Oh, he's mine all right...

Me: "I'm going to go run your bath, little guy. Try not to destroy anything while I'm gone."

Chaos:  Smiles sweetly, gurgles. (sitting on bed, fully clothed, playing with toy.)

30 seconds later - It's too quiet. I go to check on him. Find pantsless baby removing framed pictures from wall and dismantling them.

30 frickin seconds to get half nekkid and start wrecking shit. Man, I love that kid.

Driving the Farm Truck

I'm fairly sure that my new-to-me car has been parked in my driveway most nights. I use it on a daily basis. I can say with almost total authourity that it hasn't been sitting in the back 40 for the last six months.

So how the fuck do I have mice in my car?

I'd love to post more on this subject, but I have to go clean my car out. Like, now.

NaBloPoMo prompt day

I'm having kind of a rough time being able to write. It's not for lack of things to write about; my life provides ample material for that. It's more that I'm dog tired.

It's molar cutting season around these here parts, and it's a miserable process. I sleep when Cap'n Chaos sleeps, and I comfort him when he's awake. I wish those fucking molars would come in so that I could get some laundry done or run some errands without all hell breaking loose. I'll probably hold a grudge against his molars for the rest of my life. Sad, but true.

So I'm going with the daily prompt from over at the NaBloPoMo site.

What is the biggest sacrifice you've ever made for someone? Was it worth it?

When I was nineteen, I fell head over heels in Love. No - IN LOVE. First time; we all know what that's like. Well, in a fit of teenagey-angsty-Iloveyoumorethananythinginthewholeworldandwoulddieforyou stupidity, I gave my soul to my beloved.

Seriously. I just said "you can have it" without a second thought as to what I may have been doing. Honestly, I'm pretty pragmatic about that kind of thing anyhow. I didn't think there would be any repercussions, much the same way I don't believe I will see pearly gates (or more likely hellfire and brimstone) and all my long lost relatives when I die. It didn't occur to me at the time that I actually did, on some empheral level, believe in my own soul.

What followed was seven years of pure hell. I floundered through my twenties. Bad things and bad people happened to me. I couldn't find my shit, much less get it together. I didn't know who I was, didn't know what I wanted, where I was going. I dropped out of college three times, then out of life altogether. I struggled with addiction and severe depression.  They were the darkest years of my life.

Now, I realize that a lot of this sounds like a chapter in the lives of many people. I also realize that to blame it all on something like verbally giving your soul away to a teenage love is a little naive. But I am convinced that I made a huge mistake saying those words all those years ago.

The number seven is associated with good fortune, luck, and forgiveness in several cultures, including our own. It is prominent in diverse circles of math and science. I won't pretend I know anything past that, but I do know that it took me seven years to earn my soul back after that slip, and I won't be letting it happen again.

Was it worth it? Yes it was. From that one seemingly innocuous youthful encounter, I've learned a great deal about my own belief system, about myself. I was allowed to peer over a precipice that most people simply fall from, and I was shown what life without my own soul would look like. To say it wasn't pretty would be to lay a thin veneer of words over the sheer horror of what I saw.

Every day I am thankful for those seven awful years. Every day I am thankful that I was allowed to leave them behind. I will deal with the psychic and physical scars from those seven years for the rest of my life, to be sure, but I survived for a reason. Even in my darkest times nowadays, I remember that, and I am willed to go on and be the best person I can be for myself, and indeed, for my soul.

Take it To Heart

Dear Baby Daddies;

When you make a commitment to your ex and your child, stand by it, no matter how trivial you may consider it to be.  I can assure you that you ex does not consider it trivial. You probably don't understand, but being a full time single mom is really, really tough. Your ex  may have to work, she may have appointments, she may be going to school or working on a project, or she may just need a couple of hours to have coffee with a friend, go to yoga, go for a walk. None of these things are any more important than the other. She is doing what she needs to do in order to be the best parent that she can be for your child/ren.

Your commitment to your child/ren is equally, if not more, important. They may be too young to be let down when daddy doesn't show up, or they may not show their disappointment, but they are learning all the time.  You are always setting an example. You are also setting a precedent. Your child/ren are relying on you to teach them to keep their word, no matter what. They are also relying on you to teach them -  through actions, not merely through words - that they are loved and valued enough that you will come through for them when you say you will.

So, once again, baby daddies, I implore you. Stand by your commitments to your exes and your children. In the end you will be helping to better all of your lives.

