Skip to main content
I was going to quit blogging but I suck at quitting stuff. I decided to quit, thinking I'd make some decisions about my professional life or possibly put some energy toward attempting to get paid for writing, but I didn't do either of those things. Also, I missed blogging. So hopefully someone will still read this because otherwise I'm just talking to myself in written form. Which is not all that far from crazy. So, you ready for a ramblingly, random post of shit-I-haven't-spouted-since-I-haven't-blogged-in-weeks?

Good. Here we go.

At a training recently, the girl sitting next to me also had a 7 month old. What're the odds? Anyway, at one point she said, "Can I ask you something personal?" I held my breath preparing for a very personal question.
"Are you nursing?"
Really? That's personal? Since when? Last I checked I'm the girl you tell that you keep a dildo in your glovebox and like to be called "bitch" during sex. I'm the girl you ask about whether since you can get milk out of your breasts, you can also put milk into them. I'm the girl who's likely to tell you I just put my underwear on inside out this morning and by the way my name is Karin. And yeah, I'm nursing.

My head it has four corners
four corners has my head
and if it didn't have four corners
it wouldn't be my head!
This is what I've been singing to Magnus lately. Because I'm an asshole like that. Oh and because his head has 4 corners. I kiss them all the time. I'm a mom like that. How many cornbread muffins do you think I can eat? Sadly, I think the answer will be 4. Because I have 4 cornbread muffins. And I love them.
my mouth it has four muffins
four muffins has my mouth
and if it didn't have four muffins
it wouldn't be my mouth!

4 cornbread muffins is nothing compared to the number of brownies I can eat. I bet I could eat a whole pan if I was really trying. My boss makes these awesome brownies and I end up eating them all day in embarassing numbers. I'm not sure if its more embarassing that I eat so many or that I've done it so much that it doesn't give me a stomach ache like it would a normal person.

Magnus spends a lot of time on his belly lately. He also makes some awesome noises like that rasberry noise, constantly. While thrashing around on the floor. Sometimes he sees you and stops, mouth open and just stares at you for a second. Then he puts his mouth right into the carpet. I have NOT called him a carpet muncher when he does this. Not even once. See what a good mom I am?

I've been thinking about stuff lately. I don't mean ideas or theories, I mean belongings/things/STUFF. I hate how it piles up and you just accumulate more and more of it. I hate how I have the amount of stuff that fits in the space I have. You know how good it feels to have an empty closet? Fuck you if you do because you're better at not accumulating and shoving stuff into closets then. I hate how it weighs me down and makes it hard to move around.

It feels so good to purge all that stuff. Whenever I leave an adult protection referral where the person is a hoarder, it makes me want to grab a back pack, burn my house down and get on a plane. I think of the times when I've lived in other countries and just had a couple of suitcases and how happy and simplified my life has been. Wake, shower, dress, study, wander, exercise, nap, run, eat, rinse, repeat. Someday I think I'll retire and get rid of everything and just wander the world. You think?

Comments

  1. I like you more and more each day. Especially if your kid munches carpet.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Home birth- The real fuckin deal

So the end of pregnancy is for the fuckin birds. I'm sure plenty of you out there know this. There's nothing to say but that you're sick of being pregnant. You're a little sick of the sweet smiles and knowing looks from strangers. You're just all over sick of it. You're spectacularly sick of the: when's your due date how far are you are you having a boy or a girl I bet you're sick of this what hospital are you going to, conversations. You miss when people used to ask about the soccer game you played or the book you're reading. You're sick of swollen handsfeetfaceneckanklesEVERYTHING. Oh and from the beginning of pregnancy until FRIDAY, I had NO stretch marks. Friday my entire lower abdomen erupted into one. giant. stretch mark. So all weekend, I thought, please let this be over soon. Every cramp I felt I welcomed and thought, "whatever work my body does now, it doesn't have to do during labor." Little did I know how much

Having Babies at Home

My whole life, I've heard the story of my cousin Anna's birth. And her sister's too. But I hear more about Anna's. My aunt didn't exactly have a lot of love for the medical profession. And her first baby had been a horrible experience. She'd had him wrenched from her at least as much as she "gave him up" for adoption by nursing staff who leered at her and called her unpleasant names. And she loved him when he was born. And she found him when he turned 18 and loved him till the day she died. When she had kids for keeps, she did it differently. She read books and assigned duties and had them at home. She was brave and surely faced many people who disagreed with her decision. But she stuck by her convictions and her desire for a natural birth and won 2 beautiful girls. My mom was there when Anna was born. So was her sister, Kristina. They both still get this sparkle in their eyes whenever they talk about it. My mom says it was one of the most

Dear Book Pimp

So I wrote this book and I think it's pretty decent. That's the feedback I'm getting anyway, which is bitchin' really since I have a degree in Education, NOT writing. Plus, this is my first try, so really I should be happy, right? But, turns out writing the book is maybe the easy part. The publishing is another story. You have to find a Literary Agent. To do this, you have to write a 1-3 page letter to many literary agents to convince them to read a sample chapter. Send it with a Self addressed stamped envelope (SASE) and wait. there's more but I'm already experiencing a high level anxiety just writing about this part. In my letter, I'm supposed to explain who I am, what my book's about, why I'm qualified to write it, why its sicky illy good, who'll read it, and on and on. AHHHHHhhhhh! This shit scares me. Also, I'm supposed to be witty, clever, literary, and junk. Oh and explain a 300 page book in a sales pitch. I'm not a frea