ok, short and quick.
Granny broke her ankle – will be offline for at least 6 weeks if not more. Maybe. I’m still trying to work out the logistics of getting to the library for connectivity.
I’m keeping a diary of sorts, but it’s damn wordy, and I don’t have FTP access here to upload the basic text file for a separate page. I’ll figure out what to do then.
Take care of yourselves, love one another, and if you need me, you’ll know where I am.
*kissies*
Too much to do and not enough time to do it in. I’m taking my notebook with me to Granny’s and write a few articles while I’m there, but I doubt if I’ll be able to do any posting. I ended up inviting my babysitting job cousin to go with us, so the folkies are all well aware of where I’m going and how long I’ll be gone. I didn’t think I could stand a week of Alannah whining about (gasp the HORROR!) basic cable and living in the sticks.
Upcoming topics include:
Daddy Dearest – my own take on remittance_girl’s post at This Big Hush
Virginity – the Second Time Around – I first encountered this concept when I read either Postcards from the edge or Surrender the Pink by Carrie Fisher. In one of those books, her main character decides that if the relationship doesn’t work out, she’s a virgin again. Since I’m living the celibate life currently, I can definitely see how this concept might work.
Demolishing the “Brick House” – how having children caused my ass to widen, tits to get saggy and milky, and how I’m lovin’ it. (Ok, most likely this one will never make it past this point.)
Do you have anything you want me to cover, dear reader? Any burning desires to get my opinion on something or more detail on topics I’ve touched on in the past? Leave a comment here or email it to me!
LunaNi?a.com | Unconscious Mutterings: Week 76
We interrupt your regularly scheduled custom template to show you what the original CSS looked like.
(Translation – I didn’t keep a current backup of the index page, and Joe “helped” me make some rather interesting adjustments to it.)
update: nevermind! 
Mom, would you ask an atheist to tell you how good of a christian you are?
No.
Then why would you ask someone who doesn’t believe in homeschooling how well your homeschooled child is doing?
I didn’t say she didn’t believe in homeschooling.
Yes you did. You said she thinks homeschooling is a “mom’s cop out”. That’s not supportive of homeschooling at all. I understand you have Alannah’s best interests at heart. That’s why I didn’t point out last night that it’s NOT your decision to make, nor do I have to prove jack to you. Me PARENT!
*glares* Fine, then. I wash my hands of the whole deal. You’ll find out what a bad job you’re doing, but it’ll be *dramatic pause* TOO LATE BY THEN. You’ll see.
What good came of this? Alannah helped point out during our argument yesterday that she spends *hours* learning Spanish and doodling. She also watched me get pissed, and then come back and bowl mom over with facts.
And I’m STILL going to Granny’s, and not telling her where I’m going *neener neener neener*.
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It’s time to blow this popsicle stand. Get on the bus, gus. Make a new plan, Stan.
Sperm donors, if you ever THOUGHT about paying child support, now would be a good time.
I have obligations to meet for this weekend. After those obligations are met, I will be on the road. We’ve been invited to Holly’s for a day or 3, then I’ll be going straight from there to Granny’s house. Granny wants us to stay for a week, and I have every intention of NOT telling dear Mama where I’m going. Let her think what she will. If Granny wants to tell her I’m there, let her. After that, who knows.
I sat down to the dinner table to the words of my Mother:
Well, since we’re all sittin here, we need to have an intervention conversation.
It went downhill from there. She wants Alannah in a private or christian school. Why? Because SHE doesn’t see MY kid doing 6 hours of work a day. We spent the better part of an hour with my intelligence being insulted, Alannah’s requests being ignored, HER intelligence being insulted….all because Mom wants a PROFESSIONAL to interpret Alannah’s yearly test scores.
She read the report and keeps focusing on the word “average” – as in “Why do you want Alannah to be just average?” and she apparently doesn’t want to believe what she’s reading. I am rather proud that my 11-year-old daughter is an average 7-TH GRADER. [For those without children - most 11-year old kids are in the 5th/6th grade]
Mom has control issues. And it irritates the everloving SHIT out of her that she has no control in the situation.
I have never fought so hard the urge to pack a load of clothes in the van, take the kids and hit the highways.
We need another box of 100 balls so we can bury the boys like they want to. And now they’re BEGGING to get into the pack n play.
SCORE!
is where you’ll find me these days. My few bastions of IRL adult conversation have withered and faded. They move, they get busy with their own families, I get busy with MY family….you know how it is.
Speaking to other adults gets more and more difficult. I find myself in “Mommy” mode even with them. Or worse, I go off into academia, leaving them blinking and trying to escape making promises of future get-togethers. Striking up conversations with strangers on IM is strained at best. I can’t think of what to say, how to say it without feeling like I just interrupted something IMPORTANT going on in their online lives.
Lists of books that I ABSOLUTELY. MUST. READ. are full. The books I check out from the library mostly go unread. I sit down, and the sound of the book spine cracking is a call to pounce! on me from three sides.
The library itself is a voluptuous orgasm of the written word, but is more arid than the Sahara when it comes to meeting someone, ANYone.
I hint to people that I IM on a regular basis that I’d like a real conversation on the phone – not a bleak “How ya doin?” with no tone of voice. I even told one person flat out “Call me, I can’t sit here and type.” The message fell on deaf ears. Later on in another conversation I offered to smack him with a clue-by-four….but he just laughed and called me “cute”.
I’ve looked into taking a night class or two. It’s just not possible right now due to scheduling conflicts and the lack of a babysitter.
Hours were spent last night composing an email to Joe’s father sperm donor, thanking him for this wonderful gift of a child who will be turning a year old in a few weeks. Why didn’t I send it? The fear that he would read it as a sarcastic dig since there’s no tone of voice.
Can you hear me now?
