Three years ago today

Three years ago today I was due to have a baby. My stomach was enormous and I was ready to explode.

And terrified. He was pretty easy to take care of in there. I had the basic concept down. But I knew that in just a matter of days my life would change. Life-long, unalterable change. I'm always a bit puzzled by first-time moms who can't wait to say farewell to pregnancy. Sure, sleeping was the most uncomfortable it's ever been, and my ankles each took up their own zip code. And, yeah, I was anxious meet this new little person and see whether or not he has my nose.

But in other ways I felt like I could be pregnant forever. I knew what I could/couldn't do. And being able to see my legs was optional, right? *sigh* Sooner or later he had to come out. And he did.

And...he...is...AMAZING. I seriously have the best almost-3-year-old boy on the planet. He's always delighted and fascinated that I come home from work every day. He loves fiercely. This morning he told me he loved me with no prompting whatsoever. (Although that might have been because he wanted to play on my computer.)

The jury's still out on whether or not he has my nose. But he has my pale skin. My love for books and language. My stubbornness independent streak.

I hope he keeps those things. (Not that he has much choice with the skin.) I hope he's still reading as a teenager, as an adult. I hope he loves Harry Potter as much as I do. I hope he holds onto that independence and learns to think objectively...but I also hope he wisely uses his natural charisma to build lasting friendships and relationships.

I hope that as we both grow older and my imperfections become more obvious, that he'll remember how deeply he loved me as a child. How deeply I'll always love him. I hope he'll forgive me for all the things I can't provide, and appreciate the things I can.

Happy (almost) birthday, Ri! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

I'm on a roll today...

Without a thorn
You held the axe
I came to you when I was wounded
Bloodied and in need of asylum
"It isn't finished," you said
"Your wounds. They could be worse."
And then you swung
You swung
Smiled. Nodded. Walked away with satisfaction.

I ran about
Headless like a chicken
Stumbled into the next one
"I am not WHOLE!" I cried
He balked. He laughed.
"You look fine to me"
And I was puzzled

You stood near, watching
All this time telling yourself, telling me
I was better for what you did
That you saved me from the Awful Monster
So silent, I sometimes question his very existence

The blood ran down my arms
I tried to hold myself together
But I couldn't
I can't
The beheading, you made it complete
Every scream was silence
And every time my feet would move
They could only trace a circle

I can't be a party to this

You called to say you wanted out.
Well, I can't say I blame you now.
Sometimes you've got to fold
before you're found out.
Well thanks for waiting this long to show yourself.

Cause now that I can see you,
I don't think you're worth a second glance.

So much for all the promises you made, they served you well
and now you're gone and they're wasted on me.
So much for your endearing sense of charm, it served you well
and now it's gone and you're wasted on me.

You called to say you wanted out.
Well, I can't say I blame you now.
Sometimes you've got to fold
before you're found out.
Well thanks, thanks for waiting this long to show yourself, show yourself.

Cause now that I can see you,
I don't think you're worth a second glance.

So much for all the promises you made, they served you well
and now you're gone and they're wasted on me.
So much for your endearing sense of charm, it served you well
and now it's gone and you're wasted on me.

I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more
I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more

Do what you must if that's what you wish,
I can't be a party to this.
You have a sense that you were born with.
You'll find a way to make things right.

I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more
I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more
I guess that all you've got is all you're gonna get.
So much for, so much more

Dashboard Confessional, "Rapid Hope Loss"

Song lyrics so stupid...they may actually be genius

Today I present to you five seven songs with lyrics so mindnumbingly bad that I actually *kinda* like them. It's no secret that I'm a lyrics snob. The song can have the best beat on the planet, but if you rhyme "save me" with "save me" (that's right, David Guetta, I'm talking to you), I'm probably going to mock it.

But sometimes--just sometimes--the awfulness of the lyrics actually makes them great. Don't ask me how this works. I don't really know. It's not a formula. It just happens some times.

