Sometimes life needs to take precedence over online decompression. I'll not be publishing for awhile.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
I learn new things every day
Just this week I have learned so much----
1. I learned that I may not have the strength to make it through M's Throttling Threes since I feel like I only came out of G's a minute and a half ago. At 2.5, M is already declaring his insanity loud and clear, throwing temper tantrums at the slightest provocation. I am effing tired of this shit.
2. I learned (or realized) that in 18 months I will have 5 hours a week of JUST ME TIME. When I can grocery shop alone or get my hair done. Or pee by myself.
3. I learned that when a husband says, "I want to spend more time together," it does not mean he wants to go see cool concerts at a local ampitheater. "I want to spend more time together" appears to be code for, "I want more sex." You'd think after nearly 15 years of marriage, I'd be better able to understand the lingo.
4. I learned that I have zero engineering skills since the float I helped N make for her school project collapsed into a heap of rubble about 20 seconds into her pulling it down the school hallway. (Although I would be willing to bet user error was part of the problem too.)
5. I learned that the reason I like doing projects around the house, like painting a bathroom or making a photo display out of baby crib wiring, is because they have a definite BEGINNING and END, unlike everything else I do in this SAHM gig. Laundry never ends. Dusting never ends. Kids needing food or diaper changes or help wiping never ends. Picking up toys never ends. (Of course, I know it will end eventually.....but at too far a place in the future for me to be able to see it.)
I'll be a damn genius with a brain the size of Neptune if I live to be 80, what with all this knowledge I'm gaining every day.
1. I learned that I may not have the strength to make it through M's Throttling Threes since I feel like I only came out of G's a minute and a half ago. At 2.5, M is already declaring his insanity loud and clear, throwing temper tantrums at the slightest provocation. I am effing tired of this shit.
2. I learned (or realized) that in 18 months I will have 5 hours a week of JUST ME TIME. When I can grocery shop alone or get my hair done. Or pee by myself.
3. I learned that when a husband says, "I want to spend more time together," it does not mean he wants to go see cool concerts at a local ampitheater. "I want to spend more time together" appears to be code for, "I want more sex." You'd think after nearly 15 years of marriage, I'd be better able to understand the lingo.
4. I learned that I have zero engineering skills since the float I helped N make for her school project collapsed into a heap of rubble about 20 seconds into her pulling it down the school hallway. (Although I would be willing to bet user error was part of the problem too.)
5. I learned that the reason I like doing projects around the house, like painting a bathroom or making a photo display out of baby crib wiring, is because they have a definite BEGINNING and END, unlike everything else I do in this SAHM gig. Laundry never ends. Dusting never ends. Kids needing food or diaper changes or help wiping never ends. Picking up toys never ends. (Of course, I know it will end eventually.....but at too far a place in the future for me to be able to see it.)
I'll be a damn genius with a brain the size of Neptune if I live to be 80, what with all this knowledge I'm gaining every day.
How long it takes my goose to cook
Up at 6:30 am today.
By 8:15---N, G, and M dressed, fed and ready to go. Oh, yeah, me too, although the "ready to go" part is debatable. Beds made.
Homemade refried beans recipe in the crockpot.
9:00--fitness class.
10:15--taking boys to play with friends at indoor soccer gym.
11:15--at Kroger with both boys to pick up a gallon of milk (which I forgot), frozen onions (forgot those too), sliced cheese, whole wheat flour, bananas, salad dressing, unsweetened coconut. The boys demanded a "car" cart and insisted on being buckled in. We weren't 30 feet into the store before they were out. Of course, M pitched a lovely fit when I returned the car cart and got one that one is actually able to push with some ease.
12:00--home, lunches fixed and being eaten. Laundry load 1 of 2 in the washer.
1:15-- both boys napping. Ironing D's work clothes. Sweep kitchen and hallway. Shake laundry room rugs and sweep the floor. Fold laundry. Add load 2 to the washing machine. Call my mom to catch up. Get the mail.
3:30-- G up from nap. Doing activity book together on the couch.
3:40-- Wake up M and spend next 20 minutes attempting to get him to stop looking at the ants and get in the car, get buckled so we can pick up N.
4:04 -- In car pool line.
4:18-- At bank to drop off birthday card to my brother and give him coloring books for my niece.
4:40 -- Home again, giving snacks to kids. Folding last batch of laundry.
