, but I wanted the option, as I had explained to many friends that first year Mr. W and I were “hanging out.” On our 1-year anniversary, Mr. W started talking about wanting to give me “a real commitment.” I told him that was unnecessary as I didn’t believe he was any less committed as my boyfriend as he would be as my husband. The man was committed from day 1, more so than I was, except for some computer games but that’s a whole other addiction. Year 2, he started talking about possible children together. My parents were, of course, pushing for some sort of outcome to this relationship because they didn’t want me to die alone (I know, Asian fatalist gene). Mr. W’s thoughts were about artificial insemination by a family member, and one of his brothers seemed amenable to it. That way, he figured, the genetics would still be the same, or similar enough. I was not thrilled about having the conversation later in life when I would have to tell my kid, “Dad is really Uncle W, and Uncle X is really Dad, and Cousin Y is really half-sister Y, but I’m still mom…” It’s hard enough to have to re-assess and re-identify one’s own parent(s) (I think it’ll happen involuntarily), but an entire extended family, too? This kid would go nuts for awhile. Mr. W seemed to understand this and appeared open to an anonymous donor. Around this time I happened to have dinner with two doctor friends, Lily (radiologist) and Arnold (cardiologist). I blubbered about this obstacle, and both just stared back at me across the booth at Claim Jumper. They didn’t see the big deal.
“But he had a vasectomy!” I repeated.
“So?” Arnold said lightly. This is when I found out that he had taught fertility prior to going into cardiology. Apparently (apparent to him, not to me), modern medicine and technology have found a way to just go into the scrotum with a tiny syringe, before the area where the vasectomy had disconnected the vas deferens, and extract some swimmers. What happens after that was unclear to me, but I was hoping they could just use whatever they extract and put it in fluid like a donor sample, and “turkey baster” me (I think that was how Arnold characterized it). He did warn me that a smaller percentage of men, especially if they’ve had the procedure done awhile back, develop antibodies to their own sperm as a way for the body to get rid of free-roaming critters that have nowhere to go. Arnold’s lack of being impressed by our predicament gave me (and Mr. W) hope, Mr. W proposed at the end of Year 2, I accepted, and we were married on our 3rd year anniversary.
I dragged my feet on the baby thing, enjoying my lifestyle too much. Mr. W enjoyed our vacations as well, but time was more pressing for him because of the age difference. He told me a few times that I better figure out whether I want a baby because he’s not getting any younger. So somehow, we figured that we’d take our last two kid-unfriendly vacations this year (the hedonistic Polynesian vacation was #1; high-adventure Australia late fall would be #2) and then have a baby. We would be married a little over 2 years then.
I’m going to get into detail about the fertility process, so if you’re interested, click “more,” below.
(more…)

Today was a leisurely day of nothing in particular. The only solid plans Mr. W and I had was to attend a friend and coworker’s artist’s boutique show in Laguna Beach. I bought a packet of stickers from her, a citrus-scented room diffuser from someone who made her own perfumes and bath products, and a beautiful earth-toned string of pearls for my mom from a jeweler craftswoman. Here’s me with the artist Jax.

Since we were in Laguna Beach, we decided to wander and enjoy the sunny day. We window-shopped around the beach stores and ended up at The Cliff, a beachside restaurant, for an early dinner. Here’s our seat.

The restaurant seating borders some small boutique shops, where I bought a pretty blue cat-eye toe ring. Mr. W says that I actually have a very hippy philosophy and make a great hippy. I begged to differ, claiming I’m too conservative. He started ticking off my hippy traits. I’m all for protecting the environment, I’m shunning red meat, I’m anti-big-business — I stopped him here and confessed I recently bought something at WalMart. But I do now have a toe ring. We window-shopped our way back to the car, and decided to find me a rash guard for our Tahiti trip, just so I don’t get completely burned to a crisp while snorkeling. The local shops surprisingly didn’t offer much selection, if any, and we decided instead to drive to REI. Turned out, REI was closed early. I suggested Sports Authority, where we found a slightly better selection and I bought a blue Body Glove long-sleeved rash guard. I also saw some athletic two-piece swimsuits, and I’d been looking for something supportive and flat to fit underneath the rash guard, so I got a new bikini as well. Talk about spending a lot of money without planning to.

