I have a varied music taste. I prefer words over anything else. The words have to speak to my soul. I have put on the side bar the lyrics of the song that has been on repeat recently. At the risk of being all Myspace. Because I’m like that.
I’m bringing more music in my life. And that means into your life. Because you are in my life.
Get ready for a ride people.
| TEXAS lyrics |
I don’t typically start an IM with hi and stuff. I just don’t. Well…..when I started this IM with this “Random word Wednesday…goopy vagina….” and he said this may or may not be on the big projector screen of his job, I laughed my butt off.
The baby is two. Two people. Not only have I kept him alive longer than I kept alive that chia pet in college that was a huge mistake, and a plastic plant that every one was sure I could handle, he is doing well. There was a time I wasn’t so sure. He was conceived three months after a suicide attempt that landed me in the mental ward for a while and I still wasn’t stable. Obviously. My psychiatrist told me he was advise his daughter to have an abortion. I’m not opening that debate here, but that isn’t what I did.
I was on bed rest for 7 months. I wasn’t due till July 12. Yet on June 26, 2005, my water broke as I was getting out of bed. And not only was there water, there was green goopy chunks. Lots of them. I called my friend Geri to come over and please take me to the hospital. That was 11:30 in the morning. By 2:45 in the afternoon, Joshua Micheal was born. Three weeks early, but still at 7.8 pounds and 21 inches long. The only problem was he has meconium in his lungs and they had to suck it out. I was having a c/section, they gassed me up. Because I couldn’t see my baby and my blood pressure was going up the roof. While now in perspective, it could have been so much worse, the sounds of him being torchered was the worst thing to listen to. I wanted him to be ok. And he wasn’t.
I’ve thought a lot about that day since then. It could have been worse. He was born three weeks early. He tried to be born earlier than that. The further from that day I get, the less pain I feel from him being born early and him being touched like that for the first 20 minutes of his life. Because he was bruised for a few days after that, after they squeezed his lungs to get them clean. But I can’t beat myself up over something I had no control over. I have to give myself permission to move on. Because he’s healthy now. That’s what matters.
Does he know he has a mother that cries at night in the bathroom because she can’t be everything she expects herself to be? Does he know he has a mother who can’t be Donna Reid? He will find out soon enough. For now he knows he has a mother who walks in the sprinkler with him when we go for walks and teaches him to say “DUDE”.
Happy Birthday Joshua. For I am growing up with you.
When on a date, it is always good and proper to tell them to back as you are about to fart and it will in fact echo.
This was a first date, by the way.
I’m not broken. I’m a social ackward, but not broken. Dating? OMG. Well, can I tell you something? You will laugh your ass off, because I am. I have a date this weekend. I will have stories. Oh yes, I will have stories. Why? Because, I’m a social reject and he knows it.
But I’m not broken. And he knows and you know it.
I just thought you should clear your calendar for this weekend for some juicy lissa stories of ackwardness, silence in the wrong spot, speaking in the wrong spot and dropping the f-bomb inappropriately.
My father is turning 70 this year. He still works a full time job. And takes my 10 year son to every soccer game on Saturday. My mom says she has noticed him slowing down this year, but did you read where he turned 70?
I have had a turbulent relationship with my father over the past 26 years. (I’m adopted, remember, yes I’m still 31.) I was a wild child and he was raised work till you drop and you have no energy to be wild. Well, I kind of proved him wrong on that account. However, I inherited my strong work ethics from him.
I also thought my father didn’t care about me. How that statement is wrong, so wrong. Here’s the thing. He gave me the room to be an individual. To make mistakes. And I made them. While he was watching. Now as a parent, I realize how much heart ache that must have caused because I would chew off my own arm before I want Joshua to be hurt.
While I don’t think my father knew about everything I was doing, I now realize he knew more than I thought he did. And still what does he say to me when we talk on the phone? “Did you change the filters in your air conditioner?” (he knows I don’t even know where they are located)
Because that is my father. A man of few words. I understand him more now than ever.
Housewife. I will never be a “housewife”. I read this word and I want to shake the person who named herself this.
It is the freaking 21st Century women. You did NOT marry your house.
That is all.
Sometimes, and I know those of you who know me are laughing right now, I am too nice of a person. I do not know how to say, you are in the wrong.
Two days ago, I did that. I took the bull by the balls, (hee I said balls) and made someone aware that I am in fact a human and I do in fact have feelings.
I feel better saying that.
Oh and Helen? If you need a “Melissa fix”? I was walking by my new boss the other day and just as he turned around while talking and his hands were moving? His hand totally brushed up against my boob. No, it didn’t brush against my boob. It had almost cuppage. I asked him if it was good for him as is was for me. He couldn’t look in my face for the whole day.
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