Yes, yes I know that I promised I was back and then I dropped off again.

Sorry about that.

I actually read a blog post (I’m not linking to it) earlier this week about whether or not bloggers should obligate themselves to letting their readers know when and possibly why they are taking blog-vacations.  Well….that post PISSED ME THE HELL OFF.  Not the actual content to be exact (why should it?  It had a good point or two in there, not that I’m buying into any of it) but the TONE that the author used.  She actually wrote another post in which she was expressing a bit of irritation over a bad comment (not made by me! But I won’t begrudge a blogger a chance to complain about a negative comment. They suck!) on that post and she said something along the lines of,”Well if you don’t want to be considerate and giving, then fine!”

Fuck that lady.  I’m sure she’s nice in real life and a wonderful writer, but fuck that lady.

I have my reasons, my reasons are good, and although I really like all of you who come to read this blog, my personal life is my own.  My struggles are my own goddamned business.

And besides, my lovely readers, if you want to talk with me or ask why the hell I’m not writing, feel free to ask. I have a contact email, I have a Twitter account as well as a Facebook and Google+ account.  I’m not hard to find if you want to chastise me for being a lazy blogger.  Surely nobody is intimidated by me and my little ol’ blog.

A little ol’ blog that I still love dearly.

But enough of that.  Who wants to see pictures of my babies?  (You had better ALL raise your hands!)

I’ve had two birthdays, and trick-or-treating go on over here, so I’ve got some great pics!

Since Lukas’ actual birthday and his birthday party were on different days, he only got one toy on his actual birthday.  He was pretty happy with his toy leaf blower.  If only it were real.  Seriously, you should see my yard!

I love this picture of Lukas wearing his Angry Birds hat.  This was taken at his birthday party, and you bet your ass it was Spongebob themed!  Viva la Sponge!

This is my baby Ruegen on his first birthday.

He wasn’t as messy as his brother was with his first birthday cake, but I still got an epic picture!

Lukas actually picked out this costume.  He passed up all of the brand-name costumes so he could be a monster.  I was so freaking proud!

FUZZY BLUE DRAGON!  FUZZY BLUE DRAGON!  FUZZY BLUE DRAGON!

Fuzzy Blue Dragon waiting patiently while Swamp Monster gets his wardrobe malfunction fixed.

This is the best picture I got of Fuzzy Blue Dragon and Swamp Monster together.  All the others look like Swamp Monster is trying to eat Fuzzy Blue Dragon.

And now I will end this out-of-the-blue-not-so-pleasant-in-the-beginning post and go back to my hole.  I’d like to say I’ll post more often, but you know the song by now, don’t you?  Thanks for hanging around.

Most of my life, I have always wondered where I fit in in the “girlie” spectrum. I’m not really a tom boy, nor am I a super pink-wearing girly-girl. A lot of my life has been spent being completely insecure about my place as a girl/woman. I envied those who were obviously a jock or a princess. They seemed to know themselves so much better than I knew myself. They seemed to have their identities figured out.

This personality I have now, this sense of confidence and self-knowledge comes from years of insecurity and self-loathing at not being what I thought I should be. I wasn’t just like my mother, nor was I just like a lot of the girls that everybody always complimented as being “pretty” and “girlie”. It took me a very long time to come to appreciate myself. The fact that I look nothing like models on magazine covers used to make me feel inferior but that is a fact now that I actually quite like about myself.

In place of manicured fingers, I have chewed cuticles and short fingernails at the ends of scarred and gnarly hands.

Instead of straight and shiny hair I have a mass of crazy, sometimes frizzy hair that has it’s own personality and I dare not tame it for fear of losing my “wild woman” look.

I’d rather mow my lawn than go shopping. Unless I’m shopping for kitchen supplies, that is.

I don’t like to watch movies that make me cry. I’d rather watch a movie about people getting mutilated by otherworldly creature than a movie about love and loss. Touchy-feely stuff makes me VERY uncomfortable.

I am terrible at sports. I have the coordination of a drunk person wearing clown shoes.

I have no amazing special talents that can wow people at parties.

I don’t like strange people touching me. Back in my dating days, this was a problem for some guys.

Pink. I don’t do it.

The thing is, as I got older, I started realizing that these features that I kept pitting myself against weren’t typical of a lot of people, not just me. I don’t think I know any one person who contains all of those qualities at once. I learned to stop trying to shove myself into a mold that was too small to hold me.

