side down

sorry team...but i'm in a play!!!! and the show is everything right now, and we haven't started doing anything with jiz yet. so let me juz get through opening night tonight and rock the house and then we'll get my woman pregnant. she is going really well with her cycle, btw. we are officially dealing with polycystic ovaries (coz we had things so easy before, the university sent us some obstacles). but we are feeling hopeful, and KT is not eating anything nice and we are putting it out there to the university that donor dad will not be a cystic fibrosis carrier (coz we recently learned that KT is -so we have to be sure that DD is not-coz the university thought those girls have been filthy lezzos for years now and deserve some obstacles).

i don't mean any of that. I don't think the university thinks.I am a crazy MF today. use it on stage, i tell myself...

anyway thanks for your patience. and don't even talk to me about patience...

mothers day

I've been feeling a bit bitter about the whole thing lately. The plans and the waiting and the obstacles KT and I have faced. Well, sad. I was in Myer in Hornsby the other day. Um, I did actually grow up in the old Horner, but that is no reason to go there on a Friday morning at age 35 and look for a mothers day gift. My mother, despite saying clever, witty things like " The good thing about Hornsby is that you can always leave.", insists on going back there monthly to see her old doctor. So I was in Hornsby Myer looking at disgusting dressing gowns and I saw -across the way in the kids section- a sleeveless parker for a two or three year old. It was gorgeous and I wanted to buy it. And a sob came up and a quick tear came out, and then I was fine.

It was ok. I'm ok with this sadness. I think it means I'm alright. It is quite thorough and sometimes productive (unlike the deadening, useless feeling of depression). Sadness of this sort often comes in big shops, I find, like I am a character in a television series. I feel like a "woman". I had a seriously big cry in the knitting section of Liverpool spotlight once. Liverpool is where I was, two and a half years ago, when the first miscarriage started. I spent deathly minutes looking for a medical centre there and talking to a very odd doctor who told me to drive myself home but not to go over any bumps. So I went through a "Nam Flashback" phase whenever I revisited Liverpool for a while there, but I am past that now. The good thing about Liverpool is you can always stage a production of The Leaving of Liverpool.

We went Camping at Easter

And a Fairy Godmother turned up and said "Give me a pumpkin and I will turn it into the biggest tent in the world."

So our tent was the biggest tent in the world and we pitched it by a river and we lived happily ever after.

we are not alone

Obviously. But- just quickly - Me mrs (she's very smart) well, she got in contact with someone who knew some other lezzos who had a baby or two with some other gayboes.

And then, she - me mrs - got in email contact with one of the other lezzos (the smarter one, probably, not the lazy one who probably blogs badly about their adventures but acheives little else) and asked her about her experience with familying with two new people who you only met in order to family. And actually her email (which my mrs forwarded on to me, but she didn't read it aloud...hmmm) was quite insightful and interesting. They are poms, from what I gathered. I think they mentioned Tescos or Double Decker Buses or "heading off darn the offy".

The good lezzo mum said: be up front about everything from the start, basically. Great advice. We are due a proper chat with our boys. And time to start getting things down on paper.

We are having a lovely time with our gaybo dads. I am feeling warmer towards them every time I see them.

We haven't started trying yet. We are thinking of me mrs taking her temp in the morning and handing the thermometer straight to me without looking at it. I will record the temps and chart her cycle. She can therefore stop obsessing/stressing about it and therefore kind of sabotaging it.

I can't bring myself to go into detail about the stress-sabotage relationship. I did, however, write a fucking thesis on it a couple years a fucking go when I first started this blog and I had had one miscarriage and I was trying to get pregnant. So that is where I direct you if you're into reading about pain and frustration. Now I am seeing a very similar thing only it is me Mrs and not me and also we are not pissing hundreds of dollars darn the drain on those fucking ovulation kits that you piss on/up the wall/off the wall/off your face/fucked.

