I always feel insanely narcissistic when I do an update on “how I’ve been” or “what I’ve been up to”.
And I’m a blogger. So that’s saying something. (Because we are inherently narcissistic, I mean.)
But, well, LOOK! BULLET POINTS! ON HOW I’VE BEEN!
(Because I am narcissistic and too lazy for sentence structure.)
0) Hilly and I took my kids to see Disney On Ice in Orlando on Friday. Emma loved the princesses. Devin was disgusted by the fact that he could figure out how all of the special effects were. Hilly and I were brow beaten with the fact that you cannot be a princess without a prince.
0) A woman going through a divorce and a woman going through a separation should probably avoid all things Disney and happily ever after. At all costs.
0) Speaking of costs, my children were severely pissed that I did not buy $10 popcorn, $15 snow cones, or $22 souvenirs. Apparently, having gotten the tickets for free meant I was supposed to spend money on something, or the evening NEVER HAPPENED.
0) You better believe I set my daughter straight on that whole you cannot be a princess without a prince crap.
0) And it is, in fact, crap. I’m making my daughter reread Princess Bubble over and over again until I’m convinced she’s a full fledged feminist. Swear to God.
0) I have absolutely no recollection of Saturday occurring. I probably cleaned something.
0) Speaking of cleaning – I’m kind of obsessed with keeping my house clean lately. I’m all over FlyLady.net and shining my sink.
0) It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to draw the line from life in chaos to let’s clean the damn house at least.
0) I’m pretty sure every time Jared walks into this house now he thinks “OH! SURE! NOW SHE GETS IT!”
0) Except for on Sunday. Sunday when Jared walked into this house (or, at least, out of this house), I’m pretty sure he was thinking “JESUS, RAVING BITCH MUCH?”
0) I was a total and complete asshole to Jared on Sunday. He’s all “OH! Look at me! I’m taking up hobbies and finding myself!” and I was all “FUCK YOU FOR NOT HAVING TO DO LAUNDRY!”
0) No, the two are not related. I know. My assholishness was completely unwarranted and needed to be apologized for.
0) I did, in fact, apologize. Therapy is a good thing.
0) Monday I woke up to crazy text messages from my mom that were, well, um… not nice.
0) At the risk of speaking for her, the gist of it was “PLEASE DEAR GOD DO NOT FUCK UP YOUR LIFE BY BEING AN ASSHOLE.”
0) Except what she really meant was “Dear God I love you and do not want you to hurt.”
0) While the first part of Monday sucked while I waited to actually talk to my mom, the talking to my mom was very, very good.
0) By the way, do not send text messages to people and then be unavailable for several hours. Not. Cool. My new motto is: don’t start a fight you don’t have the time or energy to finish.
0) I’m totally OK with telling the Internet this because a) I already told my mom this and b) I do it all the time. We all do. And we all need to knock it the fuck off, because it’s not. cool.
0) But back to the personal and intimate conversations between a mother and a daughter – mom and I are good. Really good.
0) BUT! More importantly! Talking to her made me stand up for myself and my decisions and say, out loud, the things that I have been working on. Her fear did not diminish my faith in myself – and that’s a pretty big deal. Because, you know, she’s my mom.
0) Therapy is really, really good. Seriously. Everyone should get some.
0) I need a code name for my therapist. I probably said “my therapist said” 20 times to Faiqa this weekend. It was obnoxious. I’m going to start lying and saying “my neighbor said” or “my cat said” or “I was talking to my 4 year old about my marriage and she reminded me that”… because all of those things are less obnoxious than “my therapist said”.
0) OH MY GOD! FAIQA!
0) So, um, on Saturday? I did not clean. I spent about 6 hours at Faiqa’s house having lunch, holding her baby, and talking to her about everything under the sun.
0) And then two days later I wrote a post and said “Saturday pretty much didn’t happen.”
0) This is why people are dying to be friends with me. Clearly.