I never really liked writing much, I got into it for my computer class in HS. I wrote an essay about how I met my friend Ashley. Donuts Brought Us Together. And that’s what I wrote about. We met through girl scouts and I gave her my 2nd donut that I had and knew I wouldn’t eat before our Girl Scout event that day. We’ve been friends on and off since. We’ve had a few rough patches, but we’re just similar enough that we don’t want to lose each other. She’s a pretty great friend. We just had some shitty moments that I couldn’t confront her about. We’ve had our discussions and we’re all cool now. 🙂 And I love her dearly and I treasure all the dope memories we’ve shared and hopefully will have later.
Anyways, about writing. I didn’t like it, I never thought I was good at it. How do you know you’re a good writer, or a bad one. Can you make sense? Can you follow your subject. Sometimes I go off, explaining other parts that make up my story. I think it means I’m not the best writer, but I share my inner thoughts. I speak bluntly, I speak my truth. I can text and email and blog more than I’m willing to share in person. But, I can get to that point with anyone. My face changes colors, probably multiple times when I discuss what hurts or whats bugging me.
What’s bugging me, today? Quite a lot. My habit of biting my nails is annoying me into more biting of my nails. I also hate that I don’t get to see my best friend this weekend. It was going to be awesome. Hookah, new hair cut, AMAZING mac n cheese(Which I’m totally asking my guy to make), and shopping and exploring the amazing and freezing streets of Portland. I miss her like crazy. 😦
Also, I need a girls day, I want to get my nails, hair, shopping, smoking, and seeing all my pretty ladies. I need that day. I love and miss my girls. All busy bee’s. Gotta find the time to see them all. Head Hunters with Brooke and Sam tomorrow night. And I’ll see Ashley and Lisa at some point before the weekend ends. And I’ll see my beautiful Ana within the next month. I have to, I have so much to give her. 😛
I had an argument with myself this morning, not aloud, of course. There is something I’m not saying. I hadn’t realized how badly I need privacy. My blog is my baby, right now. (That’s ironic, I’ll get to that later) I’m really glad I took it off my FB, I heard “Everyone’s read it” meaning everyone I know well on my FB, and that freaked me out. But, not as much as my new guy. I feel it burning inside me, it made me so nervous. Did he read it, what if it makes him think different. Its really a lot, and its not everything. Its intense for my age. I feel dirty, I feel gross, I feel just miserable. And I have no idea how to bring that feeling up.
Change in subject.
Its ticking. Its started ticking. Its been in the back of my mind for the past several years, I will be a mother one day. Why is this starting to feel impossible to subside. I was there through a miscarriage. I’ve been given a Beatles onesie as a gift. And now I’m once again really close with my friend Lisa with her baby Hunter of 5 months. The mention of siblings, the idea of my own kin has come up. Its hard to ignore the mommy inside of me. I love being around Hunter or any child. The innocence, the love, the happiness. They unconditionally love you, they desperately need you.
Its pure. And its very real. And very easy to see. Its amazing to look into little baby Hunter’s eyes and see it all. He’s so fascinated, he needs so much of you, he’s so very easily entertained. Its just beautiful.
I was MADE to be a mother. And I will one day achieve my life long dream. I understand its not today. Its just hard to get past. I needed to get out that I’m dying inside. And that because of what I’ve put myself through I’ve gone through many phases of the feeling that it’ll never happen, what happens if I can