Ambiviland

Its a weird, weird thing that my mrs and I are doing. We had to go out into the world and find people to father our children.To help us make humans. And raise them. Think about that. You have to raise kids with someone but not know them at all till you start. Bloody gruelling time searching and we'll never know if we made the "right" choice in some ways because because because because because.

Because we feel the pressure of two biological clocks.
Because we didn't meet and love these men for fifteen years and consider them family before talking about parenting with them.

We found the lads in the end. And that has been great and also really weird and challenging. We've gone on several dates with them now and had lots of talks about child-rearing and time allocations and stuff. KT wrote everything down on paper and printed everything out 4 times and then we talked about everything again and had some difficult conversations about religion and now we have to print everything out on paper again so everyone is clear. And it can't possibly ever be clear because the whole thing is theoretical because there are no children. And we have no short-hand with these men. And long-hand is so humourless and stressful sometimes.

But the lads got my mother's stamp of approval on Monday night. Major event- the beginning of the introductions. It was a lovely time over at the old lady's house. We didn't talk about children or ovulation or religion and while some things are still up in the air we had a good old fashioned cuppa tea and cat patting session while the old lady made a cushion cover out of an old cardigan. There were some good easy vibes in the room and plently of laughs. They are very generous and lovely guys.

KT is at acupuncture as we speak and maybe they will say something positive like "go for it".
We are talking about going for it next cycle regardless of their permission just to have a practise go. Both of us are probably secretly remembering when we had that first practise go years ago with original Donor Dad and me and I got up the duff like quite a lot of dropped hats. And we are thinking that would be a treat if that happened. Maybe we are thinking that. Maybe we are not.

I.D

Oh BTW here is a photo of me on my recent jaunt to Windy Wellington in case you wanted to know what I looked like now that I am not being so annonymous.

You can even see KT in the reflection of my mirrored shades. She is wearing a sexy mask in preparation for my Oscar nomination, so her identity remains a secret.

It will just be an honour to get a nod, it's not about the gong.

Blog on, aussie, blog on

One of the things about blogs is that people end up perhaps reading them and then you think "shit, people are reading this, I have to alter what I am saying and become heaps self conscious " and I think that's a real shame. I'm not worried about offending anyone, but I would like the opportunity to bitch meanly about people without them being mean back to me. Also one of the things that happens is the writer talks about the blog in this way which is also a bit shit. But you'll have to suck it and you know full well you do it yourself.

COMMUNITY SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

The blog Piss on a stick is changing course. No longer will KT180 be an official contributer. I am taking over this blog. She is going to start her own blog, god love her, and keep her annonymity properly cos I am kind of bad at keeping mine and that shouldn't have to affect her/him. I do not know what she intends to do when I become very famous in the next forty years and she is on my arm at the Oscars. We could make her a mask. Like, a sexy one.

I have always been the boss of the blog in my heart so there will be no real major shifts excepts for spelling and punctuation and grammar and sense.

But the wit will remain. Ans the wisdom. And the pith. And the typos.

So rest assured, even though you are much funnier than me, dear reader, that some super reading is coming your way.

This photo is an old photo of my mother. She was really beautiful when she was young. She is still beautiful now, but in an old, hobbledly way. There is no link to the photo and the blog entry. It is the only photo I have on my computer at the moment because even though I just went to New Zealand ( and picked up the accent in 5 days, bro) I havent taken any photos off my camera in ages and this is the photo we are using as the invitation to my mother's 70th birthday party. But you can't come to the party because we have too many people already because my mother is extremely popular and our budget is extremely limited.

No one is pregnant yet. Or even inseminating. I have been consulting the runes, again. They have told me to be patient. I nearly swallowed the remaining bagfull of stones and wandered into the river. Yes, the river.

We are waiting on:

KT's cycle to be slightly more progesterone-ridden

and/or The Will of Heaven

depending on if you are listening to the Acupuncturist or the unswallowed runes.