I just got done watching Juno on my tiny little personal dvd player Vance got for me. I thought the movie had the potential of being pretentious and annoying, and at times the soundtrack certainly was, but I was pleased. The ending made me stuff my face in a pillow to muffle my sobs, but all in all…it was one of the happiest movies I have ever seen. Totally left me wanting to do a joyous jig. I really, really needed that happiness.
Today my dad, step-mom and both of my brothers came to visit with us, and to terrorize their one and only grandson and nephew. I was so looking forward to seeing them. I never realize how much I miss them until I find out they’re visiting and I get so excited. When I’m with them I’m totally myself…my annoying, at times obnoxious self. I’m not like that around Vance for some reason. Maybe it’s just something they bring out in me?
In a few years my dad and Barnie (stepmom) are moving to Round Top, which is apparently half way between here and Houston, so no matter where we move, they’ll be about 2 hours away. We might as well stay here, though Vance would rather raise his kids in Friendswood, where he grew up. A lot needs to happen before we can settle anywhere, so we will see where we end up.
Speaking of raising a family, I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I have seriously been thinking about getting pregnant again a lot lately. Don’t worry, I’m not going to. There’s no way we can afford another baby, much less fit one in our tiny home, not to mention that I am not emotionally prepared to part with my awesome and completely effective birth control. It’ll be another couple of years. We did decide (or just me) in the end that we want 3 kids. I pictured the family in my head, and with 2 it still feels a little lonely. I grew up with 2 other siblings, so the family of 5 just makes more sense to me. On my mom’s side of the family, she and every one of her siblings had 3 kids in each family. It’s just a good number. However, It won’t be like in my family, with a 14 year difference between the oldest and youngest sibling, but rather a 5-6 year difference. I don’t know if Vance is still into it, but don’t worry, I’ll talk him into it. We’re still going to try our hardest to have a girl next.
What else is going on? Rush is on Wednesday. I’m pretty sure it’ll be the same tour as last year, so I’m not too disappointed that we’ll in the nosebleed section. It’s Rush, and Rush is greatness no matter where you’re sitting. I entered our name in a contest to win meet and greet passes. We won’t win, because nothing awesome ever happens to our family, so don’t worry. I’m not jinxing anything by mentioning it.
You know, while talking about how awesome Juno was, I forgot to mention my love for Jason Bateman. He has one of the friendliest faces and demeanors out there. He was awesome in Juno as well as Arrested Development. I totally dig this fella.

I’m going to climb into bed. Good night all.

I hate night time. I really do.

I’m awake right now because of Deven’s screwed up sleep schedule. He had me getting up at 1 or 2 am for so long that now I still waking up while he’s sleeping. I can’t go back to sleep, though I do try. I’ve never been a great sleeper and growing up I would often sit up for hours watching tv or just thinking.

It’s so quiet and lonely here at night. It used to be (in the “long, long, ago” as I like to call it) that Vance and I didn’t have bed times or anything important happening before 5pm, so we would just sit up and do nothing. We would drink, or play video games, or just talk. It was nice. I miss having someone to sit up with me and help sort my thoughts. Now I just have a blog that no one reads.

My thoughts are scaring me lately. I never really thought about how scary motherhood could be. I mean, I guess I knew intellectually, but I never truly understood it on any sort of emotional level. I’m constantly worried about something happening to me or Vance, or Deven, or about just how the world in general is going to effect him. I’ve never, ever truly been concerned with the state of my life 10 years down the line, and now I actually have to think about it. It’s almost as though time itself changes when you become a parent. It’s terrifying.

I’ve always had problems with anxiety, so this is no surprise that I pull my hair out thinking about things. I’m generally, other than this, a pretty laid back person.

My new job is fun. It’s a pizza, but on a smaller scale than before. I just do dough and make pizza. This Domino’s does a lot less business than any Papa Johns I have ever worked for, so the the work load is far less. I think I prefer just being an insider as opposed to a manager. Just being able to do my work without having to worry about how every other station is being run, and without being responsible for anything other than myself is niiiiiiiiiice. It’s less money, but that is just fine. The people there are really nice and pretty entertaining. One of my bosses watches Jerry Springer and then describes it to us. It’s AWESOME.

I think I am going to take a bath and try to shake some of this off. Thanks to anyone who actually reads this. Good night all.

The most gruesome thing I have ever read

Oh, wait, it’s hoax

But maybe it isn’t?

I read this last night on an Ivillage messageboard for moms of 9/07 babies. I have a harder time carrying on with the other ladies on the board because I always find ways of separating myself emotionally from certain issues and try to analyze them from a logical stand point, while they tend to shriek bloody murder that, oh my dear Jesus, that girl should be put to death for murdering all of these unborn babies.
Let me clarify, I am pro-choice. I don’t have all the time in the world, so I’m not going to explain my stance, I’m just going to leave it as is. Becoming a mother did not change this, as it does for a lot of women whose fallopian tubes take over the function of their brains (Nancy Grace).
This, on the other hand, totally turned my stomach. It comes to a point that you begin to abuse your rights, which are on shaky ground as is, but also your body’s very ability to reproduce. I doubt this flowy-skirt and sandals wearing hippy really cared about the fact that repeating this act could very well leave her sterile, but does she realize what else it could do?
I don’t know if it’s real, in fact after reading the first article and swallowing that first mouth full of vomit, I thought it could be fake, or an urban legend. But just the idea that someone could do this to themselves over and over again, and then take the remains and put it on display, just shakes me to my core. I have heard of people doing gross things to themselves in the name of mental illness, but not in the name of art. Don’t kid yourself love, no one would want to see this.
And if it is real, can you blame Yale for denying it? No establishment, especially one of higher education, even the most liberal one, would admit to allowing this to happen.
Real or fake, I have had my serving of deplorable gross-ness for the day, or for the rest of the week. I am done.