mydarlingcurse.com

ok my darlings, here is where i admit to being a helpless idiot.

i’m sure lots of people know what all the stuff on their blog is, and how to use every last bit of their publisher and stuff and i am here to tell you that i am not one of those people.

i see incoming links to my site and while i see then and read them and understand them, a lot of times they don’t sink in.

that said it was to my charming surprise that i noticed Kate Hopper had linked to me on her site. Kate is one of those people that i really wish i were friends with, and not someone i knew just in an academic sense. i have the same problem elsewhere in my life….”gee, if you weren’t my parole officer, i’d bet we’d be great friends.” you get my drift.

so thanks for sending peeps my way. kate really is a darling of the underground press.

yeah, so i was totally kidding myself to think i’d have time to even write 143 words a day when sometimes i don’t even speak that much.

i’m taking a tip from two writer friends of mine, well, one of them is a friend…..

in a haphazard way i found out that the cute ex-writing teacher only writes 143 words a day (allegedly). he writes 143 words on a story a day, probably every day. wow, doesn’t seem like that much, but you never know.

so i decided to give it a try. read the results here. i’m putting it some place else because i don’t want to clog it up here at MDC.

some highlights:

listening to “is jesus your pal” over and over on the route to and from rochester, mn
spring break with aunt iowa and uncle arizona and all the kids after my brother’s funeral
getting my first tattoo with JCSG with the Vodo being somehow involved….
boo’s first haircut
rock of love with bret michaels
getting pregnant
seeing the black crowes, raul malo and magnet, especially magnet.
ireland
getting extensions
writing class with the Vodo
watching boo grow into the terrible twos - it sucks, but being a witness to her everyday…it’s amazing.
getting to know slootie a little better
psycho jen and her two adorable bebes
having the adorable trainers - even though it was cut short by medical stuff with the pregnancy, by far one of the best things i did for myself this year.
having the basement finished
being done with 2007, seems like a great year, but let me tell ya….it was tough.

so despite being absent from the Vodo’s class for no less than a month, i put on my big girl panties, cracked out 10 pages of not crap and went to class. and seriously, my stomach was in knots. i love being home with boo, but my total and complete lack of adult interaction, i feel, makes me come off as desperate and strange.

i long daily to talk to other adults - about meaningful topics - and use my brain. sure it’s fun and cute jotting down boo’s adventures, but i feel like i have nothing to contribute, nothing of value anyway.

when i walked into to Vodo’s class, two classmates said something to effect of “should you even be here?” granted they were kidding, but they were totally right. probably not. i can tell you that i’ve read all the stories that i’ve gotten while i’ve been gone, but i haven’t had time to make comments.

i’ve had friends blow me off because they’ve been “too busy”. and my reaction has always been yeah right, busy my ass. when i have the time to explain to people what the last month of my life has been like, they are silent. i don’t want to make excuses for myself, but i’ve honestly been out of town or deathly ill. being seriously sick is such a drain on your energy, and adding five months of pregnancy on top of it…well just typing it makes me tired.

so should i have been in class last night - probably not. i should have just accepted the fact that i’ve completely failed in my attempts at being a grown-up and doing grown-up things, things for myself. but i simply cannot resign myself to life as a housewife and full-time mom. it’s not in me.

i love my family more than anything, and i would give my life for all of them. but to give up my life? that’s a hard one.

so i try. maybe not well, but i am trying.

so thank god the throwing up thing was short lived. but let me tell you, puking in your car, with a two year old in the backseat and your neighbours watching - not so much.

throwing up is just plain gross. it’s funny in cartoons, but that’s about it. it’s not like farting - which always gets a laugh. no, puke is just stanky and gross.

so after all that, i crawled into bed whipering and slept and slept and slept and felt somewhat better. slootie and psycho jen both told me to get my ass into the doctor. and they are right. at 20 weeks pregnant - i should not be so stubborn about my own health.

i called the OB nurse line this morning and they were like, go to urgent care, go! NOW! so i went and got some antibiotics.

the lovely SIL came over to bbsit the boo, which was nice. she needed to get out of that mad-house over there for a bit.

then, ten minutes after i got home, boo woke up from a nap with a fever and her third poppy diaper of the day.

