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.

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.

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?

You guessed it, I’m going to withhold details.  I’m not going to talk about what made my week.  I’m not going to talk about my stupid little troubles.  Because you know what?  While they are a big deal to me right now and are dominating my life (a life that should be VERY happy considering my almost wonderful everyday circumstances), 6 months down the road I am not going to be thinking about it.  Not often at least.  A year down the road, I’ll have succeeded in brushing off a lot of this garbage.

I’m just going to belly ache for the main purpose of my beautiful readers and friends to give me support and virtual hugs.  Because I really fucking need that right now.  Badly.

The sickness has been really bad lately.  The pills have helped to stop the vomiting, but the nausea has been terrible and I haven’t been eating much.  At first I thought that maybe this ugly sickness was just having one last go at me before the pregnancy is over, but now I’m not so sure.  I think the stress of recent events has been wreaking havoc on my already fucked up pregnant body.  I’m having issues with gestational diabetes (not confirmed, but have been wasting a lot of my damned time at the hospital drinking glucose solution and having tube after tube after tube after tube of blood taken from my arm).  I’m also having issues with my weight.  My doctor asked me at one appointment if I was on a diet because my weight gain is not so good I guess.  I got mad at him and told him AGAIN that I have HG and that I just don’t have much of an appetite.  But everything with the baby at that point looked good.  As long as the abuse is heaped on me, I’m okay with that.  As long as my baby is healthy and safe in my body, I can deal.  But at my appointment today……..

I was in the Dr.’s office two weeks ago and was measuring at 29 weeks.  Right where I needed to be.  Today I measured at 28 weeks and the doctor was a little alarmed.  He asked me over and over again if the baby’s movement is okay.  How many times a day does the baby move?  Is it all day or only once or twice a day?  Are you sure you aren’t leaking fluid?  When I assured him (I had to calm HIM down) that the baby is VERY active and moves all day and that I am not leaking fluid, he scribbled something on my chart and told me that I need to go get an ultrasound “just to make sure everything is fine.”  He then started explaining that this could be nothing.  That I might just have a short pelvis (wtf is wrong with my pelvis NOW?) or some other very benign things.  Then he looked at me and said,

“How are you feeling?  Have you been sick?”

And then it clicked.  This stress has taken a physical toll on me and my baby.  And oh, I was immediately so angry.  Stress and ridiculous circumstances could possibly be hurting my baby.

Nothing’s certain right now.  I have the ultrasound after the weekend and can make sure that my baby is okay.  I’ll also just be able to see him.  The little person kicking the bejeezus out of me will be on a screen for me to see and admire.  My resolve to protect that tiny creature has doubled.  I just need to see him.  And I am freaking out a little bit.  I’m in the home stretch of this pregnancy.  I’ve made it past an “almost” miscarriage, the bitch part of the sickness, and the basic growing pains of having a person grow in your abdomen.  I wish so much that I didn’t have to worry about this baby so much…especially when it is possibly caused by things that could have been avoided altogether.

Hopefully in November I’ll be able to write a blog post about my relief and gratefulness that this baby is just fine despite all of the silly little scares.  That I’ll be able to take hundreds of pictures of this baby and his big brother together and show off my two beautiful healthy babies.  Hopefully, like before, this turns out to be nothing.

We took the train in to New York.  I was a little nervous about traveling with a toddler again (remember the flying from Seattle to Philly experience?  Yeah, I was afraid of that happening again!) but we bought a portable DVD player, got the kid some headphones, and the ride was totally quiet.  Success!

We get into Penn Station and lug all of our extremely heavy crap up two escalators before hitting the street.  I took a brief moment to look up and admire the city-scape before realizing that the taxi cue was almost a block long.

“Jessie,” I said.  “The hotel is only a mile away.  This line is crazy, let’s just walk.”

“We are not walking to the hotel.  We are waiting in this line for a taxi.”  He replied.

“But it’s not that far!  We can walk it, it will be quicker!”

“WE ARE NOT WALKING WE ARE WAITING.”

“Grouch ass,”  I said.

So we cued up and waited for our turn to get a cab and in all fairness I have to admit that it didn’t end up taking very long at all.  We got to the hotel, we unloaded and checked in.  The lobby was already full of squealing and hugging women and my excitement grew.  We were led to the correct bank of elevators (the elevator situation at this place was insane!) and standing in front of me was Denise!  I had just gotten there and was already hugging someone I adored!

