All About Me...And Then Some (More About Me)

Sometimes, while I'm waiting for ass-puncher carpet installers to show up, I like to play a little game. It's called, "What the Hell Was I Doing a Year Ago Today." So, I clicked on my April 2006 archives and scrolled down to April 11, and what I saw there made me feel like a ginormous ass. See, I had a Superhero Contest, which was awesome fun. And there was a winner. Namely, Phil. And being a winner meant that Phil deserved a prize. And did I ever fucking send one? No.

That's got me thinking about a lot of stuff. Which is good because I have plenty of time because these fucking carpet installers are now two hours late and according to the idiot woman in the office, they're finishing up another job and then they'll be here if they have time, so I've got a whole fucking vacation day to waste waiting for them and thinking about what a self-absorbed brat I've become.

And I'm sorry for it. The self-absorbed brat part. I'm sorry about the carpet asses, too, but they'll be more sorry once I tell everyone and their goddamned brother how much they suck and not to use their useless fucking company EVER. Ahem. But, with regard to the self-absorbed brat situation, I'm simply at a loss as to what to do about it. See, I've been through so much in the past year and a half. Not that I'm telling you all anything you don't already know. Most of you who are still hanging in there with me have been there through it. First miscarriage in September 05. Second in October 05. Third in March 06. And now the Turtle. And all the drama that that has entailed.

There's something I'm trying to say. Something that's itching to get out. And it might take a while to get there because I'm not so sure what it is. So bear with me.

I feel like I've been holding my breath since September 11th, when I got my positive pregnancy test. In hindsight, it was kind of a life affirming thing to happen on such a sad day, but at the time I really had no idea that this pregnancy would turn out any differently from the others. So that life affiirmation was lost on me. Carrying on...Subconsciously I credit my sheer willpower for the success of this pregnancy. Kind of like every time I fly I'm convinced we didn't crash because I willed it not to happen the whole time in air. And both scenarios are stupid and totally false. I know this. But I can't seem to stop my mind from being consumed.

And the end to that means is neglect of, mostly, people in my life. And my work has suffered to. But that'll recover. It's the people I worry about. Friendships I haven't been so good at maintaining because I can't seem to get my head out of my ass. Or my uterus. More likely my uterus. And that worries me. I just hope the people in my life will be around when this kid gets born and I find myself craving meaningul, adult interaction.

I've also neglected my writing. And that sucks. Writing has always been this great escape for me. And I felt that, after blogging quite consistently for over a year, I was really starting to understand the art of using the word fuck. Among others.

I'm a little scared. I'm scared that when I have this kid, that absorption won't stop. The obsessiveness. And it MUST. I am a firm believer in Mom's having lives of their own, ya know? I don't think kids learn squat about what it's like to be a grown-up, in particular, a grown-up woman, when Mom's sole purpose in life is her children. I think that kind of maternal smothering actually says the opposite of what I want my child, boy or girl, to think about women.

So, where do I go from here? I seroiusly don't know. I'm allowing myself six more weeks (or hopefully at least 3) to let this whole pregnancy thing rule my life. And then? And then there'll be a kid, hopefully, who eats and poops and cries. And it'll be completely independent of my body, so I won't have to worry about the chance of me fucking it up. Physically anyway. Heh. I have no doubts that my kid'll be at least a touch fucked up as a direct result of me. I mean, everyone's screwed up a little because of their parents, aren't they? I just hope I can be honest about my shortcomings.

I guess what I'm saying, and taking fucking forever to do so, is that if you'll hang in there just a little longer while I keep sucking, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Now, if you were a male on the receiving end of a blow job, I'm sure you wouldn't mind one bit. But given that that's not the situation, your mileage may vary.

I'm hoping that someday soon I'll remove my pregnancy blinders and be able to take note of the other Super Heroes in my life. Because life outside my box, erm, eh, heh, I mean, the box, is lovely and insane. And I'd miss me if I stayed away much longer.

Now, if that made a bit of sense to any of you, I'd offer up a prize for your super hero understanding skillz. But, just ask Phil, I suck at giving prizes. So I'll just say, damn. You're good. And even if you didn't get it? Damn. You're still good. 'Cause neither did I. And damn, I'm good!