I try to refrain from creating posts about my kids. Sure, I’ve put up a few pictures or occasionally written about something funny they did. But for the most part, I stay away from the topic.

There are a couple of reasons. 1) Yes, I love my kids, but I see a lot of them. And I don’t really find it necessary to write about them non-stop. 2) It’s kind of a privacy thing. It’s a crazy world, and as much as I desire a stalker, I’m not looking for one for the kiddies. 3) Yes, I may seem like a cold bastard for saying this, but for the most part, I really don’t give a rat’s ass about some stranger’s kid(s). I don’t need to read about them. I don’t want accounts of how cute it was when they reached in their diaper and smeared crap all over the wall. SO, I figure why bore you with the stories that I may find endearing and charming, but means very little to you.

There are always exceptions to the rule. Below is the note that my 7 yr. old left on my bed tonight. I went to my bedroom for something and saw it lying there, propped up on my pillow. He did break the cardinal rude of sneaking out of bed after bedtime, but I think I can forgive it this one time.

They say that an apple a day keeps the doctor a way. Eve was the first to partake, so maybe that’s why women are invariably more brave in the face of physical ailments.

Today I talked to my “boss”. My male boss. He has a cold. Seriously, the way he talked about his suffering, you’d think he had just given birth to a 300 lb. elephant out of his ass.

What is it that makes men such pansies when it comes to pain and illness?

This video is dedicated to all of the wussy men out there, and to the women who take care of them.

Explaining your feelings to someone is difficult enough, but when you have trouble dissecting and translating them for yourself, ugggg… it makes me tired.

Something is changing for me. I’m not unhappy, and yet I’m pretty sure that I’m depressed.

A few of my near and dear have voiced concerns. It may be that they see this change, or see something that I’m not even aware of. But it gives me pause. I wonder what is really going on with me. A friend that I haven’t seen in many months even said I looked “down”. And I was so hoping that I was hiding it well.

For example:

I’ve given up dating. And by giving up, I mean I WILL NOT DO IT. I say “no” when asked out. Part of the reason is that I just need a break. Since my divorce, I don’t think that I’ve REALLY taken a substantial break. But beyond that, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no one that I will connect with. EVER. So going through the motions, taking the time, exerting any effort physically or emotionally where a potential mate is concerned seems, at this point, pointless.

Dramatic? Maybe. But I don’t feel much emotion about it. Frankly, I think I’m probably the least dramatic woman I know. But in the past, where “romance” was concerned, even I could muster a little passion about the subject. Now, I’ve got nothing.

Not a BAD thing per se, but I’ve noticed changes in me with regards to other aspects of my life.

A recent goal (the last year) was to be in a ‘place’ in which I was comfortable with myself. To not always have to have plans, go out, be in or looking for a relationship. I’m there, but it ain’t great. And I have a feeling that this isn’t quite what I originally had in mind. I find myself becoming slightly reclusive. The idea of staying home alone is becoming more and more seductive.

Another issue contributing to my general apathy is seeing life moving on without me. Yes, I know, life is ever changing. But it’s changed so much for me in the past year and a half, that I just want things to stop for awhile. I want to just have a moment of stability.

And as unrealistic and selfish as it may be, I’d like certain people around me to just put their lives on hold and just “chill” in the moment.

I suppose it’s a stupid fear… a fear that while I’m just coasting for awhile, that others will step on the gas and leave me behind. Knowing myself (whatever THAT means), I’m sure that one day I’ll wake up, decide that I’m “ready”, turn off the cruise control and return to the land of the ridiculously hopeful :).

Until then, you’ll find me slowly but surely working on my feline collection in the hopes of someday becoming the most famous cat lady ever.

The beautiful fruits of my loins

Ian

Emma

Cooper

It’s my brother’s birthday today… HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZEKE!

He would have been 37, had he not committed suicide 19 years ago. WOW! It’s been 19 years. It’s crazy how time flies.

This is the note (exactly as written) he left us, his family, in an attempt to explain why (although it’s much less comforting than I would have liked):

I s’pose an explanation is in order. (Understatement?)

This is not an act of desperation – I’m not seeking attention, I have no use for sympathy, I do not see myself as a martyr for some noble cause, nor do I have any great statement to the world.

As I look back on the seventeen or so years of my life, I can’t help feeling that I have always worked at a loss, ‘putting more into life than I got out of it.’ Such is purely an effect of my attitude towards the ‘day-to-day grind’, and I can’t see any reason for that to change in the future. Certainly I have accomplished a few things, and I’m quite capable of greater accomplishments in the future. Like most people, I feel a sense of fulfillment, excitement, etc. at a job well done, but even great achievements cannot make up for the daily dose of reality that comes in-between.

Why now? I had actually planned to do this little ‘deed’ Sunday night two weeks ago, but something came up to stall me awhile (Exactly what this ‘distraction’ was may or may not be revealed in the future, but assuredly, it was ironic and timely from my point of view). I have had a sort of long-term goal for quite awhile now that I would do this before my nineteenth birthday, (I never could picture myself past nineteen) but never could think of any reason why it should be sooner rather than later, so I just kept in the back of my mind. Now, however, I have created a situation for myself that has sufficiently unpleasant consequences that I can intellectually justify my action even to my irrational ‘emotional side’. How lovely.

To sum up: I was not drowning in a well of tears, this is no person’s fault save myself (save myself – what a curiously inappropriate choice of phrasing), no person could have prevented this from happening sometime without physically restraining me, no regrets, etc., etc., ad nauseam…

Slightly cold and detached, with a dash of sarcasm and humor. I would expect nothing less from him.