I KNOW! i can’t catch a break! i just can’t.

and i want so badly to go see baby A - he’s not doing that well - but i am fucking germ factory and i think that walking into a NICU at this point would not only be irresponsible, but would probably get me nominated for asshole of the year.

and,
And,
AND…

i missed class last night. i so so so so wanted to go and hang with adults and make moon-eyes at the vodo, but nope. i was under the covers whimpering.

believe me, i will gush and blush and slush later. but just know that the Vodo class workshop went well. in fact, it rocked my socks off - because for once, since this past april, i actually had socks on last night.

yesterday was hubbin and my’s ten year anniversary. i was about to say that we didn’t do anything special, but that’s not true. he met me at the doctor’s office for my routine monthy check up and we got to hear baby bunny’s heartbeat. according to the doctor, even with the hemorrhage and the bleeding, the miscarriage rate at this point is “virtually zero”. that was nice to hear. hearing bunny’s heartbeat is quickly becoming my favorite song.

hubbin then went to pick up boo at school, while i did a quick edit/read-through of the story i turned in to Vodo’s class last night. then we all had pan-asian cuisine and he took her to swimming lessons while i went to class. i’m really proud of the story that i turned in. it’s not great, but i’m pretty sure it’s actually a short story - which is something i haven’t been able to really write yet. i’m sure it will get properly slaughtered at workshop next week, but whatever. i have fun writing it, and that’s what counts.

then, in a fantastic turn of events, Vodo and some other chick and i hiked over to grumpy’s and had a drink - if you count 7-Up a drink. i’ve never wanted a beer more in my life. and while the conversation started off really well, i think it took a weird turn at the end. but i have no idea who that chick was. i mean, she’s in our class, but i’m not sure what her name is - i want to say clare? or helen? but i’m not sure. and honestly, i was so thrilled to be out with the Vodo, it didn’t matter.

and not that i want to harp on the fact that i went out with other people on my anniversary, but it was really fun. i wish it had just been me and the Vodo though. and here is why, his mom went through a long illness too and passed away earlier this year and i don’t know anyone else my age who has lost a parent. i’ve been yearning to talk to someone else who has been through closely the same thing that i have, in order to feel reconnected to the world and not so isolated from it.

hopefully, my time will come, because i learned last night that the Vodo is just really a nice guy - smart and funny - and who doesn’t like that?

since we have two weeks off of mom class because of the holiday, the writting exercise is HUGE.

write ten present tense scenes on a “cluster” that we started in class. present tense??!! gah! i suck at that stuff.

thank god i have a long time to work on it.

this last week in “the mom class” i read an essay written by a woman who is currently pregnant with a boy. in her essay she talks about how disappointed they are about not having a girl, a little sister for their daughter. how unsure they were about raising a boy in today’s world. she was terrified that they were about to give birth to a mini-cheney, a gun-toting, republican, that liked NASCAR. they were heartbroken that it wasn’t a girl.

wow! get over yourself - you’re having another baby!

when hubbin and i were pregnant, people asked us if we knew what we were having - “yeah, a baby” we’d say and snort like it was the stupidest question in the world. i guess in this modern world, with 4-D, HD surround-sound ultrasounds, people assumed we had found out the sex of our baby. “hell no!” i’d say, “there are so few surprised left in life - this is one of the biggest and best out there. no WAY would i want to know the sex.”

but we aren’t like most people.

i remember once during my pregnancy, we were out to dinner with friends. they were thrilled that we didn’t know what the sex of the baby was. but then she asked me if i knew. i thought i’d have a boy, so i said boy. then, something really magical happened and it made me completely beholden to be in their company.

“god,” she said, “i really hope it is a boy. i can’t imagine better parents for a male in this world than the two of you.” i almost cried. since i was speechless, she continued. “seriously, you would raise the last modern classic man.” hubbin being science, me being art, i completely agreed with her.

but honestly, i wasn’t diappointed that boo wasn’t a boy. i was so dammed grateful to finally be pregnant, i didn’t care what came out, as long as it was healthy. i can’t imagine her any other way now,of course, but as we continue to venture towards another baby - the possibility is going to present itself again. and i can say with complete conviction, i don’t care what we have. i’ll be so dammed grateful to be pregnant again, it won’t matter. i’ll be so happy that boo isn’t going to be left alone, it won’t matter.