Got toothpicks?

Alright. The exhaustion has kicked in. I cannot even begin to describe how tired I am feeling right now. I’ve been walking around in a complete foggy daze for the last week and I just can’t drag myself out of it. Last night I walked outside to put a letter in the mailbox and I put it in the trash instead. See what I mean?

The Thomas the Train ticket drama is still on-going. I’ve been fighting with the ticket company for the entire week and last night they finally agreed to refund my service charge. Big flipping deal. The ‘supervisor’ told me that he was not authorized to refund or exchange the tickets and that it had to be authorized through the venue, which had denied my request. So, after hours of haggling, I just gave up and handed the whole mess over to R. He’s calling this morning to fight it out with the venue. I don’t know if it’s because he’s a male or what, but things always seem to get done when he tackles it. I spent probably three hours of my life dealing with this crap and he’ll spend ten minutes on the phone and it’ll get done. Makes me sick to think how little power or influence women have over these situations. It also makes me sick to think how ridiculous this whole situation has become. They’re tickets to a kids event, not to visit the freaking Pope. Trust me, the world will not stop rotating if we change our boarding time from 11:30am to 3:30pm. What is this world coming to???

And so now I’m quickly approaching IUI number two. My FM went up to a high reading this morning, a day earlier than it usually does. I have an ultrasound scheduled for 7:00am tomorrow morning so that they can check to see if I have any follicles developing. The IUI will most likely take place either Saturday or Sunday morning. With the first high reading coming this morning, my money is on Saturday; wouldn’t that just be my luck? After wasting all that time and stress over those freaking tickets, I would ovulate on Saturday and not even need the tickets to be changed? Ah, that would be my luck.

Classes are going well, just kicking my ass in the meantime. Have I mentioned how tired I am? I feel like I need those cartoon toothpicks to keep my eyelids up. Still, I’m officially half-way through the whole ordeal; only five weeks left of this hell.

E, at three-and-a-half, has found his inner sassiness. God, it’s wearing me down. He’s picked up the new habit of ‘bathroom talk’ as he calls it. Every other word out of his mouth is poop or pee-pee or diaper. He thinks it’s just downright hilarious; I think it’s disgusting. I know it’s a phase, but it’s one that I will NOT miss. He’s also developed this amazingly soft and tender side too. We went to a cookout for Father’s Day and C’s eight-month-old grandson was there. E wanted to hold him so bad and every time he fussed or cried, E would coo “Shhh… it’s ok baby. I’m here. It’s ok.” It was enough to make me tear up. He deserves to be a big brother. I’m angry at myself for not being able to give him a sibling. I’m even more furious with myself for having the gall to think that it would happen again so easily for us and for waiting until ‘just the right time’ to try to get pregnant. I had it all planned out that the kids would be three-and-a-half years apart. What a fool. What a completely stupid fool.