New Midlife Mommy

We've Finally Decided

I know that I haven't talked about the donor egg thing in awhile.  That's because we were going back and forth about actually choosing a new donor.  We still have all of our same issues -- DH doesn't really want to do it, but he will do it if I want to.  I suppose there are many who would say that it is irresponsible at my age to have a child, though it has happened from time to time in this world.  My mother would describe those women as having been "caught."

I still have mixed feelings, such as:  Will this screw up our happy lives?  Things are going really, really well; we have a daily rhythm that works for us.  We love our daughter, and she is just starting to become self-sufficient.  I wonder if DD will be a better person with a sibling, or will we harm her in some way by taking away attention from her?  Can we survive that first two years (actually, I think the first 12 weeks, and then months 12-24 are the hardest)?  I also worry, worry, worry about having a child with special needs, because when I look into myself, I question my mettle when it comes to that.  I know that is not the PC thing to say.  But it scares the heck out of me.  And, I do have concerns about the effects of a pregnancy on my body, given all of the things that can go wrong, even though DD's pregnancy was very "low maintenance," according to my OB/GYN (who has since retired from obstetrics -- sigh).  But anyway, it looks as though we are going ahead with our project.

My husband has this whole elaborate thing that he does when choosing a donor -- he selects major categories, assigns point values to the donor responses, and then he totals and sorts the donors.  I just kind of "experience" the candidates and put them in order.  The things that are important to me are ethnic background (I want someone with a background that is the same as DH's and mine), education, and parental/grandparental health issues.  I don't like to see generational alcoholism (or liver disease) for that matter -- losing my mom to liver disease was quite enough for me -- and she wasn't a drinker.  I like to see long lives in the grandparents and good health in the parents, siblings, and the donor.  I also look at someone's interests as well.  And how they describe themselves.  If they've donated before, I want to know how many eggs were produced, and whether or not there was a pregnancy.

DH did his thing, taking all the candidates and ranking them.  His first choice, an engineer, is not available until June.  Not good.  I just don't want to wait that long.  We met with the egg br*ker in November, and I would have started immediately if I'd had my druthers.

This time, I was really only moved by one woman, and she was presented to us after we'd reviewed a large number of candidates.  Actually, this is the same way that it was last time, come to think of it -- only one candidate was really, really appealing to me. 

As it turned out, my first choice was DH's second choice.  I was really excited about her.  She is a nurse in a surgical ICU.  I just kind of clicked with her when she was first presented to us.  I thought she would be really motivated to move ahead, because she wanted to use the money from egg donation to pay for her master's program in nursing.  But, she stopped returning the egg br*ker's calls, so I guess that means she's not interested, at least for the time being.  We were told that she had a really hectic schedule before the holidays.  Maybe she just wasn't up to it.  But she could have returned the f*cking calls to say she wasn't interested so that we could have moved on rather than waiting and waiting and waiting to see if she would sign her contract and provide a picture.

I would have gone back to the other candidates that we had, but the br*ker gave us another new option.  And DH ranked her as a tie for second place.  She is OK, really, though I'm not as excited as I was by the first candidate, and I don't quite know why.  But I do want to get moving on this, and honestly, it really doesn't matter -- a healthy baby is what we are after.

Our new candidate is 27, and she has my coloring and build.  She is mostly my ethnic background, though she is Dutch as well.  Neither DH nor I have any Dutch in our background.  I guess I will explain why that bothers me a little in another post.  Nothing against the Dutch -- honest!  It just complicates things a bit.

Our candidate is interested in sports (unlike me), the theater (I like watching, not doing), and the outdoors (not me again).  She plans to go to medical school, and her undergraduate degree will be in physiology (almost finished).  Her father has a drinking problem, but only since retirement.  Her grandparents lived long lives for the most part, except for her paternal grandfather, who died at 49 of lung cancer (he was a heavy smoker).  No allergies (unlike me).

