Teacher, what's the title?

I really don't know what to call this post, but I really need to get the last post out of sight and mind. It needs to go to bed! Bye bye miserable post of despair!
I have also been reading all your blogs and not commenting. It is a thing called inertia I think. I find it despicable in myself and forgivable in others.

I am procrastinating on all kinds of things. ( Like homework for my career counseling). In the process of procrastinating I read an op ed in the New York Times, by Maureen Dowd about how "Blue is the new Black" - especially if you are a woman. i.e. women are more unhappy now than they ever were. In fact, before feminism hit, women were blissfully ignorant of their options and guess what? they were....blissful. Except I don't think she actually says this, but believe me the 400 or more commenters on the article on line have a field day with it. According to many of them, feminism has been just plain bad for women. Give them an inch and they go out and hang themselves. But according to the study, feminism may be good for others. Like men. They don't have to earn all the money anymore, they get to play with the kids and go to soccer games and they even have time to pick up their socks once in a while. Women, on the other hand are running around like whirling dervishes tossed and blown by the winds of change!!! The message seems to be: women's lives are more complicated now and therefore they are more unhappy. They have more choices and that doesn't mean they feel better for it. Men's lives were never that complicated and they are even happier than they were before. Women are temperamental and moody, men are not.

And here is the worst news - EVERYONE who has kids is really really unhappy! I always knew that married women were the least happy of anyone of these demographic groups ( I learned that in sociology thank you very much!) and married men are the most happy (lucky bastards!) but hearing that people with kids - anyone with kids- are the most unhappy - well that just flipped my lid a little. (I do have this worry that I will work my butt off to have kids and then find out that it's all a sick joke - albeit a private one - and it's absolutely horrible after all). Of course those people don't regret having kids, they would never say that. So why do you think that women are so unhappy? Do you think they really are more unhappy than before or do you think it's some trick to get us all to relinquish feminism and spend all day cleaning house and then primping ourselves for the hour before our hubbies come home so we can look stepfordwifelike for them?

On another subject altogether..... I have been thinking of how having babies will make me "come out" in places I would rather not. Where I work all the staff know my story and most of them know that we are vigorously trying to get knocked up - or vigorously waiting to try to get knocked up. The clients, now there's a different matter. Having worked as a social worker for over 14 years I have rarely told any client that I am a laybeejun. I did famously come out to a client who confessed to me that she was confused about her sexuality ( and I naively thought she might need a role model to give her courage and help her see it's okay to be one of those people) who then went around telling everyone that she hated lesbians and that I am one. ( I wasn't on the news or anything - I use the word "famously" in a grandiose small pond kind of way!) A few clients who were gay just seemed to "know". They didn't spread it around but they would give me the "we both know that we are gay" nod! I have worked a lot with nice old homeless or nice old mentally ill ladies who I worry would be mortified if they knew I was a lesbian. They just think of me as this nice sweet rather asexual career girl who has two dogs and a handful of cats and is far too busy helping others to help herself to a bit of nooky in the bedroom. In fact that is really how I have been identified by most of my clients for a long time - the girl with two nice dogs who sometimes come visit and wag and scrounge for food. And I wonder how I will deal with telling these people - what do I tell them about being pregnant? I work in a place where staff are pretty transparent with clients - it's not the "therapy hour" kind of social work - we see the clients in the everyday - we sometimes have meals with them, we help them live their lives and we don't stop living ours while we do this. They like to know about our kids or our husbands or the latest cute bit of news that makes us look like the people that they like to think lead "normal lives".I know - many of you have been here before - do tell - I am interested to know how you have handled it. Don't get me wrong - I will be very very thrilled to have a big fat belly for all the world to see - and I will be a big fat show-off but it is going to be very very interesting in the world of work.

Here's an example of how much I really don't want to offend "nice people" by making them think of sex ( shudder ) when I tell them I am a lesbian and they are horrified ( all my own prejudices).
On our recent trip to KC my dear sweet honey and I had occasion to have three meals in the dining car on the AMTRAK. That would be three meals where we sat side by side on the banquette and on the other side were one or two COMPLETE STRANGERS!!!!!!!! Oh my god - the thought of sharing a meal with strangers is kind of interesting and novel. It's odd that we ( or I ) have become so insular that this seems scary. We spend time in strange places talking to familiar people on our cell phones. We don't eat with random strangers very often without another context or connection like church or work.
Our inaugural communal meal was on our way down to KC when we had dinner. The woman who was assigned to our table looked friendly, casual and down-to-earth. It turned out we had a lot in common - so much so that we exchanged email addresses and talked about religion and dogs ( two of our favorite subjects - being that S is training for the ministry and any dog owner loves to wax lyrical about her dogs). We didn't have to explain our relationship or hide it. It was obvious she got it. So much so that she invited us to one of her get togethers at her house if we are ever in the area.
The second meal we shared was breakfast on the way back from KC to Chicago. This was with a guy who was perfectly friendly - and who talked non-stop about himself and his travels with his wife to various time shares. He was a minister, but probably not the kind of minister that appreciates the laybeejuns. By the time breakfast was almost over I began to be afraid he might remember to ask us about ourselves and did a good job of supporting S in asking him more questions about himself. It seemed to me that he was almost oblivious of us as people and that we were objects to be talked at.
Our final meal was lunch ( yes, we love to eat regularly!) and this was the kicker. We were sitting with Mr and Mrs Average American. They were on an extended tour of America by train and were looking forward to going home the next day. After polite inquiries about what we all did and where we were from, the conversation stalled a little. Until one of them asked how we knew each other. Or if we were related or something. I think that the woman said something like: "So are you two a couple of working girls?" (!)To which I answered rather too quickly, "yes, that's right, we are just friends." JUST FRIENDS??!!! Oh girl, please! It was obvious to me that she was trying to place us, to figure out how we fit into her view of the world and relationships and all she could come up with was that we must be two busy career girls who liked to travel together. But the question I am asking myself is - how do I know her daughter isn't a big ole laybeejun?!!! How do I know that she has no concept of the old L word and why am I trying to protect her from the awful carnal knowledge that is my life? And it's very very carnal you know - just watch the L word and you'll know! I think I am trying to protect myself from the awkwardness of being stuck in a banquette on a train and seeing her struggle and feeling myself grow red with embarassment? Why do I care so much? Why am I worried about a strangers feelings and if she is judging me? I will have to really get over this when we have kids crawling all over us and people ask us how we are related!
I leave you pondering that and am off to my bed because it's that time of night.
Thank you for listening.I await your wisdom and advice.

PS. We have a new donor. She is young, is said to resemble Mandy Moore and is artistic, a little musical and lots of fun. We are waiting for her paperwork to get to the clinic so that they can evaluate her.