Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and how they became fears.
1) After Saturday, and having a car blow up in my damn face, I can definitely say that I fear dying. Not because it might hurt or I'm scared of the afterlife. . But of leaving Willow alone in this world. Of leaving JP to be a single dad. That terrifies me.
So, now I have to tell you all the story, because it's crazy, and every few minutes I have to keep reminding myself that I didn't make it up. Saturday, I was at work, I was just getting ready to make a safe drop because I had been putting it off for hours and I had way too much money in my register. So, there's no one in the store, no one is fueling outside, it's quiet. I count money, get ready to enter it into the computer and I hear the worst sound I have ever heard in my life. It was really, really loud. I know that this was partially because of the intercom being on, but damn, it was loud. So, naturally, I looked outside! That's when I see a car on it's hood sliding straight at me. There were sparks and smoke coming off of it and it was coming STRAIGHT FOR MY FACE. I'm not even lying. Straight for my fucking face. Really, really, really fast. So, I run the opposite direction, thinking I could make it behind the counter or best case scenario to the kitchen or the back room and maybe, maybe escape with my life. I look back for some stupid reason and see the car airborne. I know I was yelling something about cars blowing up. . . So honestly, at this point, I literally had no clue what was going on. It was like time was standing still and I was stuck in this bubble, with tons of money in my hand and I didn't know where to run or what to do or say and I thought I was going to die. I thought of Willow. That was the only tangible thought I remember having. Finally, my coworkers came out of the kitchen and one of them, thank god, had her head about her to yell instructions. So, I shut off the gas, called 911 (they already knew about it, some cop had seen it happening) and ran out there. There was a man holding his elbow sitting right in front of the store door. Right next to him was a detached car door. I thought it was the man from the car and he had somehow, miraculously, gotten thrown from the car. It turns out he had gotten hit in the face with the car door but was fine.
So, this is how I have pieced the events together based on what I remember and what emergency personnel told me.
The guy, Michael Basso, 55 years old, from Woodridge, gets off 55 and turns right towards town. Sometime after that and before he gets to Dempsey's car lot (about 1/8th of a mile from the exit) he dies of something that I'm assuming causes his foot to clamp down on the gas, because of how fast he was going. He goes off the road, through the grass, hits one of the ramps that a show car was on, and goes airborne. He then crosses a road, comes through the Casey's parking lot and straight for the window that I was looking out of. Somehow, he bounces off the sidewalk, and then it's a little muddled. He hit that guy with his car door, crashed into the front of an SUV parked at one of the pumps and ended up with his car wrapped around the van of the guy who was hit in the face. In the meantime, he also managed to wrap one of our signs around it's pole, break an intercom and hit the bottom of the gas pump at a completely different pump. The signs and intercom are about 10 feet up.
Between running around putting "out of order" signs on all the pumps and selling cigarettes to some douchebag who decided he couldn't wait or go to another store, I finally realize that the guy sitting in front of the store is not the driver.
Lots of time elapses where we're cleaning the store because the super big kahuna lady shows up and freaking out because this kind of shit only happens in movies, and over 3 hours later they get the body out from under the car.
I finally went home an hour and a half after I was supposed to go home. I had to get a ride from someone because my car was blocked by firetrucks and we walked a very, very crabby Willow home. She hadn't eaten in 8-9 hours (she still won't take a bottle) and it was way past her bedtime.
Now that it's all over, I'm unsure of what to feel. People keep asking me if I'm ok, and I am, but I don't know how I'm supposed to react. I keep thinking I made it up, but the pictures are real.
2) I'm afraid of paranormal stuff. Ghosts, zombies, demons, even a good conspiracy theory will get me freaked out. At the same time, I love that stuff. But too much or at the wrong time and I'm in the corner crying,. Just ask JP. There may have been a time during my pregnancy that I cried like a little girl and didn't let him out of my sight because I read a description of a book about a guy who thinks zombies are real.
3) I'm scared I'm never going to amount to anything. I have so many dreams and so much I know I can do, but I'm terrified that either I won't have the money to do them (like going to school) or that my demons will keep fucking with me until I give up one way or another.
There you have it. Long time writing, but when I finally did, it was some good shit.
<3
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
20 randoms
HOPESandDREAMS: 30 Things: gave me this idea.
1. I used to ride horses at least once every week. I miss it a lot and am really sad I couldn't continue. My favorite was jumping.