5:15-- Picking strawberries from my small patch. Make bubble pool for the boys. Neighbor's grandkids come over. Next hour and a half spent walking from our yard to neighbor's to keep an eye on the kids.
7:05 -- D home. Putting supper on the table.
7:40 -- Practicing piano with N.
8:10 -- Attempting to wrestle/encourage/induce/bribe kids to get pajamas on, empty their bladders and brush teeth.
8:35 -- Reading with N.
8:55 -- Nursing M, rocking both boys, singing our songs.
9:15 -- My head just about pops off my body when G insists on going potty (even though he refused to a short time ago). Aside from general annoyingness of him refusing to pee an hour ago and NOW wanting to go, I am also PMSing AND generally fucking tired after being awake for almost 15 hours, which doesn't make it right that I completely lost my temper and was truly, truly a Monster Mama.
9:25 -- Apologized to G after calling in Daddy to give me a few minutes to cool down and prevent me from ramming G's head into the tub surround. Laid with him in his bed. Wiped his tears. Apologized again. Told him happy things he could think about from this week.
9:32 -- Awash in mommy guilt for the remainder of the evening.
By 8:15---N, G, and M dressed, fed and ready to go. Oh, yeah, me too, although the "ready to go" part is debatable. Beds made.
Homemade refried beans recipe in the crockpot.
9:00--fitness class.
10:15--taking boys to play with friends at indoor soccer gym.
11:15--at Kroger with both boys to pick up a gallon of milk (which I forgot), frozen onions (forgot those too), sliced cheese, whole wheat flour, bananas, salad dressing, unsweetened coconut. The boys demanded a "car" cart and insisted on being buckled in. We weren't 30 feet into the store before they were out. Of course, M pitched a lovely fit when I returned the car cart and got one that one is actually able to push with some ease.
12:00--home, lunches fixed and being eaten. Laundry load 1 of 2 in the washer.
1:15-- both boys napping. Ironing D's work clothes. Sweep kitchen and hallway. Shake laundry room rugs and sweep the floor. Fold laundry. Add load 2 to the washing machine. Call my mom to catch up. Get the mail.
3:30-- G up from nap. Doing activity book together on the couch.
3:40-- Wake up M and spend next 20 minutes attempting to get him to stop looking at the ants and get in the car, get buckled so we can pick up N.
4:04 -- In car pool line.
4:18-- At bank to drop off birthday card to my brother and give him coloring books for my niece.
4:40 -- Home again, giving snacks to kids. Folding last batch of laundry.
5:15-- Picking strawberries from my small patch. Make bubble pool for the boys. Neighbor's grandkids come over. Next hour and a half spent walking from our yard to neighbor's to keep an eye on the kids.
7:05 -- D home. Putting supper on the table.
7:40 -- Practicing piano with N.
8:10 -- Attempting to wrestle/encourage/induce/bribe kids to get pajamas on, empty their bladders and brush teeth.
8:35 -- Reading with N.
8:55 -- Nursing M, rocking both boys, singing our songs.
9:15 -- My head just about pops off my body when G insists on going potty (even though he refused to a short time ago). Aside from general annoyingness of him refusing to pee an hour ago and NOW wanting to go, I am also PMSing AND generally fucking tired after being awake for almost 15 hours, which doesn't make it right that I completely lost my temper and was truly, truly a Monster Mama.
9:25 -- Apologized to G after calling in Daddy to give me a few minutes to cool down and prevent me from ramming G's head into the tub surround. Laid with him in his bed. Wiped his tears. Apologized again. Told him happy things he could think about from this week.
9:32 -- Awash in mommy guilt for the remainder of the evening.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Bathing suits, weight, healthiness
Yesterday I went bathing suit shopping. In general, I would rather eat glass than shop for clothes, and this is especially true when it comes to purchasing swimwear.
I admit that when I looked in the mirror, I was not too happy with what I saw. Despite working out, there are some things....3 pregnancies and age....that are really hard to overcome unless you are willing and able to work out every single day with great consistency for at least an hour and give up a lot of things you love in the food department. So I left the stall with two separates in hand feeling somewhat defeated.
I shopped a little more, with the intent of finding a new blouse, and looked at my fellow shoppers. I managed to turn my psyche to my general thinking in life, a spin on "Is it better than what I have now?, which is, "Is my (weight, intelligence, hairstyle, insert whatever here) better than those of the people I see around me or the public at large?"