On the drive home, Mr. W was tapping out the rhythm of the song we were listening to on my knee, and he said rather suddenly, “You know…I’m the happiest right now that I can remember ever being in my entire life.”
I sheepishly closed my cell phone, on which I was checking email. “Right now? Like, in this car?”
“No,” he said. “In like the past year. And I’ve been alive a loooong time, so this must have something to do with you.” He patted my knee playfully.
“Wow.” I blinked. “That’s the nicest thing that anyone’s ever said to me.” And then something else occurred to me. “But you have a horrible memory, so that doesn’t mean anything,” I said as I popped my cell phone back open again. Mr. W laughed good-naturedly.

But really, I think that comment even beats the last nicest-thing-anyone’s-said-to-me. Yup, life’s pretty good. The only thing that could make it better would be if I dropped those laaaaast few pounds until my goal (which is 118 lbs) before vacation. I dumped weight like crazy when I started a little over a month ago, and it’s slowed down dramatically. I’ve gotta stop making stuff like this for dinner:
Before…tomato sauce, organic mushrooms, organic baby spinach, cheddar cheese, parmigiano reggiano cheese, black olives, minced garlic, sitting on some dough.

After…last night’s homemade dinner with a crispy crust!!

I think I’m gonna have tea for dinner.

I haven’t had much computer access this week since my work CPU completely blew over the weekend, but now I have a new computer at work (sweet!) and McAfee is working again (apparently some programming glitch in its automatic updates blitzed a bunch of corporate computers yesterday and today, which includes half the courthouse’s CPUs), so this will be a catchup post of sorts. Oh, and hurray, my mouse now goes left! (The previous mouse had decided that “left” was no longer a direction it needed to go, and when I complained, I was immediately made fun of for even having a trackball mouse.)

This is my current favorite photo of our newest member of the family, baby Elle.

On the baby front, an ultrasound has determined that I’m reproductively healthy with “plenty of eggs,” so that gives me some peace of mind. I’d always wondered whether I was infertile or something since I’d never had a pregnancy accident. Turns out, I’m just not careless. So we’re thinking we’ll hit up a crazy adventure vacation in Australia/New Zealand and dive the Great Barrier Reef in late October, then settle down and make a baby after. Unfortunately, this brings my birthing age to 35, but it’s better than being pregnant IN Australia. =P

I had a great furlough day yesterday hanging with my old buddy Joe and having a seaside brunch in Laguna Beach. He’s one of few people who would walk with me just to walk, so we chatted while we put in a solid 2 hours walking around the shops in Laguna after eating. Secretly, I had wanted to walk off my mimosa before getting back in my car, but turned out he had secretly thought the same thing of me but was too polite to imply I’m a lush. We caught up and shared stories, good laughs, some good scoffs.

I went home and made a Mediterranean pie for dinner that made Mr. W’s eyes roll into his skull upon eating it. I love that my husband isn’t a picky eater and always loves everything I put together.

Mr. W and I had just spent a whirlwind weekend in Vegas. My father-in-law had hip replacement surgery last Wednesday, so Mr. W and I drove to see him on Saturday morning. My stepkidlet rearranged her work shifts so that she could come with us. My father-in-law is a trooper; he did everything he was supposed to, got up and walked around a couple of days post-surgery, and was discharged earlier than anticipated. Everyone was comfortable enough with his recovery that when Mr. W’s Gamer Bro scored 5 free tickets to see a singing act at the Las Vegas Hilton, the three of us went with Gamer Bro and his wife.

I’m now on Week 5 of the cold-turned-sinus-infection. Most of the symptoms are gone now, but I still get coughing fits (probably due to post-nasal drip). Tuesday, I hacked so hard at the gym that I threw up into my workout towel. Good thing I hadn’t eaten all day so it wasn’t a painful sort of vomiting. =P The antibiotics are all finished, so I should probably be replenishing my probiotics now. It also means I can drink, so I had a little something in the past few days; nigori sake with sushi on Monday, margarita on Taco Tuesday at Sharkees in Huntington Beach (we met up with a couple of Mr. W’s friends there since we had to go pick up our Tahiti travel docs in HB), and of course my mimosa with brunch on Wednesday in Laguna Beach. (Yeah, life’s good.) This morning I was stupid enough to go chew on some peanut taffy when visiting in another courtroom. The syrupy sweetness rolled down my already raw throat and I started coughing, gagging, convulsing. One bailiff offered to Heimlich me. I finally had some water and spit out the mouthful of candy. Okay, thanks up there; I’ll take the hint. I have no business eating candy when bikini days are just over a week away.