2. I have developed an intense love for hokey movies. My favorite by far is Dead Alive, a Peter Jackson zombie movie that is said to be the bloodiest movie every (judging by the number of gallons of fake blood they used). Most recently we watched Hercules And The Moon Men.
3. I love Baby Einstein. My favorite is Baby Shakespeare. Especially when I'm not sober.
4. I was an alcoholic. For about a year. I once told JP that I drink to feel normal.
5. I rarely drink anymore. Getting drunk isn't as fun as it was, and the health risks aren't worth it.
6. I love hoodies. They're comforting to me and I wear them year round, sometimes even when it's hot out.
7. JP's nickname for me is Snowflake. He says it's because I'm unique. I think it's because the day he decided that was my nickname I was running around the TJ Maxx parking lot trying to catch one on my tongue.
8. I can say really, really dumb things. Like, "how many beers are in a six pack?" or, at night, "is it, like, dark outside?".
9. Bo Burnam is amazing. My favorite song of his is Catholic Rap. "Dear God, dear Lord, dear vague muscular man with a beard or a sword. Dear good all seeing being, my way or the highway yahweh, the blue balled anti-masturbator, the great all-loving faggot hater."
10. I read Cosmo every month even though I find it sexist.
11. JP and I want to start a business sometime in the next 10 years. We want to call it the Handy Hippie. We'd go around installing solar panels and windmills and generally greening up businesses and homes.
12. I thought becoming a mother would profoundly change my personality. It didn't. I wish it had. I figured I would be more assertive and strong, but I'm only that way when it comes to Willow, and sometimes not as much as I should be.
13. Joss Whedon is my hero. Buffy is my favorite TV show. Firefly is a close second. Dr. Horrible was the first time I realized I actually like musicals as long as they're not Rodgers and Hammerstein. The only thing he's done that I don't like is the Avengers (and the Buffy movie, but he wasn't really involved so I don't count that).
14. I was profoundly fucked up when I was younger. Yesterday I went through some of my old binders from freshman year of college and in almost every margin I'm putting myself down or drawing skeletal figures. Or razor blades. It's so sad.
15. When I was a kid and we were in the car, I would say bye to every object I saw. "Bye tree, bye car, bye people. . "
16. So many bad things have happened to me that when I think or talk about them sometimes I forget one or two. "Oh, yeah! I forgot that happened too."
17. The last few years are the first time I actually remember being happy. Especially since Willow was born.
18. I have read the Lord of the Rings series 9 times in one summer.
19. I love vacuuming when there's tiny pieces of crunchy stuff on the floor. Doesn't everyone? But I hate dealing with vacuum cords.
20. This Christmas, our tree topper was Bizarro with his flag upside down. . . Oh, god. I'm a nerdy hipster!
<3
1. I used to ride horses at least once every week. I miss it a lot and am really sad I couldn't continue. My favorite was jumping.
2. I have developed an intense love for hokey movies. My favorite by far is Dead Alive, a Peter Jackson zombie movie that is said to be the bloodiest movie every (judging by the number of gallons of fake blood they used). Most recently we watched Hercules And The Moon Men.
3. I love Baby Einstein. My favorite is Baby Shakespeare. Especially when I'm not sober.
4. I was an alcoholic. For about a year. I once told JP that I drink to feel normal.
5. I rarely drink anymore. Getting drunk isn't as fun as it was, and the health risks aren't worth it.
6. I love hoodies. They're comforting to me and I wear them year round, sometimes even when it's hot out.
7. JP's nickname for me is Snowflake. He says it's because I'm unique. I think it's because the day he decided that was my nickname I was running around the TJ Maxx parking lot trying to catch one on my tongue.
8. I can say really, really dumb things. Like, "how many beers are in a six pack?" or, at night, "is it, like, dark outside?".
9. Bo Burnam is amazing. My favorite song of his is Catholic Rap. "Dear God, dear Lord, dear vague muscular man with a beard or a sword. Dear good all seeing being, my way or the highway yahweh, the blue balled anti-masturbator, the great all-loving faggot hater."
10. I read Cosmo every month even though I find it sexist.
11. JP and I want to start a business sometime in the next 10 years. We want to call it the Handy Hippie. We'd go around installing solar panels and windmills and generally greening up businesses and homes.
12. I thought becoming a mother would profoundly change my personality. It didn't. I wish it had. I figured I would be more assertive and strong, but I'm only that way when it comes to Willow, and sometimes not as much as I should be.