And I would be a liar if I said my weight/body didn't look better than most of my Kohl's shopping cohorts.
I realize that if I stood in a swimsuit next to a model (especially one who wasn't 38 and hadn't birthed 3 children) I would look crappy. But next to average Jane who is the same age and has 3 children, I look pretty awesome, in my opinion (at least in my neck of the US woods, which has serious obesity/sedentary problems).
This thought didn't make me feel smug; rather I felt a little sad. It made me wonder whether I am prejudiced against overweight people. Swistle's post, which I read last night, made me wonder even more.
I don't think that overweight people are any less smart, capable, well-read, nice, decent than anyone else. But I admit I do tend to judge heavier people about their lifestyle choices...the food they eat, how much and often, and how frequently they exercise. I know that body types are fixed and beyond our control, certainly. I am taller and thinner than most women, which has much to do with my paternal grandmother and great-grandmother being tall and rail-thin. I know that people can be heavier and strong/muscular/athletic. Skinny is no good either; there is nothing appealing about skin & bones, a'la Leann Rimes. I want to be fit.
(Lest anyone surmise I only judge heavier people, I should note that I judge anybody who purchases nothing but junk at the grocery. It simply baffles me how anyone can eat that much processed stuff. I also judge people who smoke....cause that shit is just dumb.)
One of the questions I asked myself is whether I am prejudiced if I think to myself, "I don't want to become fat." Because whenever I feel particularly not in the mood to work out, I need only to see someone overweight to give me the motivation to keep at it.
Because I had gestational diabetes during my first pregnancy and my A1C levels put me at high risk for diabetes until I began working out for 2 1-hour sessions a week, another big motivator is keeping my insides healthy. I do not want diabetes if there is anything at all I can do to keep it at bay.
To be honest, I know I mention the unhealthiness of being overweight to my children. I know I say things like, "We need to eat our healthy food first before we have treats." I know I say things like, "If you overeat treats and don't exercise enough you may become overweight." I don't want my kids to think being overweight makes someone a bad person, but it is certainly not optimal. I don't think I've ever heard anyone say, "I am so thankful that I am overweight." In all honesty, I haven't thought a whole lot about how my children, especially N, think of what I say in this regard. Maybe that is one of the luxuries of innate thinness.
Every woman has body issues; I would living in la-la-land if I thought N would be exempt from this. When I was younger I wanted larger breasts. Now I would like perkier breasts, less of a abdominal pooch, and for my thighs not to touch. But I'm not going to starve myself to be that way, nor am I going to exercise constantly and forego the more important things, like taking care of my house and kids and enjoying life.
I have to remind myself that celebrities, who have trainers and chefs, and who work out often also have body issues. They are real people who just happen to be airbrushed and Photoshopped to make the rest of us feel like our bodies are "less than." How many times have I looked at the photos of Scarlet Johannsson in a bikini to make myself feel better about my back quarters.
So at this point, I'm still muddling through these feelings. I don't have an answer for myself yet as to whether I'm doing N a disservice by feeling as I do and saying what I say.
I admit that when I looked in the mirror, I was not too happy with what I saw. Despite working out, there are some things....3 pregnancies and age....that are really hard to overcome unless you are willing and able to work out every single day with great consistency for at least an hour and give up a lot of things you love in the food department. So I left the stall with two separates in hand feeling somewhat defeated.
I shopped a little more, with the intent of finding a new blouse, and looked at my fellow shoppers. I managed to turn my psyche to my general thinking in life, a spin on "Is it better than what I have now?, which is, "Is my (weight, intelligence, hairstyle, insert whatever here) better than those of the people I see around me or the public at large?"
And I would be a liar if I said my weight/body didn't look better than most of my Kohl's shopping cohorts.
I realize that if I stood in a swimsuit next to a model (especially one who wasn't 38 and hadn't birthed 3 children) I would look crappy. But next to average Jane who is the same age and has 3 children, I look pretty awesome, in my opinion (at least in my neck of the US woods, which has serious obesity/sedentary problems).
This thought didn't make me feel smug; rather I felt a little sad. It made me wonder whether I am prejudiced against overweight people. Swistle's post, which I read last night, made me wonder even more.