And without further ado...


Kelis, "Milkshake"
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,
And they're like
It's better than yours

What more do I have to say? Thanks, Kelis, for changing pop culture forever. Or at least for the past 9 years.

I'll take chocolate. With a cherry on top.


Fergie, "Fergalicious"
I'm Fergalicious (so delicious)
My body stay vicious
I be up in the gym just working on my fitness

I really want to know if she misspelled duchess on her album title on purpose or not. Anyway...it's catchy. It's plain freaking awful. And catchy.


Miley Cyrus, "Party in the USA"
And the butterflies fly away
I'm noddin' my head like yeah
I'm movin' my hips like yeah

Okay, this song was written by Jessie J. So it might actually *be* genius. What's that...you don't know who Jessie J is? Shame on you. Go fix that. YouTube will help.


Ke$ha, "Your Love Is My Drug"
My steeze is gonna be affected if I keep it up like a love sick crack head

Made up word? Check. Mild drug reference? Check. Awesomeness? Double check.

I know there's a lot of haters out there, but I love me some K-E-dollar sign-hah. About this time a year ago I was driving around all mopey (mopy? mope-ish?) because the guy I liked didn't like me back. A Ke$ha song came on the radio and I turned it UP. "Nothing like some glitter pop to make you forget about a dumb boy." "YEAH!!!" chimed Riley from the backseat. (Okay...maybe you had to be there. But I promise you it was hilarious.)


3OH!3, "Don't Trust Me"
Shush girl, shut your lips,
Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips

These lyrics have driven me absolutely crazy since the first time I heard them. Really, they make no sense. How did they even make it on this list? Oh well.

Helen Keller learned language from Anne Sullivan tracing letters on her hand. She later learned to read, speak, and write English. Well, the reading was mostly braille. There are no reports of her being promiscuous. So...she didn't talk with her hips, not literally and not figuratively. *sigh*

Plus these lyrics are just...degrading. So while this seems witty on the surface...ehhhh. Maybe.


Shakira, "Suerte"
Suerte que mis pechos sean pequeños
y nos los confundas con montañas
Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem, Shakira. Lucky you, not having to deal with it.


Aerosmith, "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)"
That, that dude looks like a lady
That, that dude looks like a lady
That, that dude looks like a lady
That, that dude looks like a lady

Step one: find catchy phrase. Step two: repeat incessantly. Congratulations, Steven Tyler, you have a song!

Cinderella's folly

March 2011

March 2012

When Riley was first born I felt this frenzied need to get married, to find him a daddy. These feelings were mainly subconscious; in many ways I didn't even realize this until after his first birthday. (Ironically I didn't date at all for much of this time. Who has time for that with a newborn? I had bigger things to worry about.)

My church sponsors an Institute of Religion that offers free religious classes for young adults. In an attempt to get out of the house and make friends I started going to one of these when Riley was about three months old. Driven by my subconscious (and sometimes not so subconscious) need to find someone (anyone! right away!) to spend the rest of my life with, I chose a class on marriage.

I went exactly two times. I honestly don't remember if it happened in the first or second class (or why I even went back if it was the first one), but for one of the class periods the instructor had compiled statistics, quotes from psychologists, and other "evidence" on how single parenting destroys children and crumbles society.

Yeah.

I was three months postpartum. Three months. It wasn't even a matter of being offended; my hormonal self just simply couldn't take being told that I was ruining my child's life...and the world. So I simply stopped going.

Looking back with the luxury of having two-and-a-half years of emotional distance, I suspect he was simply trying to illustrate the importance of marriage. But I felt like a giant failure.

The frenzy continued. I dated guys who maybe weren't the best choices to begin with, but after a long stretch of zero male attention, I was of a beggars-can't-be-choosers mindset. I held on way too tightly (some may have viewed it as desperation) and quickly sent them running in the other direction.