13. Joss Whedon is my hero. Buffy is my favorite TV show. Firefly is a close second. Dr. Horrible was the first time I realized I actually like musicals as long as they're not Rodgers and Hammerstein. The only thing he's done that I don't like is the Avengers (and the Buffy movie, but he wasn't really involved so I don't count that).
14. I was profoundly fucked up when I was younger. Yesterday I went through some of my old binders from freshman year of college and in almost every margin I'm putting myself down or drawing skeletal figures. Or razor blades. It's so sad.
15. When I was a kid and we were in the car, I would say bye to every object I saw. "Bye tree, bye car, bye people. . "
16. So many bad things have happened to me that when I think or talk about them sometimes I forget one or two. "Oh, yeah! I forgot that happened too."
17. The last few years are the first time I actually remember being happy. Especially since Willow was born.
18. I have read the Lord of the Rings series 9 times in one summer.
19. I love vacuuming when there's tiny pieces of crunchy stuff on the floor. Doesn't everyone? But I hate dealing with vacuum cords.
20. This Christmas, our tree topper was Bizarro with his flag upside down. . . Oh, god. I'm a nerdy hipster!
<3
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
no posts?
I'm lame.
And there are only a few things that I don't feel comfortable sharing with you guys.
And those are the things that have been consuming most of my time lately. Those things, and work.
But-- here's an update!
Willow is 8 months old as of yesterday!!!! She's a happy but usually serious baby who's definitely a mama's girl. She waves, likes getting her armpits tickled, loves splashing in the tub, pulling hair (especially hers when she's sleepy), army crawling, playing with things that aren't made for babies, reading magazines, my mom, hairbrushes and not going to sleep. She still has no teeth, but is definitely interested in "human" food. Her mama is now "Maaaaaaaam!" and she has crazy separation anxiety. We're still nursing (go us!!) and she's starting to become very adamant about boobies when she's hungry.
I'm still working, and it's going well. I like getting away for a few days a week. It gives me something to do and something to talk about other than Willow and crazy hippie stuff.
That's about it.
Live long and prosper.
<3
And there are only a few things that I don't feel comfortable sharing with you guys.
And those are the things that have been consuming most of my time lately. Those things, and work.
But-- here's an update!
Willow is 8 months old as of yesterday!!!! She's a happy but usually serious baby who's definitely a mama's girl. She waves, likes getting her armpits tickled, loves splashing in the tub, pulling hair (especially hers when she's sleepy), army crawling, playing with things that aren't made for babies, reading magazines, my mom, hairbrushes and not going to sleep. She still has no teeth, but is definitely interested in "human" food. Her mama is now "Maaaaaaaam!" and she has crazy separation anxiety. We're still nursing (go us!!) and she's starting to become very adamant about boobies when she's hungry.
I'm still working, and it's going well. I like getting away for a few days a week. It gives me something to do and something to talk about other than Willow and crazy hippie stuff.
That's about it.
Live long and prosper.
<3
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
social anxiety
I hate people.
I hate the way they talk too much and too loudly.
I hate how they smell bad or good too strongly.
I hate how they do things that make me want to punch them, or cry, or call CPS or PETA or the cops.
I hate how nosey they are.
I hate their reactions to who I am.
Mostly, though I hate how I feel around them.
I have social anxiety. If it were up to me, I'd stay home. . All the time. I'd rather stay home than do pretty much anything. Dealing with people makes me sweat, disorients me and makes me generally stupid. I feel and sound like I have a mental disability. I worry about everything. How I look, how I walk, how my hair is, if I'll be able to get the carseat into the shopping cart without looking like an idiot, if I'll get the cart with the squeaky wheel, if I'll fuck up my change because I'm so flustered. . . You get the idea. This is constant.
When I'm planning on going somewhere, I have to think about all the alternatives. I have to be prepared. And it's exhausting. It's exhausting to think so much about something that seems so simple to everyone else.
Sometimes I'm fine. Those times, I have JP with me. He's my anchor. He doesn't care what anyone thinks about him or me, and I know he loves me even if I do mess my change up and stutter. He's good with people. He breaks awkward tension with jokes- and even delivers them well.
I don't really know how this all started. I've always been especially afraid of people. Maybe because I was the weird kid. My mom was Greek, my dad didn't let me go anywhere or do anything, I had no choice over what to wear till I was like 13. Maybe it started because I was ashamed.
