I knew it had been a while, but 25 days? Ouch.

When things are going badly (read: meds not working well, PTSD riding my not-inconsiderable ass, parenting generally challenging me beyond my limits) I tend to turn into a hermit. I don't want to be out there. I definitely don't want to have to be the funny fat girl for hours on end.

I don't know what to make of the fact that my psych (who, imho, is a genius with the patience of a saint) finds dealing with sexual abuse survivors 'boring'. Honestly, it smarts a little. I'm telling you about the murkiest, most disturbing parts of my life and you're bored? Maybe I need some kind of snappy song and dance routine to make it more interesting. Thinking about it though, it makes sense. There must be so much repetition, so great a pattern to it all that it's inevitable that it becomes tedious. I'm just having a hard time processing that 'boring' doesn't imply that I'm boring. God forbid that I'm boring ;) Mad. Addicted to chocolate and great coffee. Prone to long and ahem involved fantasies about Hugh Laurie in a darkened room. But boring? never.

The next post won't be like this, I promise. I promise you little fluffy kittens, rainbows and whole choruses of Julie Andrews lookalikes.

Okay, maybe not the last. But you get my drift...

Enormo-turkey in fridge.
Variety of squashes in differing sizes.
2 bottles wine.
Fancy-schmancy home-made floral arrangement thingie.

Daughter with raging stomach bug. :(

I know we've gotten off lightly; she's never been 'sick' sick since she was very very small, but it just sucks to have her feeling so sad. Tucked her up in bed and she asked for a special small bear to keep her company in her bed...I wonder if there's ever going to be a time when her sweetness leaves me dry-eyed?

So, off to bed. It's ridiculously early, but it's misty and dark out there, and somehow the bed seems like the right place to be. Goosedown and well-worn pillows, and a mug of chamomile tea. A time to be thankful, a life to be thankful for. Hard to look back a few months and remember how hard I was fighting to keep myself alive. There's always the same old creeping fear that I'll end up in that place again, and that one day I won't be strong enough to stop myself from falling, but for today everything I have is enough, a glut of riches.

It feels like Thanksgiving.

(I swore I'd never do this, but oh well ;) )

'It's okay mummy, farts are just air'

At this point, EJ's repertoire is more in the "thhhhhhhhhbp" league, accompanied by drool strings, but I'm confident that he's working on something equally reassuring :P

it's not your fault. I love the crispy crunchy leaves and demented colours. I think that pumpkin pie smells heavenly. When I wake up in the morning and there's frost on the ground and the sky's all pink and glowy I feel as though my heart is going to explode with the sheer brilliance of it all.

So why, Fall, why? If you're so great, then why do I get so damn depressed and homesick at this time of year?

I know. It's not you, it's me. I guess I'm just not ready to give up the idea that one day I'll be able to go back 25 years, and walk through the village to school in new shiny shoes a whole different person. I'm not yearning for the past; rather, I'm mourning the history that can't be rewritten.

Forgive me, Fall...

I'm going on a road trip (cue crazy butt wiggling chair dance)!!! A road trip!

But why the excitement, you ask? Because I'm going with an awesome friend (Kim the Incredible)and we're going ALONE! Yup, that's it. Without children...ok, the one she's gestating has to tag along but you can't have everything ;)

See, it was my birthday yesterday, and I finally asked for something that I really wanted/needed: I asked for a day off. Not off from being a mom - seems that's something that's permanent - but a day off from being the at-home mom. It's going to feel really really weird; joking aside, this may be the longest 8 hours of my life (apart from labour, and it's ok sweeties, I forgive you)...

So, just for today, the jokes will be dirty, the music will be loud, the only hands grabbing my boobs will be my own (there's such a thing as too much excitement) and the coffee will be abundant.

Target, you have been warned. We have the Canadian $$$ and we're coming to get you.

oh, and the welling-up. That's nothing. not that I'm going to miss C and EJ like crazy.