I realized that not only was I doing myself an injustice by holding myself up to these silly standards, I was also doing other girls/women an injustice by assuming they were singular creatures like that. I love that, as women, we are allowed to me multi-faceted. We can be great at sports but still have a love for wearing pink dresses and high heels. I love that we can cry our eyes out during a sad “chick flick” but then perform surgery on a human being and not get queasy at the blood and gore. I love that we can love and hate, be sweet and terrible, beautiful and vile all at once.

Assuming that we are all alike as the shallow creatures the media would have you believe we are….well, if you value your butt not being concave, I suggest you not assume that. “Girlie” means more than high heels and interior design. It means simply being a girl, however you identify with the term.

Yesterday I noticed a lot of the people that I follow on Twitter tweeting with the hashtag #tweetyour16yearoldself.  I tried all day to think of one small thing to say to my former self and couldn’t think of only one that was good enough.  My 16 year-old self and I need to have a sit down and say more than 140 characters can hold.

Dear 16 year-old me,

I have some things that I need to say to you.  I’m not going to chastise you for skipping school those two times to go to the movies or all the pot you smoke.  I’m not going to tell you to stop partying and drinking so much because, you really don’t do it a lot and all in all, you are a good kid.  I’m not going to tell you to stop messing around with other girls’ boyfriends because you think it is less complicated and less dramatic than an actual high school relationship…you’re actually right about that.  The things I want to tell you are things that are meant to save you.  Save your heart from being broken by people you love and trust.  To save you from yourself when the resentment of these foul people starts to eat you up.  I want to help you be whole and happy.

-Never underestimate your ability to love and be loved.  No matter what people tell you, no matter the harsh comments made to you and about you, you are actually a pretty swell girl.  One day you are going to love and be loved more than you thought possible.  Just hang in there.

-You father doesn’t love you and he never will.  I’m not saying this to hurt you or to be dark.  It’s a fact of life.  It’s a shitty hand of cards dealt to you.  My telling you this now will save you from all those years of trying to make peace with him.  Don’t try to make time to see him or spend with him because it will be a one-sided endeavor that will result in your finding out that he is using that time with you to make snap judgments about you and telling people what a bitch he thinks you are even though you are being as charming and nice to him as you can muster.  It’s too late for me to save you from growing up to be a girl with serious daddy issues.  Your future husband is going to have to deal with a lot of your issues and he’s going to have to work really hard to get your trust.  None of this is your fault.  The things done to you and said to you will never be recognized.  You have good reason to resent your father and your efforts to have a relationship with him despite what he’s done to you won’t be appreciated or wanted.

-You have thin skin as a result of the way some of your family members have treated you.  When people in your life hurt you and you react (even if the hurtful act was petty if not cruel and deserves no more than an eye roll) don’t let anyone tell you that your reaction is wrong.  You have a heart that pumps blood as red as everyone else’s and your feelings get hurt in the same way.

-It might be worth it in the long run to tell some of your teachers (and the principal) to kiss your shiny white hiney.  Refrain from giving them the finger, though.

-Laugh.  The ability to find humor in shitty situations will be something that saves the lining of your entire digestive system.

-Enjoy the relationship you have with your brother.  Not all siblings enjoy the closeness and easiness you two have.

-Go easy on your mom and remember that despite everything, she loves you.

-You’re always going to miss your grandma.  As you get older, your reasons for missing her are going to get more complicated.  Losing her never gets easier, your life just becomes accustomed to being devoid of her mouth-full-of-food-and-talking presence.

-Let your defenses down sometimes.  If I could travel back in time, I’d give you a hug because I know how much you need one sometimes, but other people don’t realize that you need hugs because you can sometimes come off as hard and flinty.  A lot of people don’t need to see the squishy inner you, but some people (particularly those close to you) need to see it sometimes.

-Don’t be eager to give your trust to people simply because of the role they have in your life.  It comes back to bite you in the ass more times than you’d like.  That indignant smartass attitude of yours that keeps you cynical and suspicious of people isn’t always a bad thing.

-Anyone who throws God in your face as a way to make you feel guilty for the way you are have skeletons in their closets that make your skeletons look like fuzzy kittens.  Ignore these people.

-You’re a neat person.  Nobody your age is immune to self esteem issues and self-doubt.  You grow out of most of it.  Not all of it, but you do get to a point where you can be comfortable in your own skin and can see the greatness in yourself.

-Last but not least, you are right to not jump on the I LOVE BRAD PITT bandwagon.  The man doesn’t age very well.

Who else would like to go back in time and give their 16 year-old self a big hug and tell them things work out to be alright in the end?