Maybe I didn't get enough practice with other people. I didn't really have friends growing up. I remember two kids I saw occasionally that I played with. I mostly hung out with adults, or by myself. When I was with my parents (which I don't remember happening as often as most kids, since my Aunt Rita watched me while my parents worked, and by watched me, I mean I lived at her house most of the time) they'd go to prayer meetings. I'd color.
When we came to the states I stayed in my room and read. I won reading contests. I drew. That was my life. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere except church- and by church I meant the sermon part, and sometimes Sunday school. Sunday school and regular school were a case by case scenario, since my parents changed their minds about whether I should be allowed to go so often. I remember desperately wanting to belong. I remember sneaking out to go to youth group.
I think that's when my depression became the monster it was during my teen years as well. If I went to school during that time, I'd go in the mornings, my dad would be there, and come home and stay in my room. If I didn't go to school, I'd stay in my room and do homework, read, write angry poetry, and starting around year 11 or so, cut.
So, I suppose that would be as good a place as any for my social anxiety to start. My parents loosened up, eventually, but years of self-injury, eating disorders, multiple suicide attempts, two psychiatric stays and a desperate need to belong later, things still aren't right.
I still feel like I don't belong. I still don't have friends. And though I'm much more comfortable with myself, and have for the most part conquered my crazy demons, I still feel like that 13 year old girl who has no clue what other human beings are like.
Will I ever get over this? I have no clue. I fucking hope so, though. It would be nice to think about going to the store without feeling sick to my stomach. It would be nice not to worry about if Willow is going enough new places without feeling like I can't take her there. I want to show my baby the world, and I will, whether it hurts me or not. . . But hopefully, I can get to a place in my head where I will enjoy not only her enjoying the world, but the world itself.
I hate the way they talk too much and too loudly.
I hate how they smell bad or good too strongly.
I hate how they do things that make me want to punch them, or cry, or call CPS or PETA or the cops.
I hate how nosey they are.
I hate their reactions to who I am.
Mostly, though I hate how I feel around them.
I have social anxiety. If it were up to me, I'd stay home. . All the time. I'd rather stay home than do pretty much anything. Dealing with people makes me sweat, disorients me and makes me generally stupid. I feel and sound like I have a mental disability. I worry about everything. How I look, how I walk, how my hair is, if I'll be able to get the carseat into the shopping cart without looking like an idiot, if I'll get the cart with the squeaky wheel, if I'll fuck up my change because I'm so flustered. . . You get the idea. This is constant.
When I'm planning on going somewhere, I have to think about all the alternatives. I have to be prepared. And it's exhausting. It's exhausting to think so much about something that seems so simple to everyone else.
Sometimes I'm fine. Those times, I have JP with me. He's my anchor. He doesn't care what anyone thinks about him or me, and I know he loves me even if I do mess my change up and stutter. He's good with people. He breaks awkward tension with jokes- and even delivers them well.
I don't really know how this all started. I've always been especially afraid of people. Maybe because I was the weird kid. My mom was Greek, my dad didn't let me go anywhere or do anything, I had no choice over what to wear till I was like 13. Maybe it started because I was ashamed.
Maybe I didn't get enough practice with other people. I didn't really have friends growing up. I remember two kids I saw occasionally that I played with. I mostly hung out with adults, or by myself. When I was with my parents (which I don't remember happening as often as most kids, since my Aunt Rita watched me while my parents worked, and by watched me, I mean I lived at her house most of the time) they'd go to prayer meetings. I'd color.
When we came to the states I stayed in my room and read. I won reading contests. I drew. That was my life. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere except church- and by church I meant the sermon part, and sometimes Sunday school. Sunday school and regular school were a case by case scenario, since my parents changed their minds about whether I should be allowed to go so often. I remember desperately wanting to belong. I remember sneaking out to go to youth group.
I think that's when my depression became the monster it was during my teen years as well. If I went to school during that time, I'd go in the mornings, my dad would be there, and come home and stay in my room. If I didn't go to school, I'd stay in my room and do homework, read, write angry poetry, and starting around year 11 or so, cut.
So, I suppose that would be as good a place as any for my social anxiety to start. My parents loosened up, eventually, but years of self-injury, eating disorders, multiple suicide attempts, two psychiatric stays and a desperate need to belong later, things still aren't right.
I still feel like I don't belong. I still don't have friends. And though I'm much more comfortable with myself, and have for the most part conquered my crazy demons, I still feel like that 13 year old girl who has no clue what other human beings are like.