I was chatting with a friend the other day via text. She’s in a bad-timing rut, where it seems like everything that could go wrong are all hitting at the same time. I told her to grit her teeth and bear thru the storm, and gave her a happiness challenge. I suggested that she write a list of small easy things that make her happy, such as a hot mug of Starbucks coffee on a rainy lunchtime (it’s been raining off and on for a few weeks now, with lots of sunlight in-between; things are lovely and green!), and to do one of those items each day. She agreed, and I offered to join her in this challenge. Things I’ve thought of so far that make me happy are
* a cocktail with someone whose company I enjoy
* driving and exploring a new local area
* trying out a new restaurant
* spa-day!
* sushi
* listening to 90s R&B and hip-hop while dancing along in my car
* spooning Dodo
I remember when I was having a really bad time some years ago, and my cousin Jennifer advised me to not think about the other person or give him any consideration, and instead go do something that purely makes me happy. Sounded good, but I came up with nothing. I decided then to take better notice of things that made me happy — things that don’t involve a significant other, or even another person, necessarily. Everyone should have a simple hedonistic pleasure once in a while, just as a fluffer to life. …Or something less tasteless.

My Floridian nurse-sister Jordan posted a photo of us in Vegas and said that it was her favorite photo of us. I reciprocated by posting a photo of us on a Dr. Seuss kiddie ride in Florida, saying it was one of my favorites of us. On this ride, you sit in a big fish that spins in a circle and you can control your fish’s up-and-down movement to either avoid or go into streams of water that are randomly squirted from the mouths of other fish on the perimeter of the ride. So here’s the ensuing conversation.

Jordan: let’s do that again!
Cindy: we really need to! we didn’t explore NEARLY enough of the parks to my little heart’s content!!
Cindy: ooh, we’d need to do that soon, tho. =P
Jordan: well… at least up until your 7th month of pregnancy 🙂 just no roller coasters or things like that. But I think we can get squirted on from a fish… while sitting in a fish.
Cindy: I thought flying was the problem.
Jordan: yeah when you’re about to deliver… I’ll be the one traveling west at that point missy
Cindy: I thought you’re the one with all the good doctors and stuff! Don’t let them give me an epidural.
Jordan: I’m going to block any attempts at epidurals for you my friend… i want you to experience the JOY of labor! Just so you can say later on.. oh, in about 15 years “I went through 10 hours of HARD labor.. with NO epidural and NOTHING for pain for YOU!!… YOU!! DO. YOU. HEAR. ME?!!!” somethin’ like that.
Cindy: “You know why you’re so smart, you and your smart-ass back-talk? Because I REFUSED to take an epidural thru all FOURTEEN minutes of labor, so that YOU wouldn’t be doped up when you arrived, so that YOUR IQ wouldn’t suffer!! DO.YOU.HEAR.ME???”
Jordan: “Yeah! take THAT!” we could keep going you know…
Jordan: wait. 14 minutes? BAH HA HA HA HA HA
Cindy: YOU NEVER KNOW, OKAY?!
Jordan: Ok. *I* never know.. after having 100 kids and watching 10,000 more born. But hey. What do I know. I will spray fairy dust on you in labor? 🙂
Cindy: people thought there’s no such thing as an unstressed bride, but I proved them wrong on that, too!
Jordan: You absolutely can. I will bring crayons with me so that you can print out your delusions and color them yourself. haha.. actually… you’re going to have a fantastic and almost-pain-free labor… I just know it!

The funniest part of this conversation is…I’m not pregnant!

Today is kind of a big day. In the grand scheme of things, it will be just one step toward the myriad paths and jaunts I will soon have open before me. I would like to share my journey publicly, I think it would have some value especially since I didn’t find many personalized road maps and travel stories when I was looking, but I’m unsure of how to share it. For now, I’ll just be happy to be meeting the wizard in a little over an hour. At last, I’ll be among people who possess the magic to decipher all the mysteries thus far written in code. Wish me luck.

