Please tell me you know about PostSecret. If you don’t, vacate the rock you’ve been living under and get on this!
I read the updates every Monday morning. I love them because the secrets shown remind me that we all have things we struggle with, we all have hidden joys and sadnesses. It is a lovely, humanizing way to start a week.
A few from this week’s post hit home for me, as they likely will many of you.
Now go follow PS. Like now.
I just got back from a long weekend attending a wedding back in my hometown. It was lovely. The wedding, I mean. The drama that inevitably erupts anytime I attempt to spend time with my family was categorically un-lovely. Do you people have functional families? Anyone? Bueller?
Those with normal families raise your hands!
A few things I am left with:
- I love my child, but holy shit I cannot look after him full time. He is getting too big to manhandle but still wants to be held by me and only me. My back is killing me, and I have BITE MARKS. Yes, this is Chick’s latest way of expressing that he is tired. I mean, I get cranky when I’m sleepy but biting is not okay. Like ever. Today, I never felt better about dropping him off at daycare.
- After a weekend in small town/suburbia, I want to buy a house. Bad. I have loved city living for the past 15 years, but I need a nest to call my own. Also realized that moving out West is likely not happening soon, for other reasons I won’t go into now. Good reasons, like an impending promotion. In the meantime, I yearn for a yard.
- Came back to a job a generally love, but man… its days like this I wish I were an archivist at a tiny presidential library for someone no one cares about, like James Polk or Chester Arthur. I want to retreat into my brain and have no one talk to me for a few days. The bonus of being surrounded by dusty books and handling antiquities with care… swoon.
I owe you all a post because I have things to saaaay. Nothing too terrible exciting, just some massive realizations about life and stuff. You know, the usual emotional vomit I’ve made the very cornerstone of my blog.
But I’m busy. And last night I got 5 hours of sleep between a fitful baby and a brain that could not stop obsessing over this terrible anniversary party I have to throw for my in-laws this weekend that I’m convinced they are going to hate. Maybe they’ll hate it so much, they’ll stop talking to me? I feel alarmingly ambivalent about that outcome.
In the meantime, I’m still reading your posts. And I’ve just got to say… I love us. For serious, guys. I love our stories. I love the relative honesty we have about our lives, our struggles, the tiny triumphs of putting our lives back together after grief, loss, frustration, and disappointments.
Thanks for letting me follow along.
I love this shirt, but don’t understand why little girls corner the market on kindness.
Boooo to you and your gender norms.
With Chick’s first year down and an egg in the freezer, Mr. O and I decided to start talking about the possibility of Chick Part Deux. Of course, in order to do this, I need to talk with a medical professional. Having a baby is kinda a big deal for your body and I want to know how I’ve recovered, outstanding concerns, etc.
So I took the first step and called my OB-GYN’s office for an appointment.
The soonest available appointment at her office (with ANY available doctor) is September 22nd.
Before I had a baby, I would wake up every morning at 6:00 and run 4 miles. Sunshine, rain, snow, below freezing… I was laced up and ready to go.
Now I wake up at 6:00 and get an infant ready for day care.
Running 4 miles in 14 degree weather was easier. Waaaay easier.
True story: I still wear some of my maternity clothes. They are just soooo comfortable and forgiving. Spandex and stretch, for days.
I really hope no one notices. The again, I’m not sure I’d care.