I don't think that overweight people are any less smart, capable, well-read, nice, decent than anyone else. But I admit I do tend to judge heavier people about their lifestyle choices...the food they eat, how much and often, and how frequently they exercise. I know that body types are fixed and beyond our control, certainly. I am taller and thinner than most women, which has much to do with my paternal grandmother and great-grandmother being tall and rail-thin. I know that people can be heavier and strong/muscular/athletic. Skinny is no good either; there is nothing appealing about skin & bones, a'la Leann Rimes. I want to be fit.
(Lest anyone surmise I only judge heavier people, I should note that I judge anybody who purchases nothing but junk at the grocery. It simply baffles me how anyone can eat that much processed stuff. I also judge people who smoke....cause that shit is just dumb.)
One of the questions I asked myself is whether I am prejudiced if I think to myself, "I don't want to become fat." Because whenever I feel particularly not in the mood to work out, I need only to see someone overweight to give me the motivation to keep at it.
Because I had gestational diabetes during my first pregnancy and my A1C levels put me at high risk for diabetes until I began working out for 2 1-hour sessions a week, another big motivator is keeping my insides healthy. I do not want diabetes if there is anything at all I can do to keep it at bay.
To be honest, I know I mention the unhealthiness of being overweight to my children. I know I say things like, "We need to eat our healthy food first before we have treats." I know I say things like, "If you overeat treats and don't exercise enough you may become overweight." I don't want my kids to think being overweight makes someone a bad person, but it is certainly not optimal. I don't think I've ever heard anyone say, "I am so thankful that I am overweight." In all honesty, I haven't thought a whole lot about how my children, especially N, think of what I say in this regard. Maybe that is one of the luxuries of innate thinness.
Every woman has body issues; I would living in la-la-land if I thought N would be exempt from this. When I was younger I wanted larger breasts. Now I would like perkier breasts, less of a abdominal pooch, and for my thighs not to touch. But I'm not going to starve myself to be that way, nor am I going to exercise constantly and forego the more important things, like taking care of my house and kids and enjoying life.
I have to remind myself that celebrities, who have trainers and chefs, and who work out often also have body issues. They are real people who just happen to be airbrushed and Photoshopped to make the rest of us feel like our bodies are "less than." How many times have I looked at the photos of Scarlet Johannsson in a bikini to make myself feel better about my back quarters.
So at this point, I'm still muddling through these feelings. I don't have an answer for myself yet as to whether I'm doing N a disservice by feeling as I do and saying what I say.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
The 5-year project
After reading Mama Bethany's post about her daughter's JCPenney portraits, I thought I'd post what I've done with my kids' JCP portraits.
I save a wallet-size photo from each of their sittings---from 3 months to 5 years. Then after their 5-year portrait (after which I stop doing JCP photos and just purchase the school photos), I have these wallets framed all together.
This is N's. (These photos are terrible because I couldn't use the flash or there would be bright spots all over from the glass and gloss.)
I will have the boys' photos finished in matching frames. N's is above my dresser, and eventually I will have all 3 hanging there. When I die, the kids can have their portrait collages, but until then I'm going to savor being able to glimpse how quickly my children's childhoods passed.
This is what I have so far for G---come September, I will be able to get his framed, which sorta blows my mind. It seemed like it took forever to get N's done. Of all of my children, G's life has passed most quickly.
It sorta bugs me that the 3-year photo is horizontal, while the others are vertical, but it's not like I can do anything about it. It also sorta bugs me that all the backgrounds are not the same, but I try to remember that the photos capture a moment in time (and their outfits at that particular moment might have looked terrible with another background), and the whole point is to see the kids' faces and growth.
And M's:
I am also saving Spring school picture wallets, which are usually better than the Fall ones (which are used for the yearbook and have that "Deer in the Headlights" look about them). Those start in 3-year-old preschool and will be saved until high school.
I'm still waiting to receive N's 2nd grade Spring portrait, but here is 2 years of preschool, kindergarten and 1st grade.
I like for the photos throughout the house to be current---what the kids look like now---for the most part, but doing these allow me to savor some of the delight of when the kids were very young.
I save a wallet-size photo from each of their sittings---from 3 months to 5 years. Then after their 5-year portrait (after which I stop doing JCP photos and just purchase the school photos), I have these wallets framed all together.
This is N's. (These photos are terrible because I couldn't use the flash or there would be bright spots all over from the glass and gloss.)
