Sunday, 1 March 2009

Goodbye, Summer. I Will Never Forget You.

Yesterday, as I was sitting in the massage chair getting a pedicure, I wondered what I would do if a random person walked in and started shooting the place up. Hide behind the chair next to me, probably. And, if I made it out alive and my shopping bags were blood spattered, would I still take them home?

Welcome to my brain.

Then, I heard a baby squawk, and it sounded so cute. Ahh, newborns. A little later, I heard a baby crying so full-on and loud, I shuddered to my core. Newborns, ahhhh!


I don't miss Rocco as a newborn anymore ..... yet, I still wish I could build a time machine and travel back to May 08 and just cover him with kisses and love and my undivided mother-ness. Instead of being so, so SO entirely traumatised. Instead of taking this photo ... just to see what terror looks like.


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(PHOTO REMOVED ..... sorry, but it kept FREAKING ME THE FUCK OUT.)



I took that photo at midnight, on the worst day of my life. The day of Daves surgery. For some reason, I led my head into believing he wasn't going to make it through the operation. Curse you, vivid imagination. That day was even worse than the day my dad killed himself. Worse than anything. (Check out the pink heart on my shirt ... it looks uncannily like a vagina.)

I'm so totally ok ... just, fascinated by it all, really. Admiring my scars, as it were.

__

It's 11.16pm and I have been trying to finish an article all day. The deadline is tomorrow ... I'm back in high school again, writing my homework the night before. I am ridiculous.

It's also March 1st, and I'm blogging every day for a month. March ... I kept thinking that March was the last month of summer. No. No it's not, it's the freakin' first day of Autumn. It's still warm ... but the jig is up. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Here is a happier photo. It's what happens when your baby stays up the entire day with not one nap. Not-a-one, nay nay nay.


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Thank you for your too kind comments on my voice, in the previous post. When I was a child, I had the smallest, peep of a voice. And high pitched, and uncertain. I was painfully shy as a kid. It wasn't until my last year of high school that I toughened up ... when the Anger really started to kick in. My voice got lower, louder, and tougher.

And ha .. I would bat for the other team for all of you, too. You are all hot.

HOWEVER ..... I know naught of this accent of which you speak? Surely you jest? It is not I who has an accent ... I think it is YOU!

Heh.
xo



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