We went up to the room and I started texting and calling people that I knew to see where they were.  Nobody was available yet.  So Jessie brought back a couple of dirty water hot dogs from a local street car and I inhaled mine while waiting when I realized that I needed to go register and get my badge before the booths closed for the night.  While standing in line, Jennifer called me and we ended up finding a quiet place to sit and meet face to face for the first time.  We chatted for a couple of hours before I decided to call Denise and see about getting all of us Chatter ladies together for a nice meet up.  We ended up at the BlogHer CE Dinner and met some of the famous contributing editors of the site as well as two of the co-founders of the site.  It was pretty cool.

We went back to Denise’s room and sat around chatting for a few hours.  I got to meet TW, who’s cooking site I love (and who fondled my belly quite a lot), as well as Sassymonkey and her husband.  Denise and TW’s daughter Rebecca was also there.  She gives me hope that the younger generations aren’t all going to grow up to be Paris Hilton.

Day one of the conference started with e Newbie Breakfast where all of us first-timers stuffed our faces with muffins and fruit while listening to the founders of BlogHer say hi to us.  I went with Jennifer, Jessica (BlackBeltMama) and I waved Linda over to our table after Jennifer recognized her from Chatter.  It was a really nice breakfast and I was surrounded by great and intelligent women.

After breakfast, Linda and I headed over to the morning keynote where we sat in the worst place ever to hear or see what was going on so I ended up having a conversation with a book publisher who came to the conference assuming all of the attendees would be “mommy bloggers”.  I politely corrected her and explained the truth that women bloggers cover all topics of interest from technology to politics.  She looked like she didn’t believe me so I turned my attention back to Linda so I wouldn’t be tempted to pull her hair.

I attended one session on Friday that bore me to tears so I went to lunch, hooked up with Sassymonkey and spent a couple of hours swag hunting with her and laughing as she volunteered to get her picture taken with everybody.  We then went to the Geek Lounge and chatted for a bit with Denise and Linda before I excused myself to go back to the room to spend time with Jessie and Lukas before the Voices of the Year Keynote that night.  (Jessie and Lukas, by the way had a great time in NYC.  They were out and about having a great time doing kid-friendly stuff together.  Great Daddy and Me time for my little boy.)  I went back to my room, played with Lukas and showed him all of the swag/toys that I had brought him.  We ordered a pizza from Ray’s Pizza (One of those iconic NY pizza places) and I ate in the room before putting on my pretty maternity dress (pretty, HA!) and headed to the keynote.

I sat alone and was enjoying the readers until a woman came in and sat right next to me (the row I was in had all empty chairs except for the two ends…why did she do that?) and kept getting up to go plug in her phone into an extension chord by a pillar in front of me.  Then she would sit and browse the internet on her phone and periodically ask me “Have they done the humor posts yet?”  She asked me this FOUR TIMES.  I wanted to yell at her to pay attention and leave me the hell alone, but I was a nice person and nodded quietly at her while biting my lips as hard as I could…you know…..the nice thing.

After the Keynote, I wandered around looking at the cool art.  I was getting pooped out.  I saw a room full of balloons and decided to swipe a yellow one for Lukas.  As they were still setting up for the Gala in the main ballroom, I decided I had enough time to run to my room really quick and deliver it.  I ended up laying down “just for a second” and fell asleep.  I’m so lame.  I got all dressed up in this ensemble that I had put so much thought into and I fell asleep in the damned thing.

I woke up the next morning and went to breakfast.  I sat alone at first but my table filled up with some super nice ladies.  Two of them were from Chicago and I asked them if it was an assault to their senses to be in NY and they said no.  I was surprised, but it was a great ice breaker and I ended up chatting with these two ladies the whole morning before my sessions started.  It’s proof that most of these people were totally friendly and totally cool.

I went to 3 sessions that day and enjoyed all of them.  I had lunch alone and was joined at the last minute by a woman wanting to talk about Apple products.  I stuffed what was left on m plate in my mouth and hurried away.  After my last session, I went up to my room to spend time with Jessie and Lukas.  We got dinner from the famous 53rd street Halal street car (it was really freaking good) and then I started texting and tweeting people about getting together.  Jennifer called me and told me to get my ass to the third floor for a little floor party the Chatter Ladies were having, so I rushed down and had a great time just chatting with women I adore on the internet and in real life.  And TW got some good belly-groping time in.