Will I ever get over this? I have no clue. I fucking hope so, though. It would be nice to think about going to the store without feeling sick to my stomach. It would be nice not to worry about if Willow is going enough new places without feeling like I can't take her there. I want to show my baby the world, and I will, whether it hurts me or not. . . But hopefully, I can get to a place in my head where I will enjoy not only her enjoying the world, but the world itself.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
the artist's way
Today I'm starting a series of blogs about my experiences going through the book The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. I'll be doing this in conjunction with my friend Karen's blog, so check her's out as well because we're doing it as a team.
The Artist's Way uses two basic tools, the morning pages and the artist's date. Morning pages are three pages of stream of consciousness writing every morning to sort of get the worries out of the way and clear the my head. I'm not supposed to read them again right away, but wait for a while and then read them, I guess for some insight into how my brain works. The artist's date is a weekly chunk of time (2 hours is what she said) where I go (or stay, I suppose, but that would be hard to do with le bebe) and do stuff. Anything, I guess. Walking, concerts, museum, bowling, movie, whatever. That's going to be hard for me. I always go out either with JP or Willow because my social anxiety goes crazy in the real world. If I do go out alone, I run in and out of the grocery store. . . And even then I hate it. Maybe these dates will help with that as well.
So, Karen and I will be chronicling our journey through this book. . I'm not sure what exactly it entails. I started flipping through it and got a little freaked out, which is probably a good thing, so I'll be taking this one chapter at a time. Karen has done this before, so if you follow her journey you'll be getting not only a whole different perspective, but someone who's a great writer and a pro at this whole finding your creativity thing!
I hope to get two things out of this exercise. Mainly, I hope to learn how to write even when I'm happy and everything's going well. I've never been good at writing happy poems. My writing started as a coping mechanism, and every time I tried writing not-sad poems they ended up sappy or stupid. Secondly, I'd like to shake the writer's block that plagues me every few months. Sometimes, I can write for months and months but then I stop. For like a year. Usually, it's when I'm depressed, and not being able to write makes it worse. . . So, Julia Cameron, I challenge you to fix my creative.
In the book she asks us to sign a contract, so I will put it on here so I can be responsible not only to myself and Karen but to you all,
The Artist's Way uses two basic tools, the morning pages and the artist's date. Morning pages are three pages of stream of consciousness writing every morning to sort of get the worries out of the way and clear the my head. I'm not supposed to read them again right away, but wait for a while and then read them, I guess for some insight into how my brain works. The artist's date is a weekly chunk of time (2 hours is what she said) where I go (or stay, I suppose, but that would be hard to do with le bebe) and do stuff. Anything, I guess. Walking, concerts, museum, bowling, movie, whatever. That's going to be hard for me. I always go out either with JP or Willow because my social anxiety goes crazy in the real world. If I do go out alone, I run in and out of the grocery store. . . And even then I hate it. Maybe these dates will help with that as well.
So, Karen and I will be chronicling our journey through this book. . I'm not sure what exactly it entails. I started flipping through it and got a little freaked out, which is probably a good thing, so I'll be taking this one chapter at a time. Karen has done this before, so if you follow her journey you'll be getting not only a whole different perspective, but someone who's a great writer and a pro at this whole finding your creativity thing!
I hope to get two things out of this exercise. Mainly, I hope to learn how to write even when I'm happy and everything's going well. I've never been good at writing happy poems. My writing started as a coping mechanism, and every time I tried writing not-sad poems they ended up sappy or stupid. Secondly, I'd like to shake the writer's block that plagues me every few months. Sometimes, I can write for months and months but then I stop. For like a year. Usually, it's when I'm depressed, and not being able to write makes it worse. . . So, Julia Cameron, I challenge you to fix my creative.
In the book she asks us to sign a contract, so I will put it on here so I can be responsible not only to myself and Karen but to you all,
I, Annie, understand that I am undertaking an intensive, guided encounter with my own creativity. I commit myself to the twelve-week duration of the course. I, Annie, commit to a weekly reading, daily morning pages, a weekly artist date, and the fulfillment of each week's tasks.
I, Annie, further understand that this course will raise issues and emotions for me to deal with. I, Annie, commit myself to excellent self care-- adequate sleep, diet, exercise, and pampering-- for the duration of the course.
So, there it is. I'm not sure if I'll be posting updates or other stuff along with the weekly artist's way blogs, but I guess we'll see.
I, Annie, am signing off.
<3
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
two years self-injury free!!!
The title says it all! It's been two years, which is crazy for something that used to be almost hourly for me! Go me!
I'm really proud of myself for the progress I've made and for how little I think of self-injury as an alternative to dealing with my emotions nowadays.
There has been a lot that helped with my recovery process, but JP has definitely been the biggest motivator for me. When I met him, I was just starting to get back into it, after a deep depression during my freshman year of college and miscarrying Chatham, but even after all that, it didn't escalate to anywhere near the level it had been at in previous years.
Poetry has also helped. I've written for years, but getting a little better at it (god, let's admit it, those first ones sucked really, really bad!) and even competing in a slam or going to poetry readings and getting more involved in the spoken word community, though not as much as I'd like to, has really helped. It gives me something to look forward to. This all started my freshman year when I heard Bluz on Indiefeed and then he visited IC and gave me his CD's (he's a great guy!) and then continued with Sierra DeMulder, who I was also introduced to by Indiefeed and is an amazing artist and person. JP and I went to one of her poetry classes last winter, before I found out I was pregnant, and we hoped to go back for the whole semester, but it's in St. Paul and I got pregnant and crabby.
Bluz:
Sierra:
The main reason I wouldn't go back to the awful that was my life is Willow. I want a better life for my little girl. She's my everything.
Happy Beltane. I'm going to go light some candles. Blessed be.
<3
I'm really proud of myself for the progress I've made and for how little I think of self-injury as an alternative to dealing with my emotions nowadays.
There has been a lot that helped with my recovery process, but JP has definitely been the biggest motivator for me. When I met him, I was just starting to get back into it, after a deep depression during my freshman year of college and miscarrying Chatham, but even after all that, it didn't escalate to anywhere near the level it had been at in previous years.
Poetry has also helped. I've written for years, but getting a little better at it (god, let's admit it, those first ones sucked really, really bad!) and even competing in a slam or going to poetry readings and getting more involved in the spoken word community, though not as much as I'd like to, has really helped. It gives me something to look forward to. This all started my freshman year when I heard Bluz on Indiefeed and then he visited IC and gave me his CD's (he's a great guy!) and then continued with Sierra DeMulder, who I was also introduced to by Indiefeed and is an amazing artist and person. JP and I went to one of her poetry classes last winter, before I found out I was pregnant, and we hoped to go back for the whole semester, but it's in St. Paul and I got pregnant and crabby.
Bluz:
Sierra:
The main reason I wouldn't go back to the awful that was my life is Willow. I want a better life for my little girl. She's my everything.
Happy Beltane. I'm going to go light some candles. Blessed be.
<3
Monday, April 30, 2012
job!
I'm a working girl.
I got a part-time, mostly weekends job at Casey's running the register. It isn't glamorous, and most days I come home exhausted with garbage "juice" all over me, but it's helping us make it to our goals, and for the first time in a long time I feel like I'm contributing and that we're on our way to where we want to be.
In other news, JP has an interview tomorrow for another security job, but here in town, which, even though it's less per hour, would save us $40 a week on gas, plus he'd get an extra 2 hours that he's not driving to spend with us! Hopefully he gets it.
Willow's freaking adorable. Every day I love this little girl more and more. She's the cutest, funniest, smartest little girl. She's the best thing I ever did.
In other happy, funtime news, I'm seriously looking into becoming a doula. I've actually had becoming a doula and a lactation consultant on my bucket list for a while and it just hit me about a week ago that I can actually do those! So, I'm going to be looking into training for those so that I can talk about lactivist/intactivist stuff with someone other than JP (who's heard it way too many times to care anymore!).
That's about it. This tired girl should go to bed.
<3
I got a part-time, mostly weekends job at Casey's running the register. It isn't glamorous, and most days I come home exhausted with garbage "juice" all over me, but it's helping us make it to our goals, and for the first time in a long time I feel like I'm contributing and that we're on our way to where we want to be.
In other news, JP has an interview tomorrow for another security job, but here in town, which, even though it's less per hour, would save us $40 a week on gas, plus he'd get an extra 2 hours that he's not driving to spend with us! Hopefully he gets it.
Willow's freaking adorable. Every day I love this little girl more and more. She's the cutest, funniest, smartest little girl. She's the best thing I ever did.
In other happy, funtime news, I'm seriously looking into becoming a doula. I've actually had becoming a doula and a lactation consultant on my bucket list for a while and it just hit me about a week ago that I can actually do those! So, I'm going to be looking into training for those so that I can talk about lactivist/intactivist stuff with someone other than JP (who's heard it way too many times to care anymore!).
That's about it. This tired girl should go to bed.
<3
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