Poetry or Utter Crap? You Decide.

In a pile of fall leaves I gingerly sit
So much hidden under their crunchy blanket
The words I want don't come. Not a single sound.
Except inside my heart still pounds pounds pounds.

Why did you call me here?
My heart whispers a warning in my ear.
What do you want, you fool?
Because I am trying to be done with you.

Important words left unsaid
The pulsing and ringing in my head
A door slamming in my face--
But really, who's been disgraced?

Even in my dreams I cannot escape
The swift current of your wake
I'm angry. I want you to go.
Unless you can give me all you've got, put on a show.

I will not fall prey anymore--
Be your victim or wallow on the floor
I'm done with the charade.
I'm calling it----"A spade is a spade."


I'm Not Sorry. Really.

I just read this friggin' fantabulous post via @DanielleSmithTV of ExtraordinaryMommy.com. It struck a nerve and I felt things within me begin to shift, crack, and turn on themselves. I was reading about myself. And I bet if you hop over there, you'll find the very same thing.

I apologize all the time. For nothing. For everything. For little, silly, insignificant things. "I'm sorry" is likely the most oft-used phrase in my vocabulary and perhaps beginning today I'll keep a tally--maybe even the next few days. Anyone wanna make any guesses? Maybe I'll throw in a prize? (Or I won't, and then I won't apologize. Mmm'kay?)

Danielle's post made me think about where it comes from, this incessant need to blurt out the phrase so frequently. It's become such a bad habit. I don't even realize I'm saying it half the time. I think it comes from my core, my lack of respect for myself, the high standards I hold myself to. It comes from listening to my mother who also apologizes on a regular basis. But like Danielle points out, it seems women are doing most of this, not men. Why? Because for the most part, we're the ones in the trenches. We're juggling everything, doing it all, trying to make 3,428 things fall into place on any given day. Even if we don't "work" per se and stay home with the kids, we're still cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, playing chauffeur, laundress, secretary, and personal shopper. We're raking the leaves, pulling the weeds, taking out the trash, playing referee and unclogging the toilet . We're schlepping to the vet, schlepping to the pediatrician, and schlepping to the PTA meetings. We're wiping butts, wiping countertops, and wiping runny noses. We're running errands, running after soccer balls in the street, running up and down the stairs. When we're off our game, the whole house of cards collapses; dinner doesn't get made, Joey's late for soccer practice, and we come home to dog barf all over the kitchen floor. And then we say it. We say, "I'm sorry."

No more I'm sorry. It's okay to have Stouffer's frozen lasagna for dinner sometimes.

No more Mrs. Nicey Nice. It's pointless to feel badly about stupid stuff.

No more apologizing for things that are not my fault or are out of my control (i.e. dog puke).

No more even thinking about apologizing when it's unnecessary.

No more apologizing for calling someone, worrying it might be a bad time (that's what voice mail is for).

No more apologizing to my kids when I'm telling them they can't do something. I'm the mom. I'M IN CHARGE, DAMN IT.

No more apologizing for crying. Emotions happen.

No more apologizing for missing important meetings. I just had hernia surgery.

No more apologizing for not commenting on all of your blogs. I do what I can when I can. I still love you.

No more apologizing for not being able to constantly juggle the 2,754 things that are on my plate without missing a beat. It's just not humanly possible. Perfection is unattainable.

In conclusion, I'm not sorry. Really, I'm not.

What are you not sorry about? Are you a perpetual apologizer like me? Do we need to start an Apologizers Anonymous?


Too Bad I Gave Away All My Maternity Clothes....

Because the surgery to fix this little sucker has transformed me into six months preggo lady. No lie. The hernia was 3 cm wide, or about the width of two fingers....or the width of that clampy tool thingie you see there, which is positioned right at the edges of the hernia itself.

Yummy, no?

So I know you're dying to see the outside, too, right? Especially the white Spanx girdle contraption which makes me feel really sexy? Here you go:

Sexy, no?
Well, let me just say it's a pretty powerful piece of fabric.
Because when I unleash the beast, this is what you see:

My poor tummy. The surgery was laparoscopic, which means
they made several incisions and slid their tools inside to sew
the mesh patch over the hole.
(That is tape and cotton packing over my belly button)
If that doesn't scare you, look at the side view.
Me in all my glory. Yech.

The swelling. Oh, and I didn't realize to perform the surgery laparoscopically, they have to pump you full of air. Yeah. So nice.

Anyone have any maternity tops I can borrow?

Anysurgery, thank you all for your love, care, concern, emails, calls, flowers, fruit arrangements, prayers, meals, and positive thoughts. I am off painkillers as of last night (let's cross our fingers I can stay that way), and am just taking Motrin and Extra Strength Tylenol.

Okay, back to bed for me. I'm almost done reading The Alchemist. Have a slew of others behind it. My mom is here helping out with the hooligans for a few days, thank goodness.

Should I do a giveaway for my girdle? Who wants it? I don't look half bad when it's on....

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