The Pearl

She had a pearl. One perfect, opulent pearl. She had been born with it; had never known life without the pearl. When she was young, she hid the pearl from everyone. She didn't  know why she had it, didn't know what to do with it. She didn't know if other people had pearls, or if they had anything like the pearl - one unique, perfect endowment that had been with them as long as they could remember. She was afraid to ask, fearing exposure.

The pearl stayed with her through the years. There was nothing she could do to get rid of it. She felt she would not be the same person without it. Sometimes, that sounded good, when she did not want to be the person she was. She wanted to try on different cloaks, wrap herself in different personas. She felt there was one out there that would suit her better than the one she had.

Still there was this sameness. This pearl. No matter how far away she went, how many different lives she lived, the pearl stayed. It aged with her, became burnished and rich from wear. It suited every cloak she ever wore. It was the perfect accessory to her constantly changing styles. It became more beautiful with age.

If You Don't Fall, You're Not Learning.

*When I was twelve, my snowboarding instructor told me "If you don't fall, you're not learning."
It's stuck with me through all these years.*

Hi y'all. Hi NaBloPoMo. Did you miss me?

No?

Well, I guess it was only yesterday that I copped out. That doesn't give much time for the heart to grow fonder.

Well, I missed you.

I stayed up all night thinking about what I had done. Questioning my decision to back down in the face of adversity. That's not really me. To be fair, I stand by my not wanting to post a bunch of crap that I really don't care about on my blog, but seriously. I just can't throw my hands up and walk away when the going gets tough.

I mean, I'm a single mom, for Chrissake. I would never give up on that. I'm a caregiver to an elder. How would that have gone down, after a few months of being here and realizing how fucking tough that job is, to just walk away? "Sorry, grams. I know I told you I'd help you stay in your home as long as possible, but I didn't realize how hard it was going to be. If I can't do it perfectly, I don't want to do it at all. See you around."

C'mon. I can hardly bring myself to write that, let alone do it.

I'll give you the shirt off my back if I love you. I'll bend over backwards making sure you have what you need to be happy, healthy, and comfortable. I'll push my own needs aside for you.

That's all fine and good, but I need to do those things for myself too. I tend to give up on the things that are important to me, simply because I'm too fucking busy doing things for everyone else, and I don't have the time or energy (or divinity) to do it perfectly, the first time around. I don't like fucking up. Especially not in public. And that's not cool. It kind of stands in the way of being open and learning.

NaBloPoMo was important to me because I set myself a goal that I knew would be difficult. Attainable, for sure, but out of my comfort zone.I've enjoyed being forced to think of things to post about every day. I've loved writing every day. I may have grumbled, but I knew I was working towards that goal. And dammit if some of that stupid novel that's been writing itself in my head, but nowhere else, hasn't been rearing it's (ugly) head. That was exciting, even if it does read like a damn harlequin romance right now. Sigh. It'll get better. That's the whole point of writing every day.

So anyway, here's me, copping out on copping out. I'm gonna make spelling and grammatical errors that I may not catch right away (omg I think I just threw up a little bit), and my blog may look like a scratch pad for the next twenty-two days, but damn if I'm gonna give up on this.

Wish me luck. And finely honed editing skills.

This is me, copping out

So here's the deal. There's a lot of really shitty writing on the interweb. Really. Shitty Writing.

I don't want to be a part of that. Filling up space with crappy writing that I didn't have time to think about, don't have time to edit, and really don't give a good goddamn about is not something I want to be invloved in.

 I have a whole lot of shit going on in my life right now. It would be amazing if I managed to get one well written, well edited piece of writing out by the end of the month (I promise, I will try).

Maybe next year, when the boys are older and  I don't have any loved ones in hospital, I'll be able to give NaBloPoMo a real shot. Right now, I'm not. So here's me, copping out.

Be back when I have something real to say.

Island#3

The ferry's ancient motor started up and the captain gave a short blast of the horn, warning anything in the way to move. It was merely protocol on a day like this. There would be nothing else out on the water. Not in this weather. The tide was coming in, creating a strong current, and the wind was blowing the chop around, high waves already breaking against the bow. There was a storm coming on.

Another storm, thought Elise.

dodged a bullet there...

I got stuck on a mad click-through binge from my reader and ended up reading this (by a blogger I have come to have a great amount of respect for). I have to say, every time I read shit like this, I am truly glad I'm single.

I don't mean any disrespect to those of you who have worked damn hard to make a marriage work and last the test of time. I truly believe that it is an amazing feat to accomplish. But I know that, with my horrendous taste in men, if I were ever to marry, this is where I would end up. And I don't want that. Not for myself, not for my kids.

