The listing realtor comes tonight to see the house and, I hope, give a much-needed motivation injection by telling us the pig’s lipstick looks quite sellable, actually.

Because right now — after at least 6 weeks of concerted purging, boxing, and clearing — it still feels like 80% of my preparation has been…buying a can of Febreeze.

People like Febreeze, right?

The more I want to be gone, the more impossible it seems.

Has anybody ever actually sold a house they were still living in? With two children? Under age 2? And a disability that makes tidying up a monumental effort?

toddler looking uncerrtain

Felix isnt sure, either.

Happy Anonymous Donor Day

My children don’t have a father. They have two moms, and an anonymous-for-now  sperm donor.

(They also have amazing aunts and uncles and cousins and neighbors. And I hope one day they’ll have some donor-siblings, but today I’m thinking specifically of their donor.)

The information we know about the donor is a strange mix of intimately detailed and hopelessly limited.

Some of things we know: some basic physiological characteristics and measurements, some resume fluff like education and career, some self-reported interests, a few generations of family health history. One small picture of him as a toddler. Some impressive sperm counts and morphology from a thawed sample.

What we don’t know could fill many a book. We don’t know if he has dimples, or if he needed braces as a teenager, or how much he likes to sing in the shower or dance in the kitchen. We don’t know if he was ever afraid of thunderstorms, or when he got his first passport. We don’t know if he ever thinks of the children that he helped create.

I don’t know how much it matters. The boys are so much their own people — arrived on the scene as completely their own little people — that maybe it doesn’t matter one whit about the meatbags and middlemen that mixed some body fluids to get them started.

I can surmise the donor is pretty smart. I mean, he figured out how to get paid to masturbate, and if that’s not a sliver of the Manly American Dream come true, I don’t know what is.

But half-kidding aside, I can also surmise that the donor is major-league generous. His contribution — however anonymous, or pleasant, or lucrative, or not — made us mothers, the kind of gift that nobody can put a bow on. Not even one of those Lexus-sized Christmas bows.

I can thank KK for making the leap with me, for all the once-in-a-lifetime-ness and the relentless daily grinding of it all. For being brave enough to let her heart burst open, so there’d be room to hold us all.

I can thank our friends and family for the support and patience and love they show us every day, that they show the boys every day.

Sometimes I get a little sad that I can’t thank the donor for his role in the gift, too, for helping me finally find my life’s work.

What I saw of the donor on insemination day - the bag from the lab that held the thawed sample

What I saw of the donor on insemination day – the bag from the lab that held the thawed sample

snapshots

America, we’ve got a LOT of work to do. Time for all good people to stop doing nothing. What one tiny thing will you do today to make tomorrow one tiny bit better? (Pictured: employee bulletin board at a #TJMaxx in #PodunkGA) #LetLoveLead #starttoday #stophurtingblackpeople #stophurtingwomen #marriageequality #xpost via Instagram http://ift.tt/1BrcNlk

shared: Mutha Magazine » MAKING BABIES: An Essay in Comics by KATE LACOUR

Mutha Magazine » MAKING BABIES: An Essay in Comics by KATE LACOUR
By

But there’s another loss there, which is a kind of ego death. The limits that defined your personality are systematically eroded by meeting the needs of another person without reservation. 

I don’t see enough coverage/admission/discussion about this aspect of parenthood. It’s been unsettling.

May 21, 2015 at 10:32PM
via Mutha Magazine http://ift.tt/1Fri7mN

I’m finally in the 1%

While the number of patients with annual [drug] spending above $50,000 was just 0.2% of patients, the amount of drugs they and their health plans or employers paid for accounted for 16% of total spending…

via Drug Costs Top $50K A Year For Half Million Americans – Forbes.

yeah…one of my drugs alone (a biologic) costs about $156,000 a year.

It comes with no guarantees. It will not cure my disease. It will not save or extend my life and in fact, carries the “rare but serious” potential side effect of taking my life.

The rest of my meds are older, cheaper generics, largely prescribed to help deal with the shame of taking a drug that, in one year, costs more than my house.

More than most of the houses in the world.