This will be her first donation.  That makes me a little nervous, because you can never know how someone will react to the medications.  Hopefully, she will be a good responder.  We also don't know if she will pass the basic FDA-required blood tests.  Our clinic also tests for cystic fibrosis, even though that's not required by the FDA (and why not???).  Since she's never donated before, we are going to try karyotyping (genetic testing).  The egg br*ker said that it would cost around $600.  Should there be a problem with the results, we will be matched with another donor at no additional charge.

If you knew me IRL, you would know that I have no patience.  And I hate having things that are out of my control.  So, why the Lord visited infertility on me is something of a mystery.  It's very frustrating, and most things are absolutely not in my control.

One of the things that is absolutely ticking me off right now is waiting for the donor to get in to see the doctor for her first examination.  When I followed up with the egg br*ker, she said that she would tell the donor to make the appointment after she received our $1,000 check for her administrative fee.  WTF?  In a perfect world, the donor wouldn't have been presented to us without having gone through her initial screening appointment, where she is screened for some basic things (STD's, for example).  This should not have anything to do with receiving our check!  But apparently it did.  Granted, we did send the check quickly, and the egg br*ker said that she would tell the donor to make the appointment. 

You know, I write these posts over many days, because it's hard to squeeze the time in to do it.  I just learned this evening that the donor has scheduled her appointment for Thursday.  I do hope that it goes well.  I've asked to be advised when the test results are in, and I'm not sure of the timing for the karyotyping.  I still need to call the clinic and find out if there are any tests they would like me to take, though I doubt it, given that we've just been through two FETs, the last one as recently as October.

So, here we go again.  It doesn't feel real yet.  But I know that it will soon.  And, I hope that I'm making the right decision for us.  Someone once told me that you never regret the children that you have.  I'm banking on that being true.

An Ungrateful Child

This post is not about my daughter.  She's not even old enough to be ungrateful.  Nope.  It's about me.  A rant.  A venting of sorts.

Every Sunday since the week after my mother was buried, I have spent the afternoon at my father's house.  Between work, caring for my daughter, a long commute, blah, blah, blah, Sunday afternoon -- during nap time -- was the only block of time that was mine.  All mine.  Now this time belongs to my father.  For a long time into the foreseeable future.

I really, really love my mother.  In life, she was my friend.  But she was human, like the rest of us.  With faults.  Procrastination.  Tardiness.  And hoarding, oh Lord, the hoarding.  Literally, I think my mother kept every magazine and newspaper that she ever received.   And she lived in the same house with my father for fifty years, with never an opportunity to move and purge.

My father was never allowed a closet.  And only part of a dresser.  My mother filled every other nook and cranny in their house with stuff.  It's a small house, about 1200 square feet.  But it has an attic and a basement, each of almost equal size.  You'd be surprised how much stuff you can put into a small house without much effort.  Especially when you have no qualms about piling things to the ceiling in the unused rooms.

I remember talking to her about this, and telling her that I knew that I would be angry with her for leaving us with such a mess to deal with after she was gone.  I told her that I wanted her to know this, because I knew that those feelings would come, and I didn't want to feel guilty for being angry.  She knew.  She said that she was trying.  But, she was sick with liver disease and other health problems toward the end, and honestly, I don't think she was capable of really getting rid of things even when she was feeling well.  She swore that she was going to "go through" all of these things.  Sometimes, there was evidence of that.  We have found thousands of clippings relating to nothing in particular, indicating that she did go through some of the newspapers.  And recipes, oh, the recipes.  She spent months of her life handwriting her recipes.  But she never got around to making them.

She made me promise that I would go through everything for her.  And she made my dad promise that he wouldn't throw anything out without my seeing it.  It really does make sense.  My father, and my brother, see very little sentimental value in anything, and they are so intent on trashing everything, that they wouldn't notice if there was an important legal document mixed in with the papers. 

They don't have the patience to sort through knotted plastic bags containing old bills, newspapers, magazines, recipes, and old photographs.  My mother didn't discriminate at all when it came to these plastic grocery bags -- there are always little treasures among the trash.  A picture taken on my godmother's wedding day.  Her note to my father as she waited in the hospital for me to be born.  All so precious.  All so carelessly kept.  And I have been angry with her for this, as I knew I would.  And I've screamed it out loud, when I'm alone in my car so no one can hear.  Because, after all, it's crazy to yell at your dead mother.  And it is probably unkind as well.

