Posted in escape, family, kids, Life, love, parenting, People, random, relationships, Uncategorized

Bad Dreams

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Occasionally, over the past few months, and every night, for the past few nights, I have been having terrible dreams. They are all slightly different versions of the same dream, actually…if you are a mother, I would be willing to bet you have had them yourself. In this dream, my youngest daughter has gone missing. She is gone without a trace. I am searching for her frantically, and no one seems to be nearly as concerned as they should be. I find myself unable to trust anyone because no one has any idea what has happened to her, so it could be anyone. Not last night, but the night before, the last part of the dream consisted of me sitting in a car with her father. I looked at him, in so much emotional pain that I could barely remain in my skin, and I asked him “do you think she is still alive?”. I woke up before he could answer me.

The weird thing about this dream is that, usually, we find her again. It is always three days that she is missing, and when she shows up, she can’t tell us anything about where she has been or who she has been with. Last night, when I tried to question her about who had taken her, she just fell apart crying, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask anything more. Also odd is that, despite my relief at having her back, those three days that I lose are maddening for me. I cannot bear not knowing what happened to my child. The dreams are very disturbing and awful. I have no idea why I am having them, or what I can do.

Camryn is a whirlwind of a child. She has more energy coursing through her than three average three year olds put together. Spending long periods of time with her can be…challenging, to say the least. She is never quiet. She is never still. She is ALWAYS getting into things she shouldn’t be,  “experimenting” with my favorite earrings, pouring milk in her kaleidoscope, decorating my books with her drawings. When I scold her, she asks me “Do you still love me, mommy?” and I tell her that there is NOTHING she could do that would ever make me stop loving her. There is nothing.

Her mind is as busy as her body. She has hundreds of questions, every hour of every day, ranging from “Do rhino’s get lonely?”  to “why do people speak Spanish?” to “Why does that lady have a little girl, too?”. I don’t always have answers for her. But sometimes, I don’t WANT to answer her. To be honest with you, sometimes, I just want her to stop bugging me. I have a lot going on in my head, too, and it’s hard when you can’t sort anything out because your kid NEVER STOPS TALKING. EVER.

I am impatient. I am snippy and short and sometimes meaner than I ought to be, especially when I have too much to deal with at once, or I have been too long between stretches of quiet. I forget to play, sometimes, and I definitely forget that, when it comes down to it, I am dealing with a beautiful, perfect, happy, wonder of a child. A child who says “This water feels WONDERFUL.” When she is in the bath, and asks me “Wanna snugga bugga?” (cuddle) when she crawls in bed with me. The same kid who painted all my spare change with nail polish is also the kid who won’t let me say a harsh word against her sister, thinks her dad and I are “so beautiful” and asks for a hug when she gets in trouble. 

Maybe these dreams are supposed to remind me to be infinitely grateful for my perfect, healthy, gorgeous children. Because I tell you what- when I wake up, night after night having these dreams, the first thing I do is reach for that little girl. I hug her and kiss her little arms, and I am still terrified, but I am so relieved. And every day, I try to remember to be better. I don’t always succeed, that’s for sure. But I do try. Today I am going to try even harder. Because I love that girl. Both of my girls. And also, I need to get some damn sleep.

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Posted in humor, Life, love, People, random, relationships, Uncategorized

Breaking Up: It Really IS Hard to do.

That song, old as it may be, knows of what it speaks. I know- you would think a woman rapidly approaching an age so advanced she no longer feels great about blurting it out (even though I still look GOOD, thank you) would already be aware of this, right? Well, as I may have mentioned here, or maybe in my REAL blog (just kidding, this one is real, too), I am a super late bloomer. I was too busy doing drugs in bathroom stalls all across the west coast to form many mature, enduring bonds. So this is pretty much the first time I have gone this far into something with another, fully invested, human being. And it has utterly failed. Which really sucks.

Argh! I am writing this to cheer myself up and be funny, and instead those last few sentences sent me running for another roll of toilet paper to sop up my face with. As you can tell, I am a little emotional. I guess that is normal, but what do I know? I know I could have probably been over it and on with my life if I had just pulled the plug way back when I first realized we weren’t going to make it. Shit, I could have been happily married after an average length engagement by now, if I would have done that. That’s okay, though. Some of the things I would have missed out on if I had were totally worth all the rest of this suckage.

Some of the things going through my head that I catch myself thinking are pretty understandable- things like: “What if this is actually the best you can do? What if this is really a great relationship and you are just a total fucking bitch and you are throwing it all away?” or “What if you just can’t be happy, period?” Luckily, though, I realize that these are trick questions posed to me by my own frightened heart. This is not the best I can do, it is not a great relationship, I AM a total fucking bitch, because I am miserable, and anything that makes you feel that way is okay to throw away. I know I am easily capable of happiness, because even in the midst of all this heartache, I have moments of it every day. The less weighted down I am by all of this turmoil, the easier it will be for me to laugh again.

Some other things I wonder about are, does it take this long for other people to split up? I mean, we have basically been in the process of parting, seriously, for the better part of the past year. Before that, even, I knew we were headed that way. I guess I just always thought that people had enough, broke up, divided up their stuff, and parted ways. Now that I am going through it, I realize it takes a long time to really throw the towel in. It has to hurt pretty bad, for pretty long, to finally admit you have lost. Even then, when you pretty much know that sticking around is probably going to destroy you, it is still hard and sad to say goodbye. I don’t know why I need to know if that is normal or not- all I need to know is that it is what is happening in my life, and I am dealing with it the best I can.

Some of the more amusing thoughts I have noted scampering through my twisted little mind are these:

“I guess this means I am going to have to start being fussy about how I look all the time, now.”

“What if he finds someone faster than me? And what if she is prettier than me? And younger? (etc., etc.)” Then I realize what I am thinking, and that I don’t want to even date anyone for a good, long time…and also, how much of a bummer it will be for the next girl, when she realizes what she is dealing with. Maybe she’ll get lucky, and be too dumb to see through the nonsense. Maybe, just maybe, he won’t fool around on her. Maybe I should just stay out of his imaginary future relationships, though.

My very favorite candid thought so far, though, has got to have been this: “What if the next guy I’m with has a smaller penis?” I seriously contemplated this, and came to the conclusion that…well, that would really suck. I don’t know what else I can say about that. Except, REALLY? THAT is what you are worrying about?

Well…it’s one of the things. But at least it was a funny thing. Anyway, I am doing the best I can, and sometimes I feel more like posting than other times. I don’t want to bring the whole blogosphere down with my sad little life, so lots of times, I write in my handy-dandy notebook (thanks, Blue’s Clues, for that) instead. But I am always writing.

When I’m not, you know… thinking about the next ( hopefully enormous), penis I might encounter. Have a fabulous day!