Jennifer and I then went to a party that we were both REALLY looking forward to only to find it a little too loud for us old-timers.  We stood in line to get drinks, but the woman in front of me was about to start a fist fight with the bartender over the color of her drink ticket and the fact that she wanted ALCOHOL and she wanted it NOW GODDAMMIT.  She finally got her cocktail consisting mostly of ice and cranberry juice and Jennifer and I got waters and got the hell out of there.  We decided to do a photography walk of Times Square (Jennifer is a super photographer).  It was dark outside, so we got the full experience of the obnoxious lights in the Square.  And all the obnoxious people.  If someone tried to harass us, Jennifer would threaten to beat them with her tripod.  I felt very safe with her.

And basically the next day we left.  I almost puked in the train terminal, but ended up holding it in until late last night.  Puking is fun!

At the end of it all, I have to say that I had a fantastic time.  It was so nice to meet people that I talk to almost on a daily basis face to face.  It was so nice to get out of the house and go to sessions based around my interests as a blogger (a pee-on blogger, but a blogger nonetheless).  The next conference will be held next year in San Diego.  Part of me winces at that.  I hate plane rides almost as much as I hate Apple, and I would have to go alone and leave my two babies behind for a long weekend.  I’m still mulling it over, but I would feel bad if I missed it.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that there are no regrets for this year.  I had a great time and I have an immense and new found affection for some of these women.  Thank you all so much for making my first BlogHer so great.

What got me really  motivated to finally do this was this article and it’s subsequent comments.  The comments especially made me motivated to make my wishes known.

In case of my death, my online presence will need to be taken care of.  My wish is that said presence be erased.

In the event of my death, Jessie will sign on to my two blogs, my Facebook account, my Twitter account, and my BlogHer account and let everybody know that I have passed.  After two weeks time, the BlogHer and Twitter accounts are to be shut down.  The Facebook account can be left up a little longer for my online friends to discuss and receive news about funerals and all the mess.  After a month, the Facebook page is to be taken down.  Deleted.  No memorial pages, please.

Delete SMP immediately and unceremoniously.

As for my Flickr account, if it will not be used any more by Jessie, delete it.  Save the pictures to a hard drive and delete the blasted thing.

As for this particular blog, I’d like for it to be saved for my boys.  Make either one or a series of Blurb books of the blog.  Once this is done, delete the blog and take down the site.  Again, no memorials.  Emptiness is more appropriate in this space.

I don’t want any well-meaning or sentimental people to try to leave some sort of online tribute to me.  Frankly, that makes me twitch.  I want it gone.  If you want to remember me, get together, have a few drinks and talk about me that way.  If some people would like a book of this blog, I’m sure Jessie could help with that.

I want my online presence to disappear in the wind, much the same way I want my ashes to scatter.  I don’t want people to have to visit one certain place either physically or online to remember me.  If I disappear, I can be remembered anywhere anytime.

Friday, Jessie left work early and we went to my mom’s house.  My mom and step father are out of town but they gave us permission to use their pool and cabana while they were gone.  I spent that Friday cooking fried chicken for a picnic while some weird cable guy was in my house for almost 2 hours trying to ignore what I was telling him.  Want me to go into that story?  Too bad, I’m doing it anyhow.

