Third Times a Charm

11 March 2006

I've decided that I want a blog to tell my own story, instead of everyone else's. So here's my third try. You can find my first blog, about my son's health problems, at Interesting if a) you know me, 2) you knew me, c) you're a parent or wishing to be one and 4) you want to know about Pierre Robin Sequence or genetic disorders in general. (Yeah, I really miss Mad About You)

I'd tell you where the second is, but then I'd have to publicly mortify myself.

So this is going to be my share my life, opinions, pet peeves and advice blog. Lookin' forward to it.

I'll start with the perfectly horrendous article in today's Spec. I never read the Spec, because, I don't want to spend the money on getting a paper delivered and have you seen what a nine month old does to that much blackened paper? Eeeesh.
But I sent James back to the variety store (after he'd already been over for milk and I forgot to ask him to pick it up-he's really thee most accommodating husband) for a paper, because I want to move, and I want to move fast so I'm watching the open houses, since we're in Hamilton every Sunday anyway.

I'm perfectly aware that I live in a little mother-of-three-toddlers world, made worse by the fact that I cut cable off a few years ago when we were living on a shoestring. (I think we're up to a construction boot string now). I don't hear about a lot of things going on, except that I do catch some headlines when I get on my computer because MSN is my homepage. My mother knows that she has to call me when, let's say, planes start crashing into tall buildings, because I'll be pretty much clueless. It's so bad that a number of months ago, I went to Hamilton for something and couldn't for the life of me figure out why there was even less parking than there usually is. I circled the downtown 4 or 5 times before giving up and going home. I find out later that...the Queen was visiting. No idea...nothing in my noggin. (They really should have used that line in the movie and not just the preview--love it)

So I was a little sheepish to discover that this shudderingly terrible thing had taken place not very far from me and I had no idea. I can't even write the words completely't...doit.

Here, just go read.

If you don't have the time or interest, few key words: drunk girl, 8 guys, rape, mother upstairs.

I've always had a problem with the buddy parent. But it's one thing for little ol' me on my little ol' blog to say so, I think we'd all agree that to have a judge call you on the rug for it is downright shameful. My word, woman, what were you thinking?

It's become an epidemic though. Just watch a few Supernanny reruns (which I don't, but my mom tells me about them) and you see that people are scared to be parents. Scared to have their kids dislike them for a brief moment in time while they're being punished for something. It's a yuck feeling, yeah, but it won't destroy their love--trust me on this. I've seen the foster kids who still wanted to go back to parents who had abused them. Unbelievable.

So, I should really get some work done. Deadline in two weeks less a day. Huge deadline. Tell ya about it later.

Pray for my SIL, would you? She went home for her grandpa's funeral and last night another close family member, there for the funeral, died of a heartattack. Brutal.