I will have the boys' photos finished in matching frames. N's is above my dresser, and eventually I will have all 3 hanging there. When I die, the kids can have their portrait collages, but until then I'm going to savor being able to glimpse how quickly my children's childhoods passed.
This is what I have so far for G---come September, I will be able to get his framed, which sorta blows my mind. It seemed like it took forever to get N's done. Of all of my children, G's life has passed most quickly.
It sorta bugs me that the 3-year photo is horizontal, while the others are vertical, but it's not like I can do anything about it. It also sorta bugs me that all the backgrounds are not the same, but I try to remember that the photos capture a moment in time (and their outfits at that particular moment might have looked terrible with another background), and the whole point is to see the kids' faces and growth.
And M's:
I am also saving Spring school picture wallets, which are usually better than the Fall ones (which are used for the yearbook and have that "Deer in the Headlights" look about them). Those start in 3-year-old preschool and will be saved until high school.
I'm still waiting to receive N's 2nd grade Spring portrait, but here is 2 years of preschool, kindergarten and 1st grade.
I like for the photos throughout the house to be current---what the kids look like now---for the most part, but doing these allow me to savor some of the delight of when the kids were very young.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
I can't help but make fun of this children's book
For the most part, I love children's literature. While I tend to be a snob about adult books, I am much more of the "whatever gets a kid to enjoy reading" philosophy when it comes to little ones.
One of my favorite children's books of the moment is Monster Mama by Liz Rosenberg and illustrated by Stephen Gammell. I think I fell in love with it based on the following:
"Patrick Edward was a wonderful boy, but his mother was a monster."
"Her bad moods terrified the neighborhood."
Sometimes, though, I come across a big huge dud of a book, a book so stupid all I can do is pick it apart in my head while I'm reading it to the kids.
The book Weebles: The Weebleville Talent Show is one of those books. I can go along with the general plot and theme---taking on too much isn't good for a person (or a Weeble) and you need to rely on your friends.
But there is a "romance" between two Weebles in the story, Tibby Wobnobbin (an elephant Weeble) and Tooey Winkington (a turtle Weeble who is also a firefighter). Why is a suggested romance even necessary in a Weebles book? She calls him "my darling Tooey" and "Tooeykins." They have a special practice for the talent show......yeah right, special practice, my ass. They practice "for hours." Every time I read this to the boys (M got it for a present) I envision a giant Weeble orgy, with animals of all kinds boning each other in the center of Weebleville.
What is even more mind-boggling to me is that Tooey is doing a break-dancing routine for the Weebleville Talent Show! The story says--
"Tooey started with some fancy footwork. Then he moved into the 'popping and locking' part of his performance. Finally he slid to the floor for his big finish--a Super Speedy Back Spin!"
Oh Lord help me. He is a Weeble and has no legs or feet. How in g*d's name can he do fancy footwork??? What parts exactly is he going to "pop and lock?" And though he is a turtle, he can't fall down (per the jingle) so isn't a back spin sorta impossible? When he tries to throw himself to the floor to spin, won't he immediately pop back up onto his wobble?
I'm telling you it is all a veiled story about Tibby and Tooey bonkin' each other's brains out.
As I read it, every time I read it, I have these same stupid thoughts, a raging blitz of criticisms spewing from my brain into the abyss. I'm not sure what is more insane---the book or my diatribe response to it.
One of my favorite children's books of the moment is Monster Mama by Liz Rosenberg and illustrated by Stephen Gammell. I think I fell in love with it based on the following:
"Patrick Edward was a wonderful boy, but his mother was a monster."
"Her bad moods terrified the neighborhood."
Sometimes, though, I come across a big huge dud of a book, a book so stupid all I can do is pick it apart in my head while I'm reading it to the kids.
The book Weebles: The Weebleville Talent Show is one of those books. I can go along with the general plot and theme---taking on too much isn't good for a person (or a Weeble) and you need to rely on your friends.
But there is a "romance" between two Weebles in the story, Tibby Wobnobbin (an elephant Weeble) and Tooey Winkington (a turtle Weeble who is also a firefighter). Why is a suggested romance even necessary in a Weebles book? She calls him "my darling Tooey" and "Tooeykins." They have a special practice for the talent show......yeah right, special practice, my ass. They practice "for hours." Every time I read this to the boys (M got it for a present) I envision a giant Weeble orgy, with animals of all kinds boning each other in the center of Weebleville.