I wish that he were still alive. I wish he could have lived long enough for us to have moved past that “I’m your brother and my job is to torture you and make your life a living hell’ stage. I believe that we could have been good friends in our adulthood. Looking at the person I’ve become, in many ways, I think we were very alike (although my “intellect” leaves much to be desired in comparison). All I can do is speculate and assume, and wonder how well I really knew him.

But this is how it is. This experience has helped to shape who I am, and how my life has turned out (whether it’s a good or a bad thing… the jury is still out). Maybe it’s jaded me a little, but it’s also helped me gain a perspective on things. I know what is really important, in a way that maybe other people can’t or don’t.

I can’t help thinking (maybe it’s the mom in me) of all of the amazing things he could have accomplished. I’ll forgo the details, but in short, he was a bloody genius. Not just the average, run of the mill smart kid, but exceptional. Rare. Remarkable.

Despite putting gum in my hair, scaring me every time I walked up the stairs, and being my nemesis, I miss you, love you, and wish I could have seen you as an adult, husband, father, and friend.

Happy Birthday Brutha’.
(January 13, 1971 - February 17, 198

Volleyball.

It’s that time of year again, when the 20, 30 and 40-something year old women get together in an attempt to recapture that “I’m in high school again” feeling.

I love volleyball. I loved participating during the nose breaking and bone crunching years of old. And I always look forward to the two months a year that I play.

But it does not come cheaply. The cost is not monetary, but physical.

Tuesday was the first night of my rec. league, and I have the bruises to prove it. Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t dive for EVERY shanked ball, or every spike, but my two years of summer Volleyball Camp didn’t teach me to play it nice (or safe).

Believe me when I say that I am paying dearly every time one of my kids brush by my legs. When I walk. When I inhale and exhale. Despite my damaged body, it was, as always, incredibly fun.

The enjoyable experience was only magnified by the 2 hour hot tub soak that my teammate, cousin, and oldest friend (old as in longest had, and not to be confused with my bff) took after the game. One of the many benefits of having rich friends :).

Living in the land of “in-between” is a strange sensation. Not so much lonely as it is isolated. I’m not sure if it feels good or bad.

I no longer attend church. Not because I’m rebelling or can’t live the requirements. I just don’t think I believe anymore. The feeling is a cross between freedom and having a parasite eat away at me from the inside out.

I no longer scrapbook. That in and of itself makes me an anomaly… one who is both feared and envied by the “good” mothers across the valley.

I’ve been wearing tank tops around the house. Not much more to say about that.

I’m unmarried, but not free. Three kids really do hamper my “wild” social life. I guess I’ll just have to resort to watching R-rated movies in my house.

Sometimes I’m sad to be alone, or maybe better said, un-mated. But when I think about it, the thought of finding someone that I’m not only compatible with but actually enjoy seems impossible. And frankly, I think I kind of like being alone.

I know who I am and yet simultaneously feel like a complete stranger to myself.

Yep, I’m a walking contradiction. I like to think that it makes me mysterious and intriguing. But I’m pretty sure it just makes me a confusing pain in the ass. And yet I’m still so lovable.

No, it has NOT escaped my attention.

Yes, I AM aware that for 2 months running, my mastheads have been less than, well, exciting.

Problem #1: I have Adobe, but have no real idea of how to use it.

Problem #2: Even if I did know how to copy and paste a simple picture or edit anything in Adobe, I am having some creative “issues”. I’ve got nuthin’.

So until I’m hit with an inspired bolt of magical elf lightning, this is what you get.

It’s cold outside.

Snow is covering rooftops, hiding grassy yards, and making every step in my driveway a near death experience.

For me, the only good thing about winter is Christmas, hot chocolate, and snowboarding. Other than that, I could do without the whole damn thing.

Here is what I love about summer:

• Sitting outside in the evening, just as the sun has set. I love the sounds, the smells, the leaves moving in the gentle breeze.
• BBQ’s with friends.
• Not having to wear a jacket… ever.
• Watering my potted planets on the deck first thing in the morning.
• Lying in the sun while my children run and jump through the sprinkler.
• Swimming.
• Sitting on the amazing patio at Hogs, people watching.
• Walking barefoot to the mailbox.
• Watching the hummingbirds at the feeder.
• Rain when it’s hot outside.
• Putting on a pair of flip flops to go the the grocery store.
• Playing softball.
• Eating every meal on my deck.
• Spending 5 days at Lake Powell, with not a care in the world, and wearing nothing but a bathing suit the entire time.

Last night I rang in the new year with my BFF, as well as with some unexpected “friends”. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have rather been anywhere else.

It’s been a tough year. One of the hardest in my life. But I made it through, a few battle scars added to the collection, but still kicking.

The closing of this year has caused me take stock. Like many, I’ve thought about what I want to do differently. Thought about my goals, dreams, and desires. So here they are… my 2008 resolutions:

• Spend more time actually interacting with my children. To engage with them and be present, not just there.
• Be more kind, empathetic, and understanding to everyone, not just my friends and family.
• Love… unconditionally, and without fear.
• Health. To eat better, workout consistently, and in general just feel good. To let go of unhealthy and even hurtful habits that I have. That my actions will support and reflect what really makes me feel good, long term.
• To not put myself in situations that are dangerous, physically or emotionally. To not compromise myself just to avoid conflict.
• Find happiness with and in myself.

Maybe not profound, but important to me. These changes may not take place overnight, but at the end of 2008, I hope to be able to say that I accomplished these goals.

To those of you who have loved me, supported me, laughed with me, cried with me, listened to me bitch, and just been a friend to me in the year 2007, thank you.