I Can’t Categorize This One

I’m not a seed, or a hipster, or anything that can be classified. Female? Wow, that’s original. Aren’t many of those around.

Have I mentioned lately that I’m in love with Isabel, Milla, my pets, and my new house? Not necessarily in that order. Well, that order, except the two children are interchangeable. And I do love my new little house. It’s not large, by any stretch of the imagination, but it suits us fine. My dad is bringing Isabel a playhouse. It used to be my sister’s children’s, then Milla’s, then niece Sarah’s, now Isabel gets it and she gets it at home instead of at my parent’s, which is nice for her because we rarely venture there. It’s a little blue house. I need to scrub and repaint it. I will probably choose a color other than blue to blend with the landscape.

I must go to bed. I must also confess, to the very few who read my blog, that in times of stress I resort to prescription sleep aids. After nearly two decades of insomnia, I finally gave in and asked Miss Doctor, is there something I can take while breastfeeding that will help me to sleep through the night and not wake up worrying about any number of things at 4 am? Why yes, there is one pill, and it won’t make you drive across the city to your boyfriend’s house in your sleep (like Ambien did the one time I took it four years ago). I was lucky I wasn’t killed. She said Ambien is not tested for breastfeeding. I would not take it, in that case, even if it weren’t for the driving incident. So I’ve been stressed about starting my own practice. I will be partnering with a friend and in that I’m grateful. I’m not concerned about the practice part of it. I do that, have been doing that for three years. It’s the bringing in business part that scares me, and the tension with the people I was sharing with before. Things have not been pretty and I don’t like this at all. So, the sleeping aid. C’est la vie. But it’s working and it’s working now so I’m going to snuggle my three-year-old, the three-year-old who now wears UNDERWEAR, I might add, because I knew she was ready and I told her three-year-olds wear underwear all the time and not diapers. She’s a champ and it’s going swimmingly. As is this paragraph. It has swum from one topic to the next. Amazing paragraph it is. I’ll let it go now and proceed forthwith to bed.

Unspoken Messages Conveyed to Strangers

Have you ever noticed two people conversing with one another in such a manner that says to inadvertent eavesdroppers that they want people to listen to what they are saying? They speak just a little louder than necessary. Often the topic of the conversation is nothing special. Usually I find that the speakers carry an underlying neediness, but of course, that is my interpretation. See me, hear me! They seem to say.

Thinking this over, I realized most of us probably have unspoken messages we wish to convey to strangers. Mine is that I have children. Over and over when I’m out and about without one of them, I see moms with children in tow and want mine there with me so that I too show that I’m a mom. When they’re with me, I never think of it. Weird. I don’t know why I care, but I do.

I’m often shocked at the assumptions people form about me. So often I’m going along living in my head, wondering how I’m going to fit all I need to do into my day, and I hear back from someone that I was ignoring them as I passed them on the street. I hear this and think, I didn’t even see you, and hey, why didn’t you say something? Ah well. Such is life.