Our weekend went fairly well. Saturday night we drove out to Austin to meet up with some of Trina's friends. Trina got to have her first beer in a long time, catch up with old friends and dance the night away. I don't dance, drink or have friends in Austin so I got to hold various people's drinks and assorted belongings while they danced. Shortly after someone yelled "I LOVE this song", I'd end up looking like an alcoholic trying to juggle multiple mixed drinks and a few beers.The highlight of my night was telling a complete stranger about my wife's cervix and her run in with the "graspers". In my defense, she asked me about the TTC process and I, being socially inadequate, forgot when to stop talking. I think my experience here has skewed my perception of what appropriate conversation is. I mean, I would have never talked about Trina's cervical fluid in public before you people warped me. I blame you, Blogland.
After leaving the club in the wee hours of the morning, we tried, unsuccessfully, to sneak into my father's house. That's just not possible with a Jack Russel and a Bloodhound on duty. 20 minutes later we were finally able to get the yapping and baying under control. Trina set up the bedside table with all of our TTC paraphernalia. It was odd to see the fertility monitor, temperature chart and BBThermometer sitting there beside the bed at my dad's house. Not sure why, but it just struck me as funny. We had a lazy Sunday morning eating jelly biscuits, drinking coffee and watching the hummingbirds buzz around the many feeders on the deck. Every time I visit my dad I remember how much I want to live in the Hill Country. Some day...
I had the Monday off. Unfortunately Trina didn't. She actually had to work both of her jobs. As she slaved away in corporate America I cleaned up the house, did some laundry then headed over to my friends' house for BBQ. I felt pretty guilty having fun hanging out with my friends and playing with their beautiful 9mos old daughter while Trina worked. She's been pretty emotional and I didn't want her to feel slighted.
The last few days she's been on an emotional roller coaster. One minute she's sad and the next she's pissed. The tiniest things make her cry. I feel so bad for her. She's miserable and there's nothing I can do to help. Believe me, I've tried. Here's a basic scenario. Playing the guitar makes her happy, so she's been doing it alot to soothe her savage soul. The other day she busted a string. This made her cry. Today I went to the guitar store and picked up new strings. I even got the right ones which is easier said than done. She was SO happy that I ran that errand for her without being asked. Ten minutes later she yells "Where are my needle nose pliers??" Me "They're on the table, I was just fixing your necklace with them, remember?" Her "Those are YOUR needle nose pliers, I want MINE" Me "Seriously?" Her*glare* Me "OK, I'll find them" I located the "special" pliers and left the room after handing them over so as not to say anything stupid. I could feel myself wanting to compare the two pliers to search for differences. This would not end well, so I came to the room to blog. Hi. :) Five minutes later she's standing next to me, eyes red and watery, hand outstretched. There was a tiny dot of blood on her pinkie finger. She poked herself with a guitar string and needed coddling. I rocked her in my lap and rubbed her back while she sniffled. She told me she was sorry for being a freak and thanked me for dealing with her craziness this week. Then, smiling, she ran off to play her freshly strung guitar. I can hear her singing and strumming as I type.