Hugs

There's nothing that makes the sun come out like your 2.5 year old daughter getting one step down the porch, pausing as if she's forgotten something, then turning around to run back to you, wrapping her little arms around both of your legs and shoving her face in, right above the knees, for those full-body hugs she gets when you bend over to wrap your arms around her in return. The little upturned-face goodbye kiss is wonderful, as well.

I think this happens to parents/people a lot, and we always think the physical aspect of it is the most important part, right? The hugs, the kisses.

After this morning, I think it's the moment of remembering, that matters, the pause when they realize they must not leave without giving you a hug goodbye. That is just awesome, that moment.

Floor post

I really should be getting more of these files done. Instead I'm looking around the internet to find the best Allie Brosh comic I could possibly put up to express how I feel right now without freaking everyone out. Because it's not that serious. It's just the weather.

I'd also really appreciate it if someone could find a way to permanently fix brain maladies of the psychological ilk. The only problem with that is, is that it's probably one of us who could find that way, if we could just focus and not get knocked off balance everytime we're deprived of sunshine for a few days.

I feel like the sky is just sticking its tongue out at me.

I do not entirely trust the judgment of people who read book series out of order.

Funny conversation:
Daddy: "I'm the boss."
2yrold: "No, you're not the boss. You're a kitty-kat."


My little family is hilarious, especially when no one is looking. :)

I had something to say....and then I chickened out.

The censor is strong with this one.

In my shadow.

It's lot a harder writing in an almost-daily fashion nowadays, when I belong to people. It's a lot easier to admit to failings or struggles when you're an individual, and not a mom or a girlfriend. Or, at least it is for me.

I have the hardest time writing about being a "recovered" eating-disordered person. (In quotes, because it's still running in place to stay recovered, sometimes.) It's not even about shame, or anything like that, but more about the fact that there still remains in my mind the fear of scrutiny, the fear of failure of an idea of me, someone else's idea of me.

I look forward to a future when I have slain that shadow.

A word is a weapon if you use it right.

I'm writing again. Thank god. I might need it to save me.

My Mammaw has passed away. I now have no grandparents left.

Everytime we came to visit we would walk through the door, and she would turn around from whatever she was doing in the kitchen and smile this huge, brilliant smile and exclaim "Hey, Darling!".

I don't feel like writing. I just thought I should document this. Goodnight.

Here we are now, entertain us.

My friends and acquaintances and I are a strange crew, in most people's eyes. We were almost all metal/goth/punk/hippie kids and we almost all still have piercings, colored hair, tattoos, creative hairstyles, and wear a lot of the same clothes we did as teens. Yet here we are, bringing our children into the library storytimes, doing mommy-and-gymnastics or yoga classes, taking our children to girl and boy scout meetings, watching daughters practice their cheerleading routines or parade around in their princess dresses, encouraging them at sports events, etc.
My point is, not everyone raises their child to be who or what they are. A lot of us raise our children to be the people they choose to be. No matter what the surface looks like. It's very liberating and honestly...quite humorous. The parent/child couplings produce some very striking counterpoints, in the best way.
Happy Sunday.