Wrap your head with this material...

When I was a kid, my parents had this policy that you could ask anything and get an honest answer. It went hand in hand with another policy of theirs, which was you could use any word as long as you knew what it meant. They'd quiz you occasionally too, just to make sure you were paying attention. "What's 'pissed off' mean, Karin?" "It means perturbed." I was a bit precocious. My parents rarely used the parental copout/freakout/I-don't-want-to-talk-about-this card of "I'll tell you when you're older." So I probably would have learned about sex pretty early no matter what. But as it turned out, I learned about sex from the movie Porky's. I was 4 or 5. In 1984, movies were a big treat. You couldn't just watch pop one in the DVD player at any time. You had to see it at the theater, or you had to wait for it to come out on network television. Most mommies reading this were probably born after 1984 so I'm giving a r...

I couldn't come out for National Coming Out Day. You know, because I'm not gay. I like ladies. Just not their lady parts. Well, boobs are nice. Everyone likes boobs. Anyway, I did get a pink triangle rattle, which we've dubbed the gay pride toy for Magnus. Oh and name him after his gay grandad. So I guess that was good. Anyone notice that National Coming Out Day was the same day as Columbus Day. That makes me happy. Because I think it would make him turn over in his angry whiteman grave to know that homosexuality is accepted and welcomed on his day. Because Columbus was a douche. Which reminds me of that time in Chile when my homework was about Christopher Columbus but I didn't know his name was Colon in Spanish so I wrote a sentence about the colon. Ha ha, what a douche. When you're on maternity leave, is it like vacation where if you want a beer at an odd time of day, say like 2 pm, you just have it? How about just because its Tuesday? I didn't ...

Today ChompSki, our boxer dog, was especially annoying. He just kept wanting to go outside. Our yard's not fenced. But ChompSki usually sticks close by. He stays to the back yard, does his business maybe visits the creek behind our house for some mountain spring water, then heads back to the sliding glass door. Today though, he kept going in front. He's not allowed to do that. He knows he's not allowed to do that. He normally behaves pretty well. Not today. So when I got the baby all packed up to go to a lunch date, I notice a skeleton on the driveway. I should mention that I've been watching way too much Bones. What? Its what I've been doing while breast feeding. You can't read while breast feeding. So when I see the carcass in the driveway, I think its a body. And then I realize what a spaz I am. And what a gross dog I have. No kisses for ChompSki today.

I still can't decide if I should write about this, what I should write about this, how I feel about this, how I should feel about this. But here it is. Magnus was a twin. Was. big WAS. Not for long. Maybe 5weeks. But still. Because I'd had the miscarriage, I called and made an appointment right away when I found out I was pregnant. They saw me at 5 weeks. Did and ultrasound and saw two little blobbies. I asked if it could be twins and they said yes. Could be. But not necessarily. So I came back at 7 weeks. Because they were hoping to see a heartbeat then. They did. It was Magnus's. By then there were dark spots on my ultrasound too though. They didn't like that. Doctors weren't sure what it meant. Could be another miscarriage in waiting. Could've been lots of things. So I waited another 2 weeks to go in for another ultrasound. At 9 weeks they were hoping they'd be able to tell but said it was possible they wouldn't. I counted daysho...

Destructive thoughts. Everyone has them. Or, at least, I choose to believe everyone has them. Who hasn't thought about driving their car into the concrete wall? Its not suicidal either. Its instinctual and destructive. Thinking about smashing computers into tiny bits. Or whatever your pleasure. Or anger. Or whatever. For me its not even an emotional thing. It seems to just exist. Like, mentally, I'm running through the grocery list, the to-do list, processing my day at work, and oh by the way I'm thinking of driving over the dam and what noise my car would make as it splashed into the lake. Now I've added horrible thoughts of things happening to my child to that same destructive list. As in, I no longer think of driving into or over things, but what would happen if we took Magnus on a boat and he somehow fell overboard. Like, if picturing myself diving into the cold water and how fast I could swim to catch him would protect him in some way, I would be prepar...