In closing, I would like to thank every shitty fucking boyfriend I've ever had (which is all of them) for helping me realize just how amazing I am, how much more I desereve, and how, holy shit, I am so much better on my own. I am truly grateful to each and every one of you.

Another confession

I don't want to spend my precious time writing this blog post. I want to be sitting here passively, reading other people's posts. I want to be entertained, and maybe inspired. No, fuck inspired. I have lots of inspriation in my life right now. It's motivation I'm lacking.

Maybe it's not even that. Chaos is cutting his first molars as I write, and just wants to be held. All day long.  Which makes things like cooking supper and doing laundry difficult. And those things are neccessary. A blog entry a day? Not so much.

But of course, I make it out to be lack of motivation. There's something wrong with me. I've begun another project that I won't finish, and it's due to my own laziness, right?

So I lay awake, thinking of what I could possibly write about, frittering away my precious sleep time until Chaos wakes for comfort and Tylenol in the middle of the night. Now, he's sleeping soundly again (thank g-d) and I'm still up, tapping away my guilt over unfinished business.

NaBloPoMo FAIL. Sort of.

This isn't fiction. It's real life. Sigh.

Tonight, I held Captain Chaos in my arms and rocked him long past the time when he fell asleep. I find myself doing this more often these days. It's not neccessary anymore - at least, it's not for him. But I know this time is drawing to a close, and I find myself wanting to savour every last second of it.

Every day my little guy takes another step (sometimes literally) towards independence. The things he learns and the pace that he's learning them at astound me. I'm so proud of him. Today, when he looked up from his little red barn and took two steps into my arms, he probably made me the happiest person in the entire world.

I watch as he races through his days, devouring all the sights and sounds and experiences (and food) he can handle. It's amazing. Sometimes I scoop him up as he careens past, just for a quick kiss and a snuggle. We play together, and then he's off on another adventure.

I know that he'll need me for a long time to come yet. But this particular ritual, which I've cherished so much, is coming to an end. I can see from here.

 So I sit, just a little bit longer, with my special little guy sleeping away on my shoulder, and I rock.

I Made Stuff!

I've been dying to do this one for a while. It's the last page of Sandra Boynton's lovely The Going to Bed Book. (We don't sing it, but I couldn't help myself when I found that video. Heh heh.)

Chaos loves this picture, so I made it into a couple of panels for above his bed. Now I'm all inspired. I'm gonna make more panels from favorite stories, to hang in our story corner. Whee!!

Oh, and yes, that's The Bump encroaching on pix one and three. :)

NaBloPoMo#3 Island cont...

Elise weaved her way back through the cars and headed upstairs to the warmth and comfort of the passenger lounge. In good weather, the passage between islands was only ten minutes, but in inclement weather like this, it could take much longer. She was not inclined to spend that much time getting soaked, getting colder than she already was.

She settled into a seat and looked out the window. Ahead, the island rose from the grey chop, a lopsided mountain peak covered in dark green forest and shrouded in thick fog at the top. It had always been a foreboding place in the winter; isolated, far from the mainland. Far from everything. Elise smiled. Though she hadn’t lived there for more than twenty years, it still felt like coming home.

Wordless Wednesday

I blinked, and he'd turned into a toddler, off to explore the world on his own terms.

NaBloPoMo 2: Unheeded

Unheeded, his plea faded away into the white noise of the city. His clothing, the color of dust and uv rays, camouflaged him against the cement. No one saw him dissolving in the rain among castoff coffee cups and yesterday's news. Eventually he was washed away into the gutters, swirling briefly at the sewer grate, for once shining bright in a million stars; streetlight refracted in water.

NaBloPoMo1: Island.

The first thing that came to mind was a cup, no, a carafe of coffee. The second, a pen.

Wind blew sea spray across the bow of the ferry where she stood among the cars, bringing her back with a stinging salt slap to the face. The carafe of coffee and the pen would have to wait until this frigid journey ended.

What the fuck am I thinking??

So.

 I am crazy overrun busy, 8 and some odd months pregnant (and completely unprepared), and I have no clue how this damn NaBlowPogo thing works. Oh, and I'm starting a day late. But what the hell! I'm a feet-first kinda girl. So, here goes nothing. Prepare for a lot of inanity.

Also, I'm doing fiction. Yes, I am batshit crazy, for those of you who don't already know.

Happy Hallowe'en!

Bet you've never seen a tiger eating an apple and wearing monkey-face shoes before!