My brother and I still aren't talking.  But my father tells me that he's been spending his Friday nights there, trying to clear a pathway in the basement.  Doing all the really awful jobs, like removing the moldy, water-soaked newspapers and fabric from the storage closet under the stairs in the basement.  No one knew that the basement sealer had stopped working.  But it had.  And it ruined everything that was hidden there for lo these many years.  If there was treasure there, it is gone now.

In addition to the cleaning, both my brother and I do things for my father.  He might fix a pipe; I do things like research medical alarms, install an answering machine, and my husband and I have been taking care of some of his life issues.  My father is generally competent, but he has no reserves left.  He has some dementia due to hardening of the arteries.  It causes him to forget.  But he understands this, and he has learned to write notes.  Alzheimer's medications do work for his condition.  He's blessed not to have a progressive disease, and he knows it. 

I also call him every day, just as I used to call my mother.  It serves a multitude of purposes.  If I couldn't get in touch with him, then I know that there might be something wrong (because we haven't actually installed the medical alarm yet).  I can listen to hear if he is mentally slipping.  And I have been trying to get to know him better.  Because I never really did get to know him.  He spent most of his time with my brother when we were growing up partnering with him at Boy Scouts and similar father/son activities.  And, in a way, I always resented the fact that he didn't spend even a fraction of that kind of time with me.  I was his first born, after all.  But I wasn't a boy.  But, it is what it is, and the past is past.  We can only more forward.

Through it all, I have only asked one thing of him.  In keeping with our promises to my mother that I would go through her things before they are discarded, I've asked him that when he does want to throw things out to please put the bags in the garage for me to go through when I come over on Sundays.  Putting them in the garage means walking five feet further than he otherwise would.  But doing that for me means that these bags are segregated from the other bags containing things like kitchen waste, and they are also protected from the elements.  Believe me, I've found treasures in these bags.  Things that my brother didn't want.  Things that my father didn't want.  But things that were priceless to me.

And he absolutely f*cking refused to do it.  Each time my brother has filled bags for him, my father can't be bothered to put the bags in the garage.  In fact, one time, he'd taken them out to the curb.  And he told me about it when I called him that evening, starting with "well, I broke my promise to you."  An unpleasant conversation followed, but he brought the damned bags back into the garage by the time it was over.  I've talked to him about this.  Screamed at him.  Tried to reason with him.  Told him that it hurt my feelings when he treated me this way.  And it was to no avail.

Honestly, I couldn't see any other side to this issue.  What the hell did he care?  Garbage pickup is Friday morning, and my brother usually comes on Friday night.  So, quite frankly, I'm not even delaying the trash being picked up.  And, let's remember, this is stuff that he doesn't want.  What does it matter if I want something he's rejected?  When I've asked my friends about this, to see if I'm the one who needs to adjust my perspective, they've all agreed with me.  And wondered if he was losing his marbles.

The last time we argued about this, about a week ago, he said that he'd made a decision "as head of the household" that he was just going to throw the bags out.  In trying to see the other side of that, I think that he was concerned about me going through moldy, wet things, because they were cleaning the area under the stairs.  It took everything I had to tell him that there was no "household" anymore.  I left home at 18.  My brother left at 27.  My mother is gone.  The only thing that he is the head of is the one cat who lives mostly under his bed.  He's the king of nothing.  But I bit my tongue.

But, between you and me, I was growing to hate him.  And to resent that I mattered so little to him that he couldn't walk five feet.  Five f*cking feet.  And all the things that have happened over the years just bubbled up to the surface of my mind.  And I disliked him even more.  The way that he treated my mother unkindly, yelling at her constantly (they really did have a tumultuous marriage, so much so that I didn't think I would ever get married if that was what marriage was really like). 