Ever since our cable company has made the switch to where you need a digital cable box to get even basic channels and we got a second box just for that reason, we have been having horrid problems.  We subscribe to a bundle package where we have cable television, cable internet and the cable telephone.  Once we got the second box, things started fucking up.  On Demand wouldn’t work and the phone and internet kept going out.  I don’t like being without internet, but it really pissed me off that we were paying for phone service that was really unreliable.  They sent a workman out.  This guy was really super nice.  He kept me informed of what he was doing and when he found the problem he tried his best to explain it to me even though it was way over my head.  Basically maintenance had to come out to my house and replace wires and couplings at the pole.  That still didn’t fix the problem.  They sent another workman out.  This guy was also extremely nice and he listened to me when I explained what the last guy had done and I suggested that perhaps this second cable box was causing the problem since the problems started when we got it.  He agreed and said that he would replace the second box no problem.  He had to try two different boxes before one worked and he even explained to me why the equipment sometimes didn’t work.  He was awesome.  Well the new box fixed the On Demand problem but not the phone and internet problem.  *sigh*  They sent out another workman.  This guy was a doofus.  The best way I can describe it to you (especially my WV readers) is that he was a know-it-all redneck.  You know, the guy who thinks he knows how everything works and will not listen to reason.  Basically he came and stood in my living room (where there is NO cable equipment) and talked to himself for about five minutes….thoroughly creeping me out in the process.  Then he asked me what the problem was.  I explained to him that the phone and internet kept going out.  He then started going through the same long process that the first guy went through.  I stopped him and explained to him that he was the third workman who had come to our house about this problem and that he might want to look at the modem first.  Then I heard the signature know-it-all redneck line:  “I’m gonna tell you right now that your numbers are going to be out of whack!”

I tried not to laugh because he reminded me so much of a dumbass a friend of mine used to be married to.  So he looked at the numbers and then stood in my backyard talking to himself a while longer.  Then he came to me and asked me to show him where the cable modem was.  I showed it to him and you know what he ended up having to do?  Change out the modem.  Like I suggested he should try.  He was at my house for almost 2 hours.  But, the good news is that it seems to have fixed the problem.  I’m not really miffed at the cable company.  When we call, the people are always super nice and they always send a workman out the very next day.  And up until know-it-all showed up, the workman have all been awesome.  I hope the problem is fixed though.

ANYHOW, we spent the evening at my mom’s house swimming in the pool and just enjoying each other.  That night, we let off a few small fireworks to try to get Lukas excited for the 4th.  He wasn’t very interested.

Saturday, we went to a local lake to try fishing only to find that with all of the jet skis and motor boats (and lack of fishing areas) there was no chance we were going to get any fishing done there.  So, we shrugged it off and went back to mom’s house and spent that very hot day lounging in a pool.  It was a great day.

Sunday we were pooped and decided to stay home in the air conditioning.  That night, we grilled out and let off fireworks.  Again, Lukas could have cared less.  Jessie and I made clowns of ourselves playing with sparklers and doing stupid stuff trying to get his interest, and he ended up getting really annoyed with us.  Then we brought out the big noisy fireworks and he was still not having it.  Oh well, maybe next year.

Today we WERE going to stay home and just chill, but in the middle of writing this post, my mom called from her car on her way home from Philly and asked if we wanted to come over today.  I know part of the invitation is because it is hot as hell outside, but I know she really just wants to see Lukas.  It makes me a little misty-eyed to know that my mom will probably be to my kids what her mother was to my brother and I.  It makes me happy they will have that kind of connection with someone outside of their parents.

So I am finishing this blog right now with a very excited toddler pulling at my arm screaming “GRANDMA’S HOUSE” and “BIG WA WA” in my ear.  It’s cute and annoying all at once. I’ll end this with some awesome pictures from the weekend.  I have videos as well, but I’ll make a separate post for those.

I don’t know if it is a Lukas-thing or a little boy-thing, but this kid LOVES being naked, and I know my mom will get a good laugh out of seeing him running around bare-ass on her patio.  I also love my censor-the-winky job.

He was more interested in the mac n’ cheese than in the fireworks.

It was a good holiday.  Stresses were forgotten and I remembered to count myself as lucky to have two sweet faces smiling at me when I looked up.  Soon it will be three sweet faces.  Life is good.

In his little bubble-reality, he can acknowledge that he has desires for other women.  He can also acknowledge that other men might desire his lovely wife.  But at no point did it ever occur to him that his wife might actually desire another man, and leave him for that man.  He knows his wife is beautiful and that she is smart and interesting.  He sees her as a sexual creature, but only with himself.  In the course of their long term relationship, he has gone from seeing her as a complex woman with wants and desires to a wife and mother.  To him, the acts of being a wife and mother suffocated the natural human desires in the woman.

It turns out that he was wrong, and he spends the rest of the movie trying to deal with that by seeking the sexual company of another woman and failing miserably.

