Woulda Coulda Shoulda

So, uh, this week has kind of sucked. [Sidebar: Thank you for the kind words and thoughts and emails after that last post. I consider myself very lucky to have so many kind folks out there in the Intertubes giving a damn about us, and on low days like that one, it helps more than you know.] When things sucks, I like to go full hermit. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to do anything but curl up and maybe talk to Otto a little bit and hug my kids. That’s just how I am.

Lucky for me, my dance card usually isn’t full, so if I hit a time like this when I want to hide, it’s not hard to do. (Hooray for maladaptive coping!) But this week as things started crashing down around me, I looked at my calendar and realized that one of my oldest friends was coming to town. And my first inclination, quite honestly, was to call her up and cancel. Because STUFF, man, and THINGS and HARD and WAHWAH and I am an iiiiiiiiiislaaaaaaand!

Last year, I probably would’ve canceled. I would’ve apologized, profusely, and I would’ve felt like a shitty friend, and I would’ve gone back to hiding (now with extra self-flagellation) and that would’ve been it. But I have GROWN AS A PERSON (haaaaaa) and so I didn’t cancel. (more…)

When you don’t know what to say, it’s always good to have friends more articulate than you are.

My friend Kathryn is smart and articulate and beautiful and committed to being part of the light in the world. I’m going to try to follow her example. Thanks, Kathryn.

I’m feeling all vulnerable and naked and stuff, and even though you were super nice about it (you’re my favorite, have I mentioned?), I feel the need to change the subject.

Unfortunately, I’m not all that smart, so I’m going to change the subject from “ZOMG THIS SUCKS AND WE ARE ALL SAD” to “HEY GIRLS SOMETIMES HURT MY FEELINGS.” This is… only a slight improvement. And the funny part is that it grew out of a conversation had while camping, when I was feeling perfectly relaxed and calm and happy and not like the world’s worst mother OR like all women are bitches. Huh.

Anyway, if you could also use the distraction, my thoughts are over at Off Our Chests. My delicate flower, easily wounded thoughts. I’m off to procure a fainting couch.

So I forgot to put that on the list of things I know about girlfriends, but it’s true. I have an old friend from my former, northern life here visiting ever-so-briefly, and she brought her son (who falls between Chickadee and Monkey, age-wise), and last night he suffered from either a pernicious migraine or some food poisoning (the jury is still out) and ended up having a very long evening indeed. Y’all know I simply do not deal well with vomit, but because they are my friends and I love them I tried REALLY HARD not to dry heave while handing over the bucket the cleaning wipes and such.

I’m a giver.

The good news is that he’s feeling much better this morning; the bad news is that it’s time for them to leave (boo). In light of their visit, however—and that realization I have whenever I get the all-too-rare chance to spend some quality time with a wonderful girlfriend—I’m over at Off Our Chests today, musing on the power of awesome gal pals. Come on over and tell me what would make your list of must-have qualities.

Otto and I packed up from camping, came home, removed everything from the camper and shoved it into the washing machine, and then he promptly left me to go race cars… somewhere. Up north. I forget where. I wasn’t really paying attention, on account of I took this opportunity when 1) my kids are gone and 2) Otto is off to play cars to 3) demand that my bestie come spend the weekend with me.

We are positively INEBRIATED with the sheer joy of having no one to answer to and no real plans (other than some fancy dinner plans Otto made for us for tomorrow night because he is awesome), and so far have managed to throw the ball for the dog a few times, talk each others’ ears off, and shop for nutritious dinner food like a hunk of brie and crackers. We have also spent some quality time combing through the Netflix available streaming movies to make sure tonight we have something truly terrible to watch while we flick popcorn at the dog.

[I know that now that I'm all grown up I'm not supposed to get all giddy over what is essentially the 40-year-old version of a slumber party, but screw that. Moms need play dates, too, man.]