That Old Song

I'm going to write a post about the awesomeness of taking your giddy ten year old daughter to see a much anticipated movie on opening night at midnight tomorrow after I've slept and recovered a bit, but tonight, on the way home from the sparkly vampire movie, the younger sister had the radio tuned to the station that plays song from our youth...you know eons ago, back in the '90s. And I heard two songs that I haven't heard in ages, and seemed a tiny bit symbolic given my earlier post...

First..this gem from Ace of Base...


And this fantastic anthem from Meredith Brooks...a long time favorite and theme song of mine...

No Words...

I'm sad today...learned something last night that made realize the exgirlfriend as I knew her truly does not exist any longer. After all that's happened in the last year and a half, this final straw seems insignificant on the surface, but speaks volumes about how far she's come from the woman I once loved. It's not even worth explaining, as it doesn't really affect me or the midget, other than to make me realize that the exgirlfriend's choice to be less active in the midget's life than the midget's father is a blessing in disguise.

I've tried to write this post three times in the last 17 hours, and I'm still having a hard time finding the words to convey how I'm feeling. I can't even find a song that says what I can't...

So, instead, I'm going to post this youtube video of the current audiobook that is amusing me and the midget, because it's made of awesome. It's also in keeping with the vampire theme I've got going on today, since the younger sister is taking the midget and me to see the new Twilight movie...Yay for sparkly vampires...

The Return of HNT

So, my promise to myself to post a weekly HNT (half-naked Thursday) was totally derailed by the intrusion of Diabetes into my little universe. It's hard to think about body scapes and tasteful pictures of this body that has housed me for 33 years when I'm up at 2am checking blood sugars and trolling through websites for ways to make our lives easier.

I struggled with this picture. It shows more of me than any of my previous pictures. I'm hesitant to post it, because it's very honest, the pinky pallor of my skin, the curves of flesh that resemble a landscape far more than an ideal bodyscape, the freckles...

But, this is the body that housed my midget for 40 long weeks, the body that comforts her when life gets too tough, the body that hugs my nieces and nephews, the body that has laughed for an uncountable number of hours with my beloved Archaeogoddess, the body that I have promised myself I would learn to love, if not for my sake, then for the sake of my midget, who needs to see that self worth should not be measured by numbers, or whether or not you look like the models on the covers of the magazines.

Thank you to everyone who comes here, and keeps coming back, regardless of the number of half nekked pictures I post, or the number of times I use "fuck" in a sentence. Thanks for letting me be me, and being brave enough to come back.

It's Not Just Me

I've been laboring under the mistaken impression that I am the lone woman on the planet who doesn't want a relationship and has no desire to find a "mate." I have gotten such strange looks for saying things like..."I love you today, I loved you yesterday and I'm pretty sure I'm going to love you tomorrow...please don't ask for more."

I also used to get the weirdest looks when I told people that the exgirlfriend was not my best friend, that I have an amazing best friend who gets me and to whom I can tell anything and know that she will not judge me. She's like another piece of my soul. Not that I didn't love the exgirlfriend. I did. People would always say that I was being unfair to my girlfriend by having a best friend. Or people would assume that because I'm bisexual, the love I have for my best friend must be somehow romantic in nature. Which is just ridiculous.

Anyway..I never knew other women that had the same feeling. Until tonight when I read a fantastic post on Fuck Yeah, Motherhood and went "Holy Fuck! I'm not the only one."

This is the best part...Each word is something that resonates, that I could have written. I fucking love it!!

But it’s not enough. People want things that baffle me. Like girlfriends. And wives. And forever. I am now. I am “I love you”, not “I will always love you”. I am “I like being with you”, not “I’ll never leave you”. I am “Let’s go to the park today”, not “Let’s go to the Caribbean in March”. I am not a picket fence. I’m not even a key to your apartment. I am just me. I have seen always, forever, and never go south and I believe in only making promises I can keep. I don’t know if anyone will ever be able to accept my tiny bit of today without asking for a whole lot of tomorrow. That’s okay, though. I’m still sensational.

Dogs, Dogs, Dogs

I may have mentioned my obsessive and totally requited love for this thing

at least once or twice on this here blog thingie. We love each other. I'm not embarrassed to tell you that. Sure, other people have fulfilling relationships with human beings, but that rarely works out for me, so I'm sticking with this guy. He's cute, cuddly and jealously posessive. Not in a creepy "If I can't have you, no one can" kind of way, but in a really cute "I'm going chase away all the other dogs...and WTF, you got another dog?!?" kind of way. And only rarely does he change the channel when I'm watching the Discovery channel.

Now, just because I love him, that doesn't mean there isn't room for other dogs in my life. It's not like my obsession with Coke (no, not coke as in the white powder, but the brown carbonated stuff that comes in the red can, and No, I will not allow you to substitute Pepsi, what kind of girl do you think I am?), I love lots of dogs...I mean there's this guy:

And now, the newest member of my family...


This is Chewy. Chewy is a seven month old Chihuahua mix. He's actually not my dog, he's the midget's dog. Of course, that hasn't stopped me from stealing him and cuddling him and holding him and giving him kisses, much to the dismay of Charlie and Ellwood. They don't dislike him, not at all...they play with him and Ellwood lets him cuddle and everything. But, Ellwood and especially Charlie, are not thrilled about my affection for this little guy. They are of the opinion that two dogs ought to be quite enough for me, and they appear to feel that I should pretty much ignore the new puppy.

We're going to have a group therapy session next week...you know, so I can reassure them of the love I have for them, and we can talk about any other issues that may be lurking just beneath the surface of our happy home...like Ellwood's need to vomit on my bed at one in the morning...

What a Difference a Year Makes...

Ah, the first weekend in June. Warm weather, the end of school and for us here in my tiny corner of the universe...the Italian Picnic. It's as small town as you can get. A small carnival with a handful of rides, playing bingo for salami, listening to a bad cover band, visiting with a good friend at the Bocce Ball court. It is such an integral part of life in this area that it's never really a question of if you're going to go, but rather, when, and with whom.

I spent the evening at the picnic with the family. Barely organized chaos it was, what with the youngest girl wanting to do everything the midget (who is 7 years older) did, while our middle girls tried to be brave enough to ride the carousel by themselves. The midget was amazingly patient with her youngest girl cousin, as she always is. She went on the "baby rides" with her and took her down the big slide about a dozen times and only whined a little about not being able to go on the big, scary rides because she didn't want to go by herself.

It really made me think about last year, and how far I've come since then. I was tying myself in knots over someone who wasn't worth the time and the effort and trying to be strong enough to parent by myself, giving the exgirlfriend far more credit than she deserved in terms of what she brought to the table. A year ago, I thought the worst had happened, but I've since learned better. What had happened was the best thing that could happen, it was just tied up with so much ugliness that I couldn't see how much better off the midget and I were without a woman who not only wasn't happy, but didn't want to be happy, and didn't want the life we lived. I keep thinking how hard it would have been to make it through the last two months with all that's happened with the midget and having the added burden of trying to tiptoe around the exgirlfriend.

I hate to use a cliche, but things happen for a reason. Every horrible, shitty thing that has happened in my life has made room for something better, made me strong enough to be the midget's mom and to parent on my own. I'm not perfect, far from it, but I'm holding our lives together and the midget's world is full of lots of love and laughter and family, and that's the only indicator of success I need...