You want to know something pathetic AND disgusting? I’m sitting here reading pro-ana blogs (as in pro-anorexic) and I’m eating french vanilla ice cream by the spoonful. I seriously feel like barfing now. Oh the irony! Plus, being too lazy to actually get a bowl and serve it, I’m eating this shit right out of the carton. The sick part is that I actually relate to a lot of what these young delusional girls think about their lives/eating/bodies. They want control, no, they NEED control. They want perfection and until they get it, they will never be happy. Sadly, that statement is my life in a nutshell. Although you’d never think it by looking at me…

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My domain expires on December 18th. I’ve been ignoring the expiration notices, pretending like I don’t have a decision to make. It’s a decision, albeit not a very important one (comparatively speaking), that is going to be hard to make.

But… I think I’m going to let this domain go and cancel my hosting.

First time in 10 years that I won’t own a domain. Even though I have a shoddy track record with posting and I’ve never exactly had a plethora of readers, it feels almost sad and empty to come to this. I’m letting a part of me go. The part that wants to write & share and needs to be validated by putting it on the internet. The part of me who enjoys torturing her perfectionist self with code and layouts.

I finally realize the fundamental problem. I let too many real life people know about this place. Too many family and friends visit here, waiting to see what I’ll have to say next. Not only is it a lot of pressure, it’s really confining. I cannot write about what I really want to write about. I can’t say the things I really want to say. I can’t let the real voice inside of me come out. It would disturb people too much to know how truly fucked up I am inside. No matter how cathartic it would be for me, my messed up jumble of thoughts would only serve to worry those who care about me and/or give ammunition to those who don’t.

Sure, I can post endearing stories about the crazy things my kids say or do. I can bitch about the painful inconveniences of life. And I can slice it all up with humor & sarcasm, to make it consumable for everyone. To make it cute. And light. And somewhat normal. But I’m not being true to myself.

This is not what I came here for.

The reason why I go for long periods without writing is because I cannot say what is REALLY going on in my head. And it takes so much time/effort to craft up something happy and cute (with pictures to boot!). Honestly, it’s too much work to share the side of me that I want you to see, pushing back the me who hides in the shadows.

When I started blogging 10 years ago, I never sought out to be popular or well read. My only desire was for the emotional release of putting my thoughts out into the universe and for the creative release of tinkering with webdesign. Cheap therapy if you will. I will admit that I also longed for empathy. For someone to read what I had to say and to understand. To relate even! However, feeling so stifled and self-censoring myself so as to not scare my loved ones…

where
is
the
therapy
in
that?

Maybe I will just start a blog on a free service like blogspot or wordpress. I can revel in the anonymity and purge myself of this growing snowball of silent thoughts.

Among the coupon clipping, the “No Gavin, stop that/no touch!”, the housekeeping (or lack thereof), and the deficient staving off of the depression-monster, I’ve also been busy with a certain soon-to-be 3-year-old who has just started preschool.  We are very fortunate that Quentin was approved for developmental preschool. He has successfully transitioned from the state’s Early Intervention Program (EIP) to the local school system.  (You might not be privy to the fact that he was referred by his ped to the EIP over a year ago due to speech delay and had been receiving in-home speech and occupational therapy.)

First week of preschool down… two years to go! *Sigh*. Just the thought can be exasperating, as I’m finding myself up until midnight baking cookies for Halloween parties and struggling through nightly homework with a kid who clearly does not want to “color 2 orange pumpkins and 3 purple pumpkins”, because dammit- he likes BLUE. And yes, I said HOMEWORK. In preschool! Am I the only one surprised by this?  It doesn’t help that the packets they send home are fairly advanced for his current level of ability. I understand that the point of this homework is not entirely about the actual educational content, but also to instill responsibility, discipline and the ability to follow instructions.  However, to me – it’s more like, get your metal armor on because there’s about to be a battle of wills!

We’ve also had a little drama in regards to the bus.  Quentin is still very afraid of riding the bus and I doubt he’s on the bus driver’s “most loved” list.  He’s given them (the bus driver and aide) a run for their money this week in regards to tantrums when being put ON the bus, both in the mornings and after school. The first day, he came off the bus and confessed to me “I scared of da bus. I cry!” at which point I simultaneously shot the bus driver a look of sympathy while inwardly thinking “Sucks to be you!”, because I know all too well what a Quentin-sized meltdown entails.

All joking and bitching aside, I’m so proud and happy for my little guy. It makes me sort of sad though. He’s not my baby anymore! And holy shit did I just like blink my eyes and he went from this little thumb-sucking Gizmo to a full-blown preschoolin’ Gremlin? No kidding, time sure does fly!

Quentin @ 4 mos. old

He was very proud to wear his uniform and “packback” the first day of school…

Quentin's first day of preschool

The teachers said he has done really well at school and that the first week is always the most rough. I’m already being the overbearing Mom with my custom notes/emails to the teacher asking “Am I doing this right?” or “Can you further explain this?…”.  I’m pretty sure I’m not on HER “most loved” list either. I need to lay low for a few weeks before I think of joining the PTA and jumping on any soap boxes. I kid of course. I’m so not the PTA type ;) Oh, and those cookies for the Halloween party? Came out like huge flat pancakes. “Bakery Style” my ass!  I never said I was the Betty Crocker type either…