Because, like I had mentioned in the previous post, it seems like every time I turn around, another pregnancy announcement is made, I started wondering who would be next. I thought of one couple who got married a little before we did, who as of yet has not made such an announcement. I made the comment that they’ll probably be next. I was then accused of “racing” people.
“Racing…them?” I asked, confused.
Apparently, some people think the only reason why baby thoughts exist in my head is because I’m trying to keep up with the Jones’ Pregnancies. I found this offensive because

1) it implies I compete with what everyone else is doing and I’m just gonna jump on the bandwagon. That is not me; I resist trends if anything, and a huge decision like this is not determined by other people’s lives. When one of my childhood friends were getting married (she was the first in the “group”), my then-boyfriend had said that when I’m standing up there by her during the wedding, I’m gonna be really envious and want to get married myself. I looked at him dubiously and said that I don’t FEEL like I need to be married anytime soon. He said, “Trust me, you will; all women are like that. They watch one of their friends get married and they’re gonna start bugging their boyfriends about it.” Well, he was wrong. On her wedding day, I was happy for her, but I knew it was not for me — at least not then. It stirred no desire in me because it wasn’t my time, and I obviously wasn’t with the right person. It would’ve been crazy to marry the person I happened to be with simply because someone else got married at that time. As for competing with pregnancies, I’d never seen my friends’ pregnancies as pressure for myself; I’ve always seen it as, “Ooh, cool! I’m happy for them! Now that I’m gonna have people in-the-know, I get to find out all sorts of stuff about pregnancy and labor, things my mom wouldn’t tell me because she doesn’t want to scare me away from giving her grandbabies.” I did use them for my personal research, too, and they (especially Christi and my cousin Diana) were very helpful in relaying how bad morning sickness REALLY is, how irresistable cravings REALLY are, how hard it REALLY is to get back in shape, etc.

2) it disregards all the careful thought and consideration I’d put into this baby thing. If I came to this stage of my life thoughtlessly, simply because I’m following suit, I wouldn’t have had gone through so much debating, weighing, projecting immediate and future consequences, imagining, etc. Evidence of this is all over my blog, most explicitly in this post from January of 2009, when I suddenly realized I’m close to my pregnancy-cut-off age. A part of me wishes I were 29, so that I wouldn’t have to think about this stuff. (Mr. W had also said on several occasions after we got married that I’d better figure this baby thing out soon because he’s not getting any younger.)

3) people who would say that about me really don’t know me at all. Not just that, but they also think I’m a mindless trendfollowing drone, and they didn’t take to heart anything I’d ever said on the topic about my thoughts and desires before. That hurts.

I have a secret hope about 2012. I don’t believe it’s going to be the end of the world; I think it’s supposed to be end of the World As We Know It. That’s a good thing, because the World As We Know It is shooting down the crapper with alarming velocity. I don’t have to get into examples, because they’re everywhere; politics, economics, sociology, accountability, responsibility, health…did you guys know that in this generation of American children, chances of getting childhood Type II diabetes is 1 in 3? That’s ridiculous for such a preventable disease. And look what we’re doing to our planet.

Simultaneously, it seems like everyone’s having babies around me. Is it responsible to bring a child into a world like this? What if the world ends in 2 years and I have to worry about a toddler on top of stressing over the safety of my parents, my immediate family, and my cat? I’ve actually had apocalyptic nightmares in which I was okay until I realized I have no idea where Dodo is, whether he got out okay or had drowned, and I would break into panicked hysteria. I imagine it’d be worse worrying about a child. So it’s a good thing the world is not ending in 2 years. It’s merely going to shake off its cancers and carry on with renewed vigor. Right? That would explain the presence of all these children. It seems like 80% of my friends are either pregnant or have recently had a baby. These aren’t just newlyweds from all the weddings I’d attended in the past couple of years, some of these are people who have been married for up to a decade or more and suddenly find themselves pregnant. A few aren’t even married. What’s with this mad rush to incarnate right now? Do all these souls want to see 2012 from this side of the fence? If that’s the case, then we’re in for something really special.

If the spiritual world wants so badly to be on this side right now, I reasoned with myself, then even with obvious fertility impediments, I should just miraculously find myself pregnant, right? Of course that didn’t happen. I may not have the urgency of a spiritual being in fetal form pushing on me to bring it into physical existence, but I do feel a different kind of influence. It is that influence, every bit as urgent intangibly as it may be to my friends physically, that propelled me to action today. It had been floating for awhile, taking more form in conversations in the past weeks, and had nearly solidified in serious discussions over the past few days. We’ll see what this all means soon.