My mother told me that he'd twisted her arm after she came home from heart bypass surgery while in the throes of anger with her over some stupid thing (though in fairness, that was the only time she ever complained that he'd hurt her, and I never saw anything while growing up).  The way he treated my grandmother after she was forced to move in with them after my grandfather died.  He was so unkind to her and made her feel like an outsider.  My mother said that she heard him refer to my sweet grandmother as an "it."  And a "thing."  And she'd only ever been kind to him. 

All of these things that had happened in the past were percolating in my mind and down into my soul.  And I was ever growing resentful.  There were things I thought, things that I shared with my husband, that I would never commit to writing.  In short, the fact that he'd kept a roof over my head, food on the table, and did try to be a good father to the extent he was capable stopped mattering.  I never wanted for anything growing up, honestly.  But I became an ungrateful b*tch who didn't want to see him anymore.  I decided that despite my seething inside, I would come over on Sundays, if for no other reason than to keep the promise I made to my mother.

Last Sunday, as we were going through the bags that I'd coerced him to put in the garage, I told him that I'd had enough.  I wasn't going to talk about it anymore.  I wasn't going to fight with him.  However, I was going to take a day off this week, get a hitch put on my car, and buy a small trailer.  And, I planned to pick up the trash from his house every Thursday evening and take it back home.  Because I was going to keep my promise to my mother, and he wasn't going to stop me.  I told him that this wasn't about him.  And making it a "head of the household" issue was ridiculous.  It wasn't a power struggle.  And it was over.

And, in that moment, I think that he changed.  He apologized.  He told me that it wouldn't be necessary to drag his trash to my house (which really would have made me felt like a crazy lady, since I live 40 miles away -- can you just see me doing that every week?).  Later that Sunday, he asked me to go with him to visit a neighbor.  She is my honorary aunt, and I've known her all my life.  And, she apparently knew all about this ongoing struggle my father and I were having.  And she looked at him and said, "H, you were wrong to do that."  And he said that he knew he was.

Today, when we talked, he told me again that he knew he was wrong.  I don't care so much that he dwell on the fact that he was wrong (he certainly was); I just want the bickering to be over.  I want to put the past behind me.  And maybe get just a bit closer to my father and understand him a little more.  So I don't have to bury him with any regrets when his time comes.  Because I know oh so well now how hard it is to lose a parent.  Even though I was at peace with my mother and our relationship, it was the hardest thing that I have ever done.

So, here's to new beginnings.  I want to feel gratitude again for all of the things that my father has done for me.  And I sorely want to forget the bad things that can't be undone.  We can only move forward. 

And that's hard enough as it is, without dragging my father's trash up the expressway once a week.

Better Than Flipping A Coin

Anjali found a wonderful website to help find the presidential candidate whose positions most closely match the issues that are important to you.  I don't know about you, it's been tough for me this time.  For whatever reason, I have been having difficulty distinguishing between the candidates.  This was really helpful! 

Thanks, Anjali.

Gee, Thanks For Noticing

One of my favorite parts of the morning is going upstairs to get DD out of bed after I've gotten ready for work at 7:00, her normal waking time.  I'm not completely dressed at that point, so we can still snuggle under the afghan on the couch without wrinkling my clothes.  Why do we do it?  Because DD still nurses twice a day, and she wants to do it first thing in the morning.  (Yes, we are still doing that.  Shut up.)  So, that's what we do.  Nurse.  And watch "Fox and Friends."

Of course, there are commercials.  Most of them aren't very interesting to DD.  But this morning, she was apparently paying attention.  There was a commercial for Nutrisystem.  For those of you who aren't familiar with it, it is a weight loss program that uses pre-packaged foods.

Now, honestly, I don't think that I've talked very much around DD about how unhappy I am with my weight.  Once, when I teased her about her cute toddler belly, she said, "yes, mommy, my belly is big like yours!"  Um, OK.  So, I guess she's noticed.  (And I guess I would have felt worse if she'd commented on my behind.)

DD watched the commercial very intently, and she heard the actors talking about how they'd lost weight on this program.  And DD said, "mommy, you should try that!"  When I asked her why, she said, "because your belly is too big."