I know that Jessie sometimes forgets that I’m more than a wife, cook, house cleaner and mother.  I can’t say that I blame him sometimes.  When he gets home from work, he’s greeted by a tired person whose hair is pulled back in a bun and is wearing comfortable but hideous clothes.  I can’t look sexy when I’m in the bedroom watching Adult Swim and folding his underwear.  I can’t look sexy when I’m covered in splatters of spaghetti sauce and on my hands and knees wiping up a milk mess from the floor.  But just because I don’t look it doesn’t mean that I don’t wish for it and wish to seek it out.

I stay home all day and use my time in running a house and raising our son (soon to be two sons).  I take care of groceries, meals, laundry, house cleaning, child rearing, and usually bills.  I also serve as a conversationalist to my husband and his number one supporter.  I sit and listen to the details of his day and involve myself in those details so as to stay current in our conversations.  And sometimes it all bores me to death.

I still have dreams for myself.  I have wants.  I have desires.  I’ve been in the presence of other men and been extremely uncomfortable because of my attraction to them.  I’m committed in my relationship, but damn it, I’m still a woman with warm blood pumping through my veins.  Don’t forget that about me.

The worst part about all of this is when I, myself, forget this about myself.  I forget that I’m more than just Momma and Jessie’s wife.  I’m more than just the person fretting over what to make for dinner that night.  I’m more than the person who takes pride in the fact that I’ve found the perfect combination of laundry detergent and fabric softener that makes my towels smell like heaven.  It’s always in times of desperation and frustration that I remember, usually when I’m upset that someone else has forgotten.  That’s a damned shame, but in the drudgery of day to day life, an inevitability.

So when you see me kissing one of my kids or holding hands with my husband, please remember that there’s more to me.  There’s so much swimming beneath.  I’m still complex, I’m still human.  Yes, I’m a wife and mother, but I’m also still a woman.

As a blogger, I made the decision long ago that I would not be as transparent as I would like on here.  You see, the feelings of other people actually matter to me.  Getting on here and just letting loose would make me feel a fuck of a lot better, but I know that it serves no other purpose and would only result in more drama than I usually let into my life.  But oh, how I admire those bloggers who just put it all out there.  When I read their posts, I always go away feeling so empowered and so envious.  I wish I could have enough back bone to do that.  I just know that I, personally, would have a hard time telling those inconvenient truths that so many people don’t like to acknowledge.  You can chalk it up to me being a chicken shit.  That’s not exactly correct, but that’s one incorrect assumption about me that I suppose I could live with.  The truth as to why I do it is a bit more complicated.  Let me just say that the only people who can really hurt me are people that I’ve let into my heart.  People I care about.  And maybe it’s obvious that I’ve been the one doing all the caring.  And it just keeps happening!  My dad, my grandmother, aunts, uncles, and others have all had the privilege of being knife wielders at my heart…..and back.  And no matter how many times it happens to me, it never stops flabbergasting me and upsetting me.  Hurt, despair, “Why me” and rage are the typical range of feelings I keep going through whenever this keeps happening.  Common sense has told me more than once to evaluate what it is about me that keep setting people off like that.  What am I doing wrong?  But then those people who have actually taken the time to get to know me, who REALLY care about me and know me tell me that it’s just an unfortunate theme my life is supposed to follow.  These unfair circumstances are what make me really treasure the truly loving people in my life.  They are like kicks in the ass to remind me that I need to always keep close those who get it about me.

I don’t get the problem though.  I’m not a particularly deep or complicated person.  I’m not hard “to get.”

Fridays are usually my house cleaning day.  I’m sitting in my family room playing with Lukas and his toy cars.  A load of laundry is spinning in the dryer behind me.  The family room looks like a toy bomb exploded.  So does the sun room.  So does Lukas’ room.  Today is still going to be house cleaning day.  I’m just waiting for my MP3 player (of COURSE it’s not an Apple product!  You know me better by now!) to charge so that I can stuff my brain with loud music while I clean.  Last Friday, I cleaned without that kind of distraction and I thought and stewed on my recent unfortunate-ness.  That’s actually all I’ve been doing since it happened.  My only comforts in all of this is that there are people in the know who are just as confused about it as I am.  I know who really cares about me and who REALLY knows me and I am so so thankful for those people.  Sure, there are more people who prefer the easier route of assumptions and meanness, but the tiny majority of people who are there to pat me on the back and say, “Oh well.  I still love you,” have made me feel so blessed.  I love you all.  The whole handful of you.  You guys all mean more to me than I can express in my current state of mind.