From the time I booked the vacation cruise (the day I decided on a 10lb weight loss goal) till a week after, I dropped 5 lbs. Most of that was likely water weight, it was just how timing worked out with my usual hormonal fluxes. Now the second week has gone by, and I’d lost…1. 🙁 That’s pretty discouraging, but I tell myself I still have 32 days from today to lose the final 4. (Now I sound like the Bruins the last time we made it to NCAA. =P)

I’ve been doing some pretty clean eating and stepping up the frequency of exercise. This weekend, I stopped by the mall just for something to do after I visited the dealership to get my car’s navigation system updated (hooray, I see streets again!), since Mr. W was off mountain biking in some local terrain. I tried on two pairs of nice work-friendly trousers in what I figured my size was, size 4. They both fit comfortably, and one was a little TOO comfortable. When I leaned forward, I could see straight down my butt. So I swapped it out for a size 2, which was still comfortable, and this time not so baggy. I went home elated, thinking I dropped down a size. 😀

When I hung up these new pants in the closet later, I casually checked the size tags of some other pairs of similar pants I had purchased years ago from this same clothing store. Those were all size 2! Did I then go UP a size to be comfortable in a pair of size 4?! 🙁

I wish I’d taken fat percentage measurements two weeks ago so I can tell progress for sure. I’m okay not losing 10 lbs on the scale if I’ve carved out 10 lbs of fat. It’s supposed to rain again Wednesday and Thursday, and Wednesday is one of my usual running days (M, W, F). Now I’ll have to run today, Tuesday and Friday to make up for the loss of Wednesday and Thursday, in addition to the gym at lunchtime. Another wrench in the gears right now is that I appear to be going through my third allergy attack, ever. My throat’s itchy and scratchy, I’m hacking out a lung, I’m dehydrated from the loss of fluid out my nose. Thank you, Santa Ana Winds and all the rain this year that has fed weeds and created pollen to be lifted from all the plants out there straight into my nostrils.

This creates a challenge, but this challenge will not be a blockade! I WILL run! I WILL strive! I will lose to win! *raising both fists triumphantly in the air* 😀
…I think I’m a little high from Claritin.

On an online social forum just now:

Cindy keeps seeing signs everywhere that she shouldn’t bear children. Hubby claims it’s just cuz she’s “looking for them.”
Comments:
* Chad: The thought of you having offspring doesn’t give me the creeps or anything, if you were wondering.
* niece Jessica: I want another baby in the fam =]] Your next, so stop looking for signs
* Christi: like what?!
* me: Chad – does the thought of ANYONE having offspring give you the creeps, tho?
Jessi – you guys aren’t done yet with baby phases at your neck of the woods!
Christi – okay, it’s not so much “signs,” as information and experiences from other people (suddenly everywhere, it seems) that make me wince, whimper, and yell “uncle.”
* niece Jennifer: Well you had a little practice with Lydia and you did fine. Once you have that little one in your arms the motherly instinct kicks in and it’s the most wonderful feeling ever! I agree…stop looking for signs!!!!
* niece Jessica: And I agree w. Jenni…It will all kick in when you are holding our little cousin in your arms =]]
* Claudio: Just keep any future children away from chia seeds and you’ll be fine.
[Sidenote: yesterday morning I announced online how my chia seeds-in-boiling-water exploded in their glass container and gave me a painful red burn mark on my thigh]
* me: See!! There’s another sign RIGHT THERE!! *pointing at Claudio’s comment* How can I pass on my nutritional values to my offspring if I have to keep them away from chia seeds? *chugging another mouthful of warm chia, which I stirred this morning instead of shook*
* Claudio: Tío Claudio will teach nutrition and core strength training… He is allergic to diapers, however.
* me: Okay, then you’re excused from having to wear one this weekend when we run.
* Claudio: I better still bring it. I am really only allergic to children diapers.
* me: Okay, then bring me one, too. It might be a looooong run.
[Sidenote: See? What kind of mother TALKS like this?!]
* attorney friend Albert: Cindy: How’s this for a sign? My wife and I have 0 kids; and 5 trips to Asia, about 10 to Europe, plus excursions in the States. So, you can pay for day care and school, or pay a travel agent to go somewhere fun with the hubby. Just sayin’!
* me: that’s exactly one of them, Albert. We’ve got two 2-week vacays coming up and we’re thinking, “We have to make these ‘good’ ones, cuz after that, all the money will be spent on baby needs!”
also, a lot of people around me are having issues parenting teenagers right now. That scares me.
* Claudio: Albert makes a very compelling argument.
* attorney friend Albert: Every parent I know has issues parenting; nobody is an expert, and you just go in and do the best you can. The fact that you are worried and concerned means that you’ll do fine as a parent. I’d avoid teaching the kid about the chia seeds, though; they’d prefer pizza from Chuck E. Cheese.
* me: NO FAST FOOD!!! NO!!!
Cheetos, maybe.
I’m totally concerned. I have a feeling that, since I’m neurotic (*sideglance at Claudio*), that once I pop the baby out into the world, I will never sleep at night again. Even if that kid is 25 and living in its own residence. I’ll be up at night wondering whether he/she got home all right from work and/or a date and/or the bar, and whether I ought to wake up and drive over to the kid’s residence just to check and make sure his/her car’s there so I know all is well. And while I’m there I’ll just peek in his/her fridge to make sure he/she has enough food and is eating the right things. And I may as well check the closets to make sure clothing is sufficiently warm and also to make sure there aren’t things belonging to an opposite sex in there.
(my mom did that, altho she did it in the open)
* attorney friend Albert: And that’s where a good husband comes in; to keep you from going overboard. But, like I said, there’s a lot to be said for being the cool aunt who travels and does all sorts of fun things. Tough decision, Cindy.
* me: What if my kid hates me? What if my kid thinks I’m a moron? What if my kid picks up bad grammar from hubby and does away with adverbs altogether? What if my kid inherits the bad temper from dad and the long memory from me so it stays angry all the time? What if my kid wants to go to USC? …omg, I can’t even think about the last one… *sob!*
* Joe: What if he’s a girl and not a boy and really confuses everything? What if you don’t know you have had a kid until years later, oh wait that’s not really possible for you, however what if? What if you adopt? What if you don’t stress out worring about all those little silly thing and hope for the best, expect the worst and take it as it comes? It’s the biggest mistery. Maybe it’ll be a Gator?
* me: Well, that’s the kind of thinking you do if you know you’re having a kid. While I’m making a decision, I get to consider more factors. I’m okay if it’s a Gator, then Aunt Jordan can keep an eye on him/her. I’m NOT okay with it being a ‘Cane.
* Chad: What if your kid is completely neurotic and worries about miniscule details he can’t control?
* me: Oh, crap.
* me: See, I can prevent all this by not having a kid.
* attorney friend Albert: At some point, your kid will hate you; that’s temporary. The kid may think you’re a moron, and that one may be permanent. Adverbs are overrated; do you really want your kid to talk like William F. Buckley? Anger merely means you care. And you should get down on your knees and thank Providence if your offspring has the gumption and good breeding to wish to attend USC.
* me: It was sounding good until the last line.
* attorney friend Albert: See! You’re soooooooooooo ready for parenthood!
* Joe: Are you prego?
* me: Joe – nope. which is why I’m weighing this stuff on the pro/con scale right now, while I can still do something about it.
* me: I think a lot of this comes from my not being the type of person I think a parent should be right now. I ought to have my act “cleaned up” if I’m gonna be responsible for raising and being a good example to another human being, but I’m not sure I can, or that I’m selfless enough to want to.
* Joe: Ok I concur with that. Quit the crack and focus on life and career. Good thinking. Thats your 1st step toward responsible parenting.
* attorney friend Albert: I think that you’re trying to be perfectly ready to be a parent. That’ll never happen. You can’t be a parent, and be a perfectionist. Those are mutually exclusive. Your child, while a blend of you and hubby, is a unique, sentient being, with drives all his/her own. You will screw up; you will make mistakes. But, if you try to do the best you can, and you love that child with all of your heart, that’s all any child can ask of any parent. Just lighten up on the Trojans, and really rethink the whole chia seed thing.
* Claudio: You are sooooo not neurotic. *sideglance*
* niece Jennifer: Cindy no one is ever ready enough to be a parent. It only matters that you do your best. A bond between mother and child is a strong one. It is a love that is like no other. It is unconditional. I never knew I could love someone so much until Lydia.
* high school acquaintance Danielle (who has published books on pregnancy): Adopt!
* me: Joe – thanks for the support.
Albert – that’s actually…really comforting.
Claudio – >=6
Jenni – I think that’s what my mom keeps counting on, but knowing I’m not close to her scares me about my ability to be close to my future kid.
Danielle – I did briefly think about all those little girls in China nobody wants cuz they want boys.

…I think this conversation is still continuing. But I have a baby shower to attend at lunchtime.