Had to tell her.

I had to tell my daughters doctor about her scare. It was rough reliving it. In person, especially. 

I wrote the blog entry about it and have just been dealing with my anxiety, quietly and waiting for myself to get over it. 

Today, as I retold the horrifying story, I realized (even though I said I would never get over it) that I really will NEVER get over it. 

Never. 

Damn.

Switch hitter.

My husband is going to love that I made a sports reference.
Even though we all know I am not going to write about sports, I think of this term a lot.
To be a switch hitter is, correct me if I'm wrong, to be able to hit from both sides.
I feel like this point in my life I am batting from the other side. At the very least, learning that this is something that I am going to have to grow accustom to, and be good at doing.

I have taken to the last 14 years of my life in such a natural way, one would (and I might have) easily forget that I might have a single purpose. Single as in, my own, not as in solo.

I might have a "thing" a "calling" or a passion for something that that has nothing to do with what I am actually doing. Or have been doing... and continue to do.
Oh I will continue to do this, but I am going to see about switching sides (see what I did there), so that I too can flex this muscle I have most likely always had.

But how?

That seems to be the million dollar question.

I guess I need to have the approach of someone starting college.
Someone with an idea but no faint concept of how it is all going to go down.
I have the clothing designs spewing out of my fingers and the trailer blowing up my head. I have my children so excited about the prospect of waking up to their Dad every morning, homeschooling and traveling for a year... I am either going to need a wall sized organizer or a psychologist really soon or I will explode.
It's all very exciting though. I am up way too late at night and I know it is because I dig a good mystery. There is so much to be excited about and I love that about this stage of my life.

Game on.

Dreamin'.

Last night I had a dream but unlike most mornings, today I remembered it.

I was backstage somewhere, it was confusing (and I will not bore you with the details of a dream)
and then I walked out onto this runway.
I was with Quattro, Elvis and Zeke and I was holding a baby (this is not the crazy part but I will come back to it).
I was at my fashion show, at Bryant Park.

There's something about the dreams that I remember.
When I was newly pregnant the second time, I dreamed she was a girl.
We were walking, holding hands with Quattro and she had long, crazy blonde hair.
I dreamed that. And it happened.

So this is me telling me that I may be headed in the direction of something amazing.

Oh, and the baby thing. That is weird and very cool at the same time.

12 things about myself

I'll play along.

1. It is really hard to talk about myself. My real self. The one that I apparently only let some people know. I'm friendly but complex. My life doesn't always make sense to the average bear.

2. I can't stand when people talk about themselves all of the time. If we leave the restaurant or hang up the phone and you didn't ask about me, my family or my life- you are out of the deal. See above.

3. I am a really, really good Mother. I believe that to my core. I have never felt so natural in all my life, in 37 years of living in this world, doing anything but this. I was meant to do this.

4. I feel like I gave up a big part of who I might have been, to have a child. I had hopes and dreams that had nothing to do with a baby. I am so glad I did this.

5. I now have a fear of water. Even seeing pictures of people swimming, or swimming on TV. It didn't happen right away, a couple weeks after the accident. It's palpable. I hate it and have to see someone about it.

6. A few years ago I was desperate for a real friend. Someone that I could count on and be there for. Someone like I never had, well since having kids. I wrote about it. I put it out in the universe and I got her.

7. At 7 years of being married, we almost got divorced. Like, really really. Best thing I never did.

8. When I married my husband, I thought it wouldn't last. I believed everyone who told us we were crazy, I was completely content with crazy and thought it sounded fun.

9. I'm 99% sure I am done having babies.

10. I went to rehab when I was 16.

11. I had "Daddy issues" when I was growing up. It wasn't until my husband showed me what a Dad really was, that I realized he was the only Dad I needed in my life. The kind of Father he is to our kids is beyond what anyone could have been for me (if they had ever actually tried).

12. Next year we are going to do something completely crazy, life changing and toe curling-ly fun. And all I can think is that I hope it doesn't mean I will die at age 76. #midlifecrisis

hot, sticky, sucks

Today is hot.
It's damn hot.
It's muggy and hot and sunny and hot.
I fear I have added myself to the list of people who complain about the weather and that is okay.
It is not the first (or last) unsavory list I have been on.

Right now I am laying on my bed, trying to figure out why the sound of my daughters laugh, is the purest, most amazing sound I have ever heard.
I have three kids and I swear, I love them all (and their laughs) but her... it takes me somewhere.
And I am still hot.

We went to the Commons today and played in the water, had lunch and I blazed the homeless drunks with my mind bullets. I wish I had a good idea of what to do with them... I guess we will all live in non-harmony until my kids are too big for the park, or they all die of alcohol poisoning.
It is sad and I know I sound cold, but I'm so tired of it. All of it.

The trash, the cussing, the smoke, the filthy shopping carts full of E. Coli. The piss smell, the way they all take up the benches with backs on them. The one's I would like to use for nursing.
Much of the grass is full of bodies. On a hot day like today, I am quite sure one of them had perished.
No one would know, it looks the same as yesterday.

I hate that yet another blog entry is devoted to this, or at least the beginning of it.
With the sound of my kids in the other room, giggling and laughing themselves silly. It is a shame I am not writing about them and Elvis' 4th birthday party we had last week.
I am sad that I am not sharing the fact that she had a great time and cried like I haven't seen her cry in a long time- when the pinata rules were laid out. She had no idea there would be a line of kids waiting to hit the thing. I guess while making the cake (I cheated, recipe below) and decorations- making delicious tea sandwiches that go better with a beer and gathering all of our friends to celebrate with us. Four glorious years with the one and only Elvis Glo Danger Daly... I forgot to mention the pinata is something everyone gets to hit. Everyone, ideally, gets a smack at it and this didn't sit well with the lady.
She cried hard. She was in no way prepared or wanting to let anyone at that thing. I think the bottom line for her was that she wanted to bust the shit open and she knew, as well as everyone else, there were about 6 boys 9 and up waiting for that thing...
anyway, it made for a great picture and of course a good story, she will most likely hear for the rest of her life. I will try to be one less person reminding her of that, right after this post.