Hello....is anyone out there?

So I decided to start writing this blog; maybe it will be therapeutic, maybe it will provide an outlet, maybe it will entertain someone.  For whatever reason, self importance maybe, so I can think I am so much cooler than I am, I decided to just go for it.  I am a writer by nature, it’s always been what I like to do, what I am good at.  Of course, that’s legal and analytical writing, not entertainment.  So here it goes I guess, what have I got to lose.

I guess an introduction of sorts is in order.  Just call me K.  I live in the DC suburbs, but am from the NYC suburbs originally – born and bred.  So I have always lived close to the action, but not “in” the action.  I married my college sweetheart, who by the way, was also my junior high sweetheart, and my third grade sweetheart.  Yeah, we are so those people (though not high school sweethearts, thank you very much).  So we’ve been together 13 years, married for 5…and we have 17 month old twins.

Now before you think we live some blessed life, which we do, it is not without it’s share of trials and tribulations.  Those 17 month old twins (a boy and a girl) took about 3+ years of trying to get to.  Lots of the traditional method, lots of ovulation kits, books about “embracing my fertility,” home test kits, lab test kits, an HSG (hysterosalpinogram) from hell (thank you tilted cervix!), diagnosed male factor infertility, one chemical pregnancy, one round of clomid (which by the way makes your skin feel like it’s on fire), three failed IUI’s, lots of injectables, transvaginal ultrasounds every other day during those cycles, blood tests, possible PCOS, possible endometriosis, one round of IVF with ICSI – and finally SUCCESS.  And for those of you who never go through fertility issues – consider yourselves lucky.  Infertility is by far the most isolating, lonely, and depressing thing anyone can ever experience.  And for the record, if you ever experience said issues, I GUARANTEE that everyone you know will turn up pregnant when you can’t get it done.  Just to rub it in…well maybe not purposefully but it sure feels like someone is just giving you a big middle finger.  But I could go on about infertility and all that for hours…

Anyway, we survived…and came out on the other end with the most ADORABLE kids you could wish for… M is the brightest, smartest little girl.  She never stops talking and gives the best kisses.  And B is the sweetest boy, who worships his older sister (by 2 minutes!) and gives the best hugs…but whines like no other (he is male, I suppose).  They are all over the place. 

My husband A…the best man you will ever meet.  He would give anyone the shirt off of his back, even if he just met you.  Of course, if you cross him, watch out.  He has got a vengeful streak.  Luckily, I don’t have to worry much about that…Of course, A got fired/laid off/left his job…whatever you want to call it, back in January.  I convinced him to go back to community college and pursue what he really wants to do with his life…but in the meantime, we need him to find something to pay the bills, keep the kids in school, and such.  ‘Course, the economy sucks, unemployment is raging…it’s a jungle out there…and they ain’t hiring.

Then of course, there is Phoebe, the dwarf beagle.  I kid you not.  I adopted a dog from the local pound (I don’t care what those PETA people say, I went to the kill shelter because, HELLO, isn’t it better to save a dog from certain death, than go to a no kill shelter and save a dog that is destined to live?) and first I almost left with Lucy, the epileptic beagle…my husband talked me out of that one (thank you dear, I owe you…as does Lucy, who otherwise would certainly be dead because I did not give her the antiseizure meds every 12 hours exactly, since I can’t remember to zip my own fly…).  Instead, I left with Phoebe.  At a year old, she seemed small, but it never occurred to me that she was different.  Until we met the beagle down the street…the one that was about 6 inches taller than her…not longer – same size dog, just Phoebe’s legs are literally about 3 inches long.  She looks like a regular beagle, but with these itty bitty legs.  Of course, short dogs are prone to back injuries…wish I knew that sooner.  You know before I spent $2400 on one night in the intensive care ER…followed by a trip to the “pet MRI” and 3 more days in the hospital for a grand total of $7700.  2 herniated discs requiring a neurosurgeon to do spinal surgery.  All for a free dog from the pound.

Good times…

Of course, lastly, there is me.  Middle class, raised as the daughter of a blue collar cop/military man and a retail worker.  One sister (who, by the way, while I hated her growing up – I mean to the point I threw a dining room chair at her, and not one of those light ones, I mean a heavy one – though she earned it, she used to dig her fingernails into my forearm so deep it drew blood…to this day, I can withstand things on my arms like no other) who is my best friend in the entire world.  Growing up, I was the overachiever and the fat friend… she will cringe that I say this-, and she was the thin, pretty, popular one.  As much as we hated each other – I idolized her…and loved when I was a freshman and she was a senior and she drove me to and from school (part of the requirement of mom and dad paying her insurance) so when she went out after school I had to go with her…and for the record, to this day I remain tight (as is she) with the friends who seemed to love me, even if she didn’t.  As the typical smart one, I did all the overachiever things: took honors classes, had a high GPA, went away to college, followed that with law school, graduated with honors, passed the bar (in a foreign state where I was totally unfamiliar with the law) on my first try.  Yeah kinda tooting my own horn here…

So I spend my day defending the civil rights of employees of a very large, we will call it, a non-profit – since it is a nonprofit.  When I get home, I am mom.  Oh, then of course I just applied for a job in my free time.  Wait, did I say free time?  I don’t have free time.  In my after hours…ok, in the time I am not working at my PAID job, I applied for a job with local government (just a contract gig, using my legal background to help employees there).  Clearly I am nuts.  So clearly in between ALL that…I decided, let me start a blog.  What was I thinking….I need a drink….