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    I have thoughts inside my head

    January 22, 2009

    And how great would it be if I would actually post those thoughts to my blog? Fantastic indeed.

    School is back in as of last week and we are 75% finished with potty training around my house. Except someone, who shall remain anonymous but wears size 2t underwear, is having some issues with wanting the Browns to make it to the Super Bowl, if you know what I’m saying and anyone who’s a parent does, so there have been some ugly moments. I mean really, none of the parenting books (that I’ve perused anyway) have that special chapter to prepare you on how to gently break it to your child that their stomach will continue to hurt until they finally give in and poop and that no amount of leg crossing is going to hold things back when their body finally decides it’s had enough. Especially when their mother is slipping them large amounts of prune juice in their sippy cup. *Ahem* Not that I or anyone in my household would know anything about any of those things.

    I have also become so enamored of my twitter account in the last few days. Wow, all these random thoughts that flit around in my mind, I can totally share them, nay–I totally NEED to share them with the world and people with choose to follow me on account of it. Daily self-validation in carefully measured 140 characters or less sized doses. Is it wrong to be relieved when someone un-follows you and as a result you can un-follow them and all their stupid, inane and not worth reading tweets? Well, if so, then I probably don’t want to be right.

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    A whole feedbag of random goodness

    April 16, 2008

    The water heater (that just had the heating element replaced last fall) gave up the ghost and went to a better place sometime between 11:30pm Monday night and 4:00pm yesterday afternoon when I discovered ankle-deep water in the main room of the basement. Where many boxes labeled “Important Papers” and “Books” are also located.

    The Husband is also currently out of town until next week (attention internet perverts–I do have a gun and am not afraid to shoot you on sight).

    Seriously Internet? I am SO glad we are renting our house.

    As a side-note, after yesterday afternoon, Owen can now say “Oh Fudge” (comes out “Oh Budge”) with remarkable feeling. Am glad that is the only new vocabulary he picked up after I discovered the lake in our basement.
    Now for the portion of our show where I try to break my arm from patting myself on the back so vigorously: In spite of all things water-related going on at my house, I still managed to finish and send the tax forms from 2005 (don’t ask unless you would like to be amazed and awed by my spectacular talent of dragging my feet) AND work through and submit on time the 2007 taxes at 10pm last night after I realized that I had my husband sign the wrong tax form before he left on his work trip. Inspiration struck as I was sifting through the IRS website for an extension form as I realized that I could submit everything online and sign electronically, bypassing the problem of my husband not being able to sign a new form until next week.

    I tell you, sometimes it’s really wearing to be this much of a genius all the time. This coming from someone who had to double check that their fly was really zipped this morning because it felt a little drafty during my trip down the hill from parking lot to workplace.
    Posting might be a bit more sparse than usual around here until the first part of May. We’ve reached that fun part of the semester known fondly as “The Final Panic” also known around my house as “Oh Crap, when’s that final project that was assigned the first week of class due again?”, so I’m a little buried in all things educational for the next two or so weeks.

    Don’t worry though, I’m sure to come back with some mighty entertaining stories as Owen has decided that he needs to change into Jo-Jo the Dog boy everytime we go out to run errands. Any time another shopper gets near us, Owen growls loudly enough to earn a sad pitying look at me that says “Oh you have one of those children”. Plus, I’m sure that given the way things go in my life, I’ll have at least one story of another major appliance dying/pipe bursting/my father-in-law discovering that the backyard is over an ancient Indian burial ground when he tills up my garden next week.

    It’s always something around here.

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    Hillary grunts when she plays tennis

    March 3, 2008

    First off, I just want to mention this site. We played around with it on Friday and I laughed and laughed and laughed at some of the submissions. What’s that? I’m easily amused and need to leave the house more? Yes Internet, you’re probably right about both of those points.

    Last week was just busy. I had things going for school, work and design stuff too. That and the end of February is when my mother’s birthday occurs, which is usually a hard week for me as well. That almost sounds like my mother is dead, right? She isn’t, but sometimes I often wonder if it wouldn’t be easier overall if she were. Which is probably really really terrible and awful to say (or in this case to write), but it’s the truth.

    Let me give you the short version of the story so that maybe you’ll understand a little bit better. I am my mother’s only child. My parents divorced when I was very very young. I’ve never asked either of them when exactly they got divorced because it was always an extremely touchy subject, but from what I can piece together actually happened when I was around 2-ish. I lived with my mother most of the time and there were times when it was really really rough. Other than the fact that we were often extremely poor, my mother suffers from depression and anxiety and made things…complicated. I finally made a conscious decision at 14 to move to Idaho and live with my father’s family because quite simply I had had enough.

    Fast forward to the present. For one reason or another (and I’m still not really sure of the exact reason or reasons) my mother has not spoken to me in almost 14 years. I couldn’t even pick up the phone to call her if I wanted to because I have no idea where she is. The last address and phone number that I had for her aren’t hers anymore. She has no idea that I’ve graduated from college, that I’m married and that she has a grandson.

    Understandably this is an area of my life that I don’t talk about very much, even with my husband. Some of it is because, yes, it is a very sensitive area and the hurt is pretty much always raw right below the surface. Some of my reluctance to want to talk about my mother is because I don’t even know the words to describe how I feel about it all. For a time in my mid 20’s, I really thought that I had come to terms with it all, but it took having Owen and becoming a mother myself to understand that no, what I had really done was just to push all the feelings down so that I didn’t have to deal with them anymore.

    The really crappy thing about repressing things? No matter how hard you think you’ve pushed something down and away (it’s gone! never to come back and bother you again!) is that until you finally realize that you have to deal with it, those repressed things keep coming back again and again. I have tried therapy a few times to see if that would help but it doesn’t seem to work for me. I just have to pull things out, examine them and come to conclusions on my own and on my own time.

    Wow, what a Debbie Downer of a post this has turned into, right? I didn’t mean to be so dark and gloomy for the start of the week. Last week, I was fumbling through, sad, tired and tearful. This week is looking up. February, my least favorite month of the year is over and we have moved on to March. There are buds on the trees and Spring is coming quickly.