OK then.  What DD doesn't know is that I've actually been on the Nutrisystem program since January 2nd.  It's basically a 1200 calorie a day diet that supplies the majority of the food, but you need to supplement it with dairy, fruit and vegetables.  Honestly, I think that it is the law of thirds -- a third of the food is AWFUL (and I mean awful).  A third of the food is so-so.  And a third of the food I really like.  You don't have to refrigerate it, so that's convenient.  It's still rather expensive, around $300 a month.  I've actually given up my wine during the week (sigh).  But, I don't follow the diet on the weekends.  As of last Saturday, ten days in, I'd lost five pounds.  It seems like a slow go, but I guess that's pretty good.  Considering that I eat whatever I want on the weekends, and thoroughly enjoy wine again.  It gives me something to look forward to.  I'm not sure how long I'll stay on this particular program, because I think there are programs out there with much better food, but it's a start.  And it was my New Years' promise to myself.  To at least try.

But, in any event, I hadn't mentioned any of this to DD.  But, apparently my three year old thinks I'm fat and in need of a diet.  Which is rather frightening.  She shouldn't even be thinking about dieting and being fat at her age.  I must have communicated my dissatisfaction with my body to her in some way.  I have read about six year olds who try to diet, because they think that their normal body weight is too much.  Six year olds!! 

I am really going to have to work on this issue with her.  To teach her that people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors.  And that some people aren't as able-bodied as she is.  And that all of these things are "normal."  And that she should love herself, just as she is.

Because, apparently, I haven't loved myself enough.  And she's gotten that message, loud and clear.

"Bad Mother" Moments

This post is absolutely one of the funniest posts that I have ever read.  Finslippy asked her readers to share their worst parenting moments, and share they did!  I couldn't get through them all, but her "awards" capture the best of the worst.  Go there.  You will laugh, I promise.  And -- bonus -- you won't feel like such a bad parent after all.

A Privilege Meme

I don't normally do these, but I saw this from Jenn on Life In The Dish and couldn't resist.  I'm totally stealing her idea of comparing her life to her children's lives, but I'm going to throw in what I know about my parents as well, since they had fairly similar lives growing up.  I've bolded the things that are true and made comments in parentheses.  I am making a lot of predictions as far as things from DD's perspective, since some of them can't possibly be true yet.  Even so, I guess we can safely say that DD is spoiled rotten.

The meme from MY PARENTS’ perspective (9/34):

1. Father went to college (my mother’s father earned a teaching certificate)
2. Father finished college (my mother’s father earned a teaching certificate)
3. Mother went to college
4. Mother finished college
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor

6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.

8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18 (mother had piano lessons)
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18

12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
16. Went to a private high school
17. Went to summer camp
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them. 

22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house (father did; mother lived in a two-story, two-family residence with her cousins on the first floor)
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home
25. You had your own room as a child
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course (doubt they had them)
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school (doubt they had them)
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16

31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.

The meme from MY perspective (14/34):

1. Father went to college
2. Father finished college
3. Mother went to college (business school)
4. Mother finished college (business school)
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor

6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.

8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18 (but I refuse to say what kind!)
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18

12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively (ahem -- mom jeans, need I say more?)
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
16. Went to a private high school
17. Went to summer camp
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels (nope; camping)
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them. 

22. There was original art in your house when you were a child. (my mother’s paintings)
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home
25. You had your own room as a child
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16

31. Went on a cruise with your family (as an adult)
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family (as an adult)
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up. (museums)
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.

The meme from DD’s perspective (24/34):

1. Father went to college
2. Father finished college
3. Mother went to college
4. Mother finished college
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor

6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers (she’s not there yet, but I suppose so)
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.

8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18 (plan to – right now, she takes phonics, music, and gym at school, which are extra classes, over and above her tuition)
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18 (I have no doubt this will be the case)

12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18 (not if I can help it)
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs (shouldn’t she work and pay for some of it during the summer?)
16. Went to a private high school (doubt it)
17. Went to summer camp (don’t know about this one, but probably, since there is no day care for older kids during summer vacation)
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels (no doubt; DH hates “roughing it”)
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18 (nope; I love e-Bay for kid’s clothes)
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them (she’ll be lucky if she gets that – she’s spoiled enough as it is)

22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home
25. You had your own room as a child
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course. (If they still have them, she will take them)
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school (don’t think so; too distracting)
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college (if DH has his way, she will start saving early)
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16 (probably)

31. Went on a cruise with your family
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family (we love to cruise)
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.

