My blog is like a box of chocolates.

I’ve been in a bizarre not-so-funny phase lately on this blog.  The ebb and flow of life has deposited me into a mostly serious, muddy puddle.  I think I’ll float around in this puddle for a while… I kind of like it.  It’s cold, but refreshing… dirty, and real feeling.

For the past few days I’ve been feeling guilty.  I’ve felt bad for not “living up to” what people read me for – so I haven’t been writing.  My blog name is funny.  My header is fun looking.  I had to shake off the guilt of misleading you all.  In truth… I have no niche.  There is no “tone” to my blog.  A lot of you probably just don’t know what to expect anymore.

The “experts” say that people like to know what they’re getting.  People want to visit certain websites for their daily laugh, another one for their political commentary, another to feel spiritually uplifted.  I get that… originally that was my plan.  You were all supposed to come visit, shoot whatever liquid you were drinking out of your nose, smile, laugh at my expense, and then go about your day.

But this space is a reflection (although sometimes distorted) of my life.

Life is a fickle bitch.

I’ve decided not to reign her in.

Right now I’m stressed to my limit, I’m exhausted, and the world around me seems strange and foreign most of the time.  I have anxiety over the asparagus going bad in the fridge because I haven’t had time to cook it, while raging over the fact that politicians are trying to take away my choices as a woman.  I read certain headlines, and have to peek in my garage for the DeLorean, because surely I need to get back to the future.

Then my preschooler will do an interpretive dance to the music of his pinball game, and I’ll laugh not noticing the baby vomiting in my hair.

I’m counting on the fact that some of you out there still like surprises.

Because this blog is like a box of chocolates.

Sometimes it’s the coveted piece with the cherry inside.

Sometimes it’s just bitter, dark chocolate.

Sometimes it’s got fluffy, not-marshmallow, not-nougat, mystery filling.

Sometimes it oozes liquor.

And sometimes it’s a little nutty.

 

"You never know what you're gonna get."

 

 

PS- This blog is NOT one of those boxes that you turn over, and can read on the underside which pieces have what in them before you pick.

PPS- I’m starting to think Rachel Maddow is kind of hot.

Surprise!

 

 

With the not noticing.

Hot Nerd:  (stroking my hair in bed) Oh, look at that! You got something sparkly in your ear.

Me:  (touching the stud earrings I was wearing) Um… yeah.  (listening to the monitor from our older son’s room) I bought these with that gift card my mom got me for my birthday.

Hot Nerd:  It’s nice. It makes your ears all pretty.

Me:  (glancing at the other baby monitor on my side of the bed) I know.  Sometimes it’s nice to feel pretty.

Hot Nerd:  Well you should wear them more often!

Me:  (looking at the clock) I do.

Hot Nerd:  Huh?

Me:  (calculating the time before the baby’s next feeding) I have been.

Hot Nerd:  Have been what?

Me:  (looking dead at him) Wearing them.

Hot Nerd: *blink*

Me: I put them on in the car after I bought them…

Hot Nerd:  *blink*

Me:  For my birthday…

Hot Nerd:  *blink blink*

Me:  Three months ago…

Hot Nerd:  *blink blink blink*

Me:  I haven’t taken them off.  Ever.

Hot Nerd:  Well, yeah!

Me:  (side eyeing him) Mm hm.

Hot Nerd:  Pshh… (shrug)… yeah… of course… good… (smile)… I know…

Me:  I mean, I really haven’t taken them off at-

Hot Nerd:  Shhhh.  Shushie.  Enough with the talking.  It’s make out time.

Me: Seriously… have you not noticed these at-

Hot Nerd:  (cupping my face) Nuh uh uh uh… we said it would be make out time, not fighting time.  This is the time… the only time we have…

for

the

making out.

I thought about being mad at him.  I thought about complaining for the bazillionth time about him not paying attention… not caring… not noticing what I say or do.

Hot Nerd: (wiggling a finger at my ears) There small.  They’re little… tiny… sparkly things.

And I realized we hadn’t been that close… physically… in front of each other… looking at each other in the face, in a really long time.  I couldn’t remember the last time we had looked, and taken each other in.

He had tried, I think.  But for the bazillionth time, I didn’t pay attention… didn’t care… didn’t notice.

Hot Nerd:  Stop.  It’s make out time.

 

And it was.

So we did.

 

 

 

Best 15 minutes in a long time.

I sat there in my parked car in the garage for a few minutes.  There was no three year old asking endless questions.  There was no wailing baby in the backseat.  There was no husband grilling me on which way was North, which way was South, and how much of the monthly budget money I had left.

It felt odd, like someone had taken away my appendages.  There was nobody.  There was nothing.  I sat there and thought my own thoughts… thoughts that haven’t had the space to exist in so so long.

Then I took a deep breath, put the key in the ignition, and pulled out of the driveway.

I rolled down the window.

I turned up the radio in an attempt to squeeze out the theme song to The Wonder Pets that was slowly creeping into my brain.

I giggled.

Then I felt it…

that feeling…

freedom.

A Pat Benatar song came on the radio, and even though I couldn’t for the life of me remember the words, it was the best song ever.

I sung at the top of my lungs.

We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder.

Weeee belong to the sound of the words

we’ve both fallen under.

Whatever hmm feeny hm hmm for bum bum bum better.

WE BELONG, WE BELONG, WE BELONG TOGETHER!

My foot pressed a little heavier on the gas.

I ran my fingers through my hair as I sang – pretending I was in a music video.

Maybe hmph a hm na na na when la la hmph a to SAY.

Maybe hm hmmm hmmm … na na… fum fum… AY.

It was the best ride I had had in ages.

Part of me wanted to drive to nowhere.

Part of me wanted to throw a dart at a map.

But I didn’t.

I sang.

I had a concert.

I was a caged bird who had escaped…

and my destination was the Trader Joe’s parking lot to buy groceries.

 

 

Best

drive

ever.

 

This colic too shall pass…

We’ve just passed the four month mark.

It’s as if the Gods smiled down on us and said “Let the colic pass.”

Knock on wood.

The biggest piece of wood I can find…

Like a Sequoia.

 

 

I was going to tell you a story…

I was going to tell you a story…

But I showered instead.

The four day old crust was begging to be sloughed off.

Then I was going to tell you a story again…

But I ate something.

I’ve learned to shove my face when I have any spare moment – a wild animal.

Then, this one time, I was going to tell you a story…

But with the sleepy sleepy I fell.

I am a bottom dweller on Maslow’s pyramid of needs.

“breathing, food, water, sex, sleep, homeostasis, excretion”

You’d be surprised at the ones I’m missing.

I have a story for you.

In fact, I have five.

But the sleepy sleepy is calling again…

or maybe personal hygiene should take precedence…

and that glass of water is too far…

forget it…

I hear a baby crying anyway.

Or is that me?

I’ve got so many stories for you.

But at this moment…

excretion wins.