So the next time you log on to Facebook and see that I haven’t been updating much, remember that in truth, I have sat on that site and thought and fought with myself about what to say and what not to say.  I’ve typed and erased updates before posting them.  More than once I have slammed the top of my laptop down in disgust and screamed at my ceiling that I wish I could drink.  That’s why I’m waiting on this MP3 player.  I need to drown out the thoughts, confusion, hurt feelings and general dismay over once again being unfairly made out to be a villain.  All I can say now is, thank God I keep metal music on this thing.  If anything can shut my brain up, a little Danzig sure as hell can.

With Lukas, when I look back on that experience, I remember it more as a medical experience than any sort of moving experience that touched me deeply.  My water broke, I went to the hospital and was immediately hooked up to an IV and practically strapped into a bed the entire time.  I had mentioned that I wanted to be able to walk around, but the medical professionals seemed to think that I needed to rest.  Now I wish I had been more forceful.  In the end, it wouldn’t have mattered.  I would have labored and suffered and still would have had to have that emergency c-section.

Every medical person who has had to shove metal instruments and fingers in my hoo-hoo-dilly have all made comments that my pelvis is very narrow.  I never gave it much thought when I was in labor.  The female body is supposed to move and bend and accommodate the passage of the infant.  Well mine couldn’t accommodate a baby as big as Lukas.  After 3 hours of pushing and the intervention of the vacuum, it was obvious that the child was not moving past my pelvic bone.  An emergency c-section was ordered and my beautiful boy was brought into the world.

Armed with that past experience and the knowledge that I would rather not assume that I’m having another c-section, I think that I’ve got a loose plan.  I’ve discussed it with my doctor (who, by the way, wanted to go ahead and schedule my c-section before I informed him that I would like to try a VBAC) and we’re going to wait until the third trimester to make a solid decision.  At week 36, I will have an ultrasound to measure the baby and make a guess on if this will be another giant baby like Lukas.  If that is the case again, my doctor will schedule a c-section.  I WILL NOT feel guilty about that decision.  Laboring for 16 hours, having that sensation of feeling your pelvis being pulled down by a baby stuck in the birth canal, and then having to have a c-section anyhow isn’t fun.  If I can’t deliver L.O. vaginally, there’s no need to labor.

However, if it looks as though there is a chance that L.O. is less of a giant and a little more in the 7 lb. range, I would like to let nature take it’s course.  I’ll still be staring down the possibility of another c-section anyhow, but I’d rather at least try it and make sure that the medical staff understands that I want to be in control of the experience this time.  Don’t worry about me, I have no problem being a demanding and stubborn bitch when it comes to my babies and my birthing experience.  My birth plan with Lukas was about 3 pages long.  It will be at least 5 pages this time.

I find myself envying women who were able to vaginally deliver their children.  They actually GAVE BIRTH to their babies.  I don’t feel like I had the experience of giving birth.  I’m not one of the many women who had a c-section to make life easier.  I’m not a statistic of medical professionals forcing a c-section on me.  My c-section was actually necessary and my doctor explained to me beforehand WHY it was necessary (as I requested in my birth plan).  Hearing, “Look, honey.  This little guy isn’t going to fit the natural way.  There’s no danger to him right now, but he has to come out soon or he will start getting distressed.  We’ve tried everything to make this happen naturally and you’ve been a trooper, but we’ve got to have a c-section.  There’s just no other way.”  I trusted my doctor and she was well versed on my birth plan and knew that I DID NOT WANT a c-section.  We did everything to make it happen naturally, but it wasn’t working.  So I sobbed for a minute, signed the paper, and let them wheel me to an operating room.

I want that choice this time.  I want to be able to say how this will happen and not have a doctor tell me how it will happen.  I guess in about 20 weeks I’ll know how this will all work out.

On a happy note, I’m feeling much better now.  I still puke every day, but thankfully, as with Lukas, after I take my pill I’m able to function normally.  I’m still not enjoying food very much but I’m functioning as a normal human being again.  Thank goodness.