Totally random.

I've been writing post after post, and not publishing them.  I feel this insane (self-imposed) pressure to write meaningful, thought provoking, or funny and witty posts.

Sometimes I just don't feel very thought provoking, or funny and witty.

Sometimes, I just have a migraine and don't feel like doing much of anything.  Sometimes I want to blog about the mundane details, but I don't want to come across as bitchy or whining or complaining all the time (who wants to read a downer blog?).  Sometimes I have to remind myself that I don't have to be the best at everything.  I don't have to be the best seamstress, or the best blogger, or the best person in the whole world.

On the online forum that I visit most frequently, a woman started a thread where everyone listed what they're most proud of for the day, week, month, whatever.  She said that women don't really do that.... say what it is they're proud of themselves for doing, and that we *should* do it. 

The last reply on that thread was a woman who was proud of herself for keeping it together during her son's meltdowns, and for handling him with love, even though she was frustrated.  It brought tears to my eyes because I'm having similar issues right now with Phoebe, and I can totally relate.

Another woman had a signature that really resonated with me.  It's a picture of her two kids, jumping off of a rock against a beautiful sky, and underneath the picture is a quote from the Dalai Lama:

"My religion is very simple.  My religion is kindness."

Reading that thread about the woman and her son, and then seeing the picture with the quote really touched me.

I don't even really know what I'm trying to say.  I guess I just don't have very much focus or motivation lately, and I need to get it back.  I just need to be comfortable being me, being mediocre at most things, and learning to accept that.  I need to have a little more love, and a little more kindness, and a little more patience.  I need to be proud of myself for something.

I'm just going to knock their heads together.

Okay, so here's the thing.  Charlie and Bryan hate each other.

No, really.

You think I'm kidding?  Let me paint you a picture:

Small child sleeping in the bedroom, wakes up and cries.  Mother is otherwise indisposed at the moment (shower, outside watering the plants, talking on the phone, make something up).  Father enters the bedroom to pick up said child, and the crying child INSTANTLY transforms itself into a screaming banshee.  Father shushes and reassures the banshee, changes the banshee's diaper, and walks the banshee around the bedroom.  Banshee AGAIN transforms itself into a roaring wildebeast.

Father controls the urge to whack the wildebeast upside the head, and instead sets the wildebeast down, calls for the wildebeast's mother, and then goes into the living room to pull out his hair (all the while cursing the wildebeast's existence and simulatenous hatred of its father).

He demonstrated that when he holds her, she will not touch him.  Charlie will put her hand on my shoulder, and hold my hand with her other hand.  She will sometimes lay her head down on my chest, or grab my shirt, or hair, or brastrap.  She will raise her arms over her head, and arch her back when Bryan holds her (and he has shown me this over and over like a science experiment).

It's not about the boobs.  Our room mate can hold her.  My mother can hold her.  My best friend and my sister can hold her.  (note:  no other males have been brave enough to attempt to hold her.)  Seemingly anyone can hold her..... except her father.

I, however, remember when Phoebe was this age.  Bryan was solely in charge of changing each and every one of Phoebe's diapers, and that was their bonding time.  Phoebe preferred Bryan's company to mine, and we were both equally successful at calming her down.  Bryan would pop her in the sling, and take her outside, any time of day or night.  That man would move mountains to calm her down, and would only hand her off to me if he was CONVINCED that she was hungry and needed some boobage.

With Charlie, though, he'll make his perfunctory round of the bedroom while holding her, make the obligatory shushing noises, and then plunk her down and tell me, "She just doesn't want me.  She cries no matter what I do.  She wants you."

REALLY?  Seriously?

I am at my wit's end.  I feel like I am a single mother to this child.  I feed her, milk, baby food, what have you.  I change her diapers.  He gives her baths sometimes, but more often than not I bathe her.  I dress her.  I play with her most of the time.  He will occasionally hold her after she's been fed, or play with her for a bit on the floor or hold her on the couch, but not very often.

And never, EVER, when she's crying.

It's not that I necessarily think that he's doing anything wrong, but I think that he uses me as his "out", so he doesn't have to put forth that effort.  He doesn't have to really try, because he doesn't HAVE to.  He can chalk it up to the fact that she's screaming and crying, and that's not good for her, so just give her what she wants.  He doesn't want to go the extra mile because he's convinced that it won't make a difference.

I think he's wrong, and I'm getting pissed off and annoyed.  What to do?  Liquor her up and foist her upon him, saying, "Look!  She loves you so much she's DRUNK!"  Duct tape them to each other and force them to get along?  Make him wear one of my shirts that smells all ripe with my B.O.?

I have already decided that based on what's happening between the two of them right now, this will be our last child.  I just can't take it anymore.  A fight between a 6 month old and a grown man, a grudge match to the death.

I just.  don't.  get it.

Maybe yes, maybe no.

We're headed out the door in a few minutes to go to L.A. to help my dad pack.  He's selling the properties there, and relocating to be closer to work.  And we're helping him.  This time, FOR MONEY. 

I was thinking about this here blog and realized that it's been many moons since I posted.  I'm seriously considering dumping my blog altogether, since I don't seem to be able to come up with anything to say.  It's definitely something I'm going to really think about, especially since this blog ain't free.

My big dilemma right now is my upcoming 10 year reunion.  On one hand, I want to go and see all the shitty little popular kids that were so mean to me, to show them that HEY!  I grew boobies!  and HEY!  my kids are cuter than yours.... but that really drags me back into the whole highschoolsuckedandwhywouldIwanttogothroughallthatagain thing.  There *are* people that I'd like to see, though, so maybe I'll go. 

I haven't had enough coffee yet to successfully be coherent, so I'll sign off.  I'm taking my laptop with me, on the off chance that moving hilarities will ensue and give me something to blog about.  *wink*