(From What Privileges Do You Have?, based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University. If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)

Birds Of A Feather

I know that there are quite a few people who visit here because we share something in common -- we are moms, or moms-to-be, though the miracle of donor eggs.

It's still a rather small community, but I did want to mention that there is a Yahoo Group called FVED (families via egg donation).  There are also multiple groups with MVED (mothers via egg donation) in their titles (just search for MVED in Yahoo Groups and see what comes up). There is also a group that is just called MVED, but it is a very large group, and I imagine keeping up with the postings would be a full-time job.

It's nice to talk with people with the same background.  The main thing that I've learned is that we are all really just moms, and having used an egg donor is a very small part of the equation.  Nonetheless, there are some issues that are unique to us, and it is nice to talk with people who are dealing with the same things.

Just my small public service announcement for the day . . .

Glad To Say Good-Bye To 2007

You know, when I was in my teens and twenties, New Year's Eve used to be a very big deal.  I was really into going to big parties where everyone got dressed up.  The night seemed magical.

Then, as I got older, it just seemed like any other night.  And I didn't feel like getting dressed up, going out into the freezing cold weather, hanging around with a lot of people that I didn't know, and staying up too late.  I started spending New Year's Eve with my parents and their friends, my honorary aunt and uncle.

We did that for a long time.  Later, it was just my parents, DH and I.  And then we added DD to the mix.  We would either go over to my parents' house, or they would spend the evening with us.  We'd go out to dinner, play cards, and watch the ball drop.  Nothing exciting, but we were together, and it was nice.

This year, we invited my father over to our house.  He canceled due to the giant snow storm that we were supposed to get.  So, he stayed at home, as did we.  We did go out to dinner, and then we drove a long way to see a light show (just different lighted up scenes along a road that you could drive through).  At the end of the exhibits, there was a place to park.  Families could get out and walk through some extra exhibits, and I was really surprised at how many families were doing the same thing we were on New Year's Eve.  My favorite exhibit was a giant Christmas tree that was covered in microlights and changed colors to music.  DD's favorite thing was running through two long tunnels that were covered in lights.  There was a playground nearby, and DD wanted to go on the tire swing.  Silly me -- I didn't check to see if it was wet before I put her on it.  It was dark, but it did look dry.  Wrong!  That cut the evening short.

We went home and watched the Grinch Who Stole Christmas at DD's request.  DH remarked at how sick he is of this DVD.  I guess they've been watching it quite a bit.  I like it because it's short.  After DD started getting sleepy, DH and I watched Breach.  It was a pretty good movie, but then we got into a fight about watching all of the bonus features.  I only like deleted scenes, alternate endings, and the like.  DH likes to watch every.single.feature.  Every one.  To me, some of that stuff is like watching video of someone else's wedding.  Nice for a short while, and then I'm ready to move onto something else.  When I told DH that I don't like this stuff (OK, I said that it was garbage -- bad choice of words), he got really annoyed with me.  We ended up watching an episode of Lost (we're trying to catch up), but DH wasn't happy with me.  (I told him that he should save the remainder of the DVD for today and watch it by himself, but he said he doesn't have any time to do that.  Apparently, the only way he thinks he can watch this stuff is if I suffer through it as well.  So, back to the store it went this morning.)

I think he was still angry with me when the ball dropped.  DD had awakened at that point (she'd fallen asleep on my lap), but she was a little groggy and didn't understand what was such a big deal.  So, we had a terse kiss, finished up our wine, watched the rest of Lost, and we all went to bed.  Ah, the joy of being married for almost a decade.  Sometimes, I don't think that we like each other very much.  And that is kind of sad.

My, my New Year's celebrations have come a long way.