What is even more mind-boggling to me is that Tooey is doing a break-dancing routine for the Weebleville Talent Show! The story says--
"Tooey started with some fancy footwork. Then he moved into the 'popping and locking' part of his performance. Finally he slid to the floor for his big finish--a Super Speedy Back Spin!"
Oh Lord help me. He is a Weeble and has no legs or feet. How in g*d's name can he do fancy footwork??? What parts exactly is he going to "pop and lock?" And though he is a turtle, he can't fall down (per the jingle) so isn't a back spin sorta impossible? When he tries to throw himself to the floor to spin, won't he immediately pop back up onto his wobble?
I'm telling you it is all a veiled story about Tibby and Tooey bonkin' each other's brains out.
As I read it, every time I read it, I have these same stupid thoughts, a raging blitz of criticisms spewing from my brain into the abyss. I'm not sure what is more insane---the book or my diatribe response to it.
3 more reasons not to divorce
I was able to think of 3 more reasons why I don't want to wreck my marriage:
1. Dependency--
It sucks, but as a stay-at-home mom I am completely dependent on my husband for my livelihood. Last year I made about $350 for my freelance writing, so that certainly isn't enough to keep me and 3 kids afloat. If D up and abandoned me, I would most certainly make his life and checkbook miserable but there is no getting around that every financial statistic I've ever read notes what a bum deal divorce is to wealth over the long-term.
2. An Older Body--
When D and I hooked up, I was 21. While I don't think I was as physically strong as I am now that I've been working with a trainer for two years, I was also 17 years younger. My abdomen hadn't been stretched to TimbukTu 3 times, nor had my breasts nursed babies for 4+ years. I didn't have skin tags all over the place. My gums hadn't started receding.
D and I have been seeing each other naked for a long time, so there is none of that embarrassment, the shyness that comes with a new lover. If D and I split, I can only assume that neither of us would abstain from sex for the rest of our lives, which means both of us would be having to show off our sorry, aged asses to others. The guys I would likely hook up with would also be in their 40s or 50s. The gals he would hook up with would likely have a lot more junk in their trunk than me.....if I'm just going by the general population I see in these parts. On a purely surface level, we're better off sticking with the naked bodies we've been looking at for almost 20 years.
3. My children and whomever's children--
Since D and I would likely hook up with others, the chances are pretty good that the others would also have children. I have enough trouble being able to tolerate my own children that I think it would be a great STRETCH to attempt to tolerate children I didn't deliver. As much mess as there is in "intact" families, step-families bring with them all kinds of mess that I can't even begin to wrap my head around.
Clearly I need a new scrapbook or painting project to work on. My cerebral cortex is getting a workout thinking about this kinds of junk.
1. Dependency--
It sucks, but as a stay-at-home mom I am completely dependent on my husband for my livelihood. Last year I made about $350 for my freelance writing, so that certainly isn't enough to keep me and 3 kids afloat. If D up and abandoned me, I would most certainly make his life and checkbook miserable but there is no getting around that every financial statistic I've ever read notes what a bum deal divorce is to wealth over the long-term.
2. An Older Body--
When D and I hooked up, I was 21. While I don't think I was as physically strong as I am now that I've been working with a trainer for two years, I was also 17 years younger. My abdomen hadn't been stretched to TimbukTu 3 times, nor had my breasts nursed babies for 4+ years. I didn't have skin tags all over the place. My gums hadn't started receding.
D and I have been seeing each other naked for a long time, so there is none of that embarrassment, the shyness that comes with a new lover. If D and I split, I can only assume that neither of us would abstain from sex for the rest of our lives, which means both of us would be having to show off our sorry, aged asses to others. The guys I would likely hook up with would also be in their 40s or 50s. The gals he would hook up with would likely have a lot more junk in their trunk than me.....if I'm just going by the general population I see in these parts. On a purely surface level, we're better off sticking with the naked bodies we've been looking at for almost 20 years.
3. My children and whomever's children--
Since D and I would likely hook up with others, the chances are pretty good that the others would also have children. I have enough trouble being able to tolerate my own children that I think it would be a great STRETCH to attempt to tolerate children I didn't deliver. As much mess as there is in "intact" families, step-families bring with them all kinds of mess that I can't even begin to wrap my head around.
Clearly I need a new scrapbook or painting project to work on. My cerebral cortex is getting a workout thinking about this kinds of junk.
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