One of them (to his credit, I suppose) stopped running long enough to tell me that he hoped I wouldn't rush too quickly into a marriage, that I would use my brain and think a little. That being alone wasn't the end of the world. After all, that was the life I was already living.

And then at some point, something changed. I changed. I went from clingy-needy vibes to no!-go-away!-stop-trying-to-help-I-can-do-this-ALL-by-myself vibes. (And I wonder why my child is fiercely, dramatically, uncompromisingly independent.)

I'm not sure which is worse, although my instincts say the first one. My first folly was thinking I had to have a man to complete me, to complete us. My second was thinking that, in fact, I do have to do it all on my own to make it worthwhile.

I like to think that I'm a superhero, but maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm not Wonder Woman or a Powerpuff Girl. Maybe I *can't* save the world before bedtime.

It could be that I'm simply a human woman. One who now is perhaps a little too proud of the fact that she has done so much alone.

In the lonely days of my second trimester I discovered that I wasn't too proud to beg. I wanted Ri's dad back more than anything. I told him that I didn't know how to face all of this alone. Pregnancy. Childbirth. Raising a son. He told me that he knew I could do it, knew I'd be fine, because his mom had done it, and so could I. Well...his words proved to be true, but I can't say that I'd call them right. Because it isn't right. It isn't right that Riley thinks I'm both his mommy and his daddy. (Does that mean I'm also going to get a Father's Day present?) It isn't right that I went to every. single. doctor's appointment alone, including the 20-week ultrasound, to the shock of the ultrasound technician. It isn't right that we've spent the last three years living with my parents because I didn't have any better way to put a roof over our heads.

But I did those things. Alone. Because I had to.

But sometimes, being human, having no Y chromosome, I am tired of being alone. Sometimes the loneliness breaks me down...a little. Just a little. And in those moments I crave what so many people take for granted. In those moments I think I'd be willing to let go of some of my pride in exchange for someone to hold me and tell me it's going to all be okay. Someday.

And then ideally he'd bring me ice cream.

PS: I didn't realize until I looked at the picture info that both of them were taken in the month of March. I just wanted one older picture of us and one newer picture. Apparently March is a good month for taking webcam pictures.

Katniss of Shalott

Late Thursday Morning

I awoke in a tower
High, untouchable
Not really sure how I got here
Alone with my mirror, my loom
Bow and arrows and sharpened wit
No doors
Just a window
I looked down...then away
Dizzy
But I could do this
Alone

I saw them coming
Princes, knights, vagabonds
Scaling the wall to reach me
Bastards
So I grabbed my bow
Shot them down
One
By one

This tower
This prison
High
Real
Somehow I'd find my way out
Or die trying
Or die here
But if I can't rescue myself I don't think I'm worth saving

*****

If I was any good at Photoshop (or drawing) I'd composite a picture for this post with a gray brick tower in a grassy field, a girl in the window with her bow and arrow drawn, magnificent green gown, Katniss's side braid but Jennifer Lawrence's natural blonde hair. Muted colors. The word independence etched subtly in the bricks, folly scrawled into the window ledge.

This insomnia is getting bad

I had a breakthrough today. (By today I mean about 1:50am.) I made it through this entire video without crying. It was the second time in a row watching the video, and I bawled through the first go-through, like usual.

I'm not typically a cry-in-a-song-or-movie kind of girl. A lot of songs that are "supposed" to make you cry are really just emotionally manipulative and cliche, and I like to think that my journalism education helps me see through all that.

But this song is real. Real people with real stories of tragic heartbreak. And even though my story nothing like any of theirs, I, too, have a mountain to climb. Sometimes (read: most days) I just plain don't want to. I wonder why I've been dealt this hand. WHY?!?

But I keep climbing.

Also for the first time tonight I began to see how something good might come from my challenges. I can't make the past go away. Truth is, I will never again be the same person I was four years ago, or even four months ago.

And maybe that's okay.