A very indignant Logan marches into the office.
Logan: Joseph blessyou’d all over me!
Me: What?
Logan: JOSEPH BLESSYOU’D ALL OVER ME!
Me: You mean he sneezed on you?
Logan: That’s what I said!
Poe: It happens.
Reason for the Quiet
I know I’ve been quiet. Very very quiet.
Why?
I’ve been thinking. Debating. Arguing. Arguing with God. More debating. More thinking.
It’s no secret that I want to come home, that I think my calling is in the home, and that I’ve really had a hard time not being able to fulfill what I think I should be doing.
Today? I quit my job. Actually, I put in notice – my last day will be late November. My hopes are that we’ll be able to train someone to replace me in that time (the wheels of HR move very slowly.)
I’m exhilarated and terrified and my head is pounding and I’m nervous, scared, anxious, what if… what if… what if… but know… The deep down know… that I’m doing what’s right for me and my family. I’ve told my boss. HR has been contacted.
I will be doing freelance projects and stuff. From home (HA!), which will hopefully gear up in earnest in January.
Wow.
But the reason for the quiet was the internal debate and questioning. I had to go inward for a bit to determine what I needed to do, what God wanted me to do, and what my family needed for me to do, and how to then make that all work together both mentally and financially.
The most immediate benefit though? Spending more than an hour a day with my children.
All is Right with the World
My husband is home. He spent this weekend on open ocean deep sea fishing with some friends at work and their family. The quid pro quo of BlogHer. We each got a trip – we don’t travel, funds low and the like, and we both really needed the treats.
He just got home, this morning, unexpectedly, as the waters were too choppy to stay out. Suddenly, the axis shifted, and all was right in my world again.
We’re always together other than work. He truly is my best friend, and we’re both a bit antisocial and homebodies.
But this weekend, I had to do the “man” stuff. I had to take out the trash (his job.) Fine, I handled that. But he’s also the bug man. I had to clear ant manifestations in 4 rooms. I swear we were under attack, I think they’re looking for water. And then a gnarly looking spider that tried to get Joseph while he was peeing. Chunky, black, with a yellow stripe down it’s back. And I played WoW, without him next to me. All done like I knew what I was doing. But then I realized – all done minus joy. Minus my best friend.
My best friend’s home now, and I feel normal again.
Broken
I was catching up on my feeds, and came upon an entry by Dooce. In it, she introduces a news story about a feral child. A feral child due to neglect… awful, awful, basic neglect. 7 years old and couldn’t speak. Roach bites. Only could suck a bottle. Diapers, just stacked around. Mattress on the floor. Covered in insects, mites, lice, and the like.
I read the whole article: The Girl in the Window. Then I saw the videos/pictures/interviews.
It has effected me. Deeply. I hurt for this little girl so very much. I had to go to the restroom at work because I was crying. A child not knowing that a hug is comfort? A 7 year old, without a medical issue (other than neglect) who sucks from a bottle and doesn’t know how to chew food? One who doesn’t cry or flinch in pain for IV’s?
How much pain has this child had?
There’s nothing I can do. The child has adoptive parents now who are doing everything possible for her. But I hurt. So, I had to write about it.
By the way, the mother criminal gave up her parental rights as a plea to avoid the 20 year sentence. And she thinks she’s been wronged.
I know that I complain that I’m a bad mother. And yes – I definitely get lazy about certain things. I look at stories such as this, and think, thank God my bar is set so high.
I realize that the situation is done. I realize there’s nothing I can do. I know all that can be done IS being done. But I can’t help, as a mother, to picture my own child in that situation. And that’s when I cried.
PMS?
First off, thank you so much for your – er – nippular recommendations… Much appreciated, and I’m going to try some of the bras mentioned. No bandaids though – sensitive skin and I react to adhesive.
There’s a joke in there somewhere.
On to another topic altogether. I have PMS. This is no surprise to anyone that knows me. However, I’m finding that over time (years, really) it’s getting really bad. Now I have the standard crazy behavior, and it’s to the point where I have to make sure I’m not making Life Choices during that time, ’cause it really could just be the hormones. But I’m also finding there to be a lot of anxiety during that point in time as well. Morbid thoughts – plannings of funerals – etc. Not like suicidal or homicidal, more like, what if? What would I do if? It usually only happens in the quiet. I’m only in the quiet in my car to and from work, and then in bed going to sleep, so that’s when the thoughts occur.
Like I said, it only happens during PMS time. What is this? I’m assuming just a strong PMS? And is there any way to “fix” it without hormones of any kind? I cannot take the pill, or the ring, or anything like that, because the side effect is migraines. What do I do?
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