Cyclical Thinking

Last night I had a glass of wine with my wonderful sister. She is currently the only member of this blog, however I am going to assume that millions of other people are reading this because my amazing writing shines through the endless sea of others out there in the blogospere. Even if she is the only one in the world that reads this, that is good enough. I am her biggest fan. I want to be more like her. If I can accomplish being someone she and my child both admire then I have lived my dream. Sometimes it is so hard not to get stuck in the never ending wheel of cyclical thinking. I get in these ruts where everything in the world just seems like the leftovers in the fridge that just might make you cry if you actually have to eat them for one more day. Like the turkey that is still there three days after Thanksgiving. Sometimes I just look at my life and want to kick and scream, I want a Fucking CHEESEBURGER, get this GD turkey the hell out of my face! It really isn't the turkey that I don't want. It is the cheeseburger that I do want, I actually love turkey. My point is that I can take a step back and see that the turkey is actually really great, and that it is up to me to keep my life exciting. I think the key to that is to stop the cycle. The cycle becomes like the hum of tires on the road, it's mesmerizing, it lulls me into a state of expectation and ingratitude. When I stop and notice the smell of winter creeping into the fall, and the small seedlings bursting through the ground in the colored pots in my window, my eyes are open. I see the things that make today different from yesterday. These things are not insignificant. They are the cheeseburger. I just have to look from them. I am reading a book that focuses on gratitude. I am trying to do better. I just want the people I love to know I am grateful for every moment in this life I get to spend with them. I am grateful for you Ash. <3

Blog Virgin

Hello cyber world. I am a blog virgin. Well, that isn't exactly true. I had a blog when I was pregnant but I didn't really use it and I only posted pictures so I feel like that doesn't really count. Kinda like your high school boyfriend where you fooled around but didn't "go all the way." So here I am embarking on my first blogging adventure(where I intend to go all the way) I hope that people enjoy my rantings and ramblings. I have lots of things going on in this pretty little head of mine (that sits upon a mismatched overly squishy body, but the head is good) so my goal is to clear some room and hopefully make some people smile along the way. Let me know what you think.

I posted a picture of my perfect son today. He was with his Aunt Ashley, she was severely allergic to children before he came along. He seems to be fairly hypoallergenic, unless he poops, but the rest of them still cause her to have fits. He just turned one this week. I don't know how that happened so fast, but I am pretty sure that God plans it that way so that you don't have time to kill yourself or your child. So here is my story of becoming a mom. My husband, Russ, and I had just started to entertain the idea of maybe, someday, possibly trying to have a baby. We had been married 5 years and were admittedly self centered and not willing to cater our lives to anyone else. Then WAMMO! Pregnant. I sent my husband a text message with a picture of two positive pregnancy tests from work. He asked who's they were, (the tests, not the zygote) I responded YOURS! So nine miserable months later out came this perfect little miracle. I am not one of those moms that just gushes non stop over their child. Don't get me wrong I love to gush about my amazingly smart, beautiful, talented boy. However, I also love to bitch about how tired of poop, and primary colored plastic I am. If I step on one more toy car I will probably shove it into my husbands bad ear. Not because it is his fault, just because he is the one that usually takes the brunt of my hysterical melt downs, and manages to do so with a smile and tell me how cute I am. Then he brings my pills and coffee and we move on. So here we are one year, several toy car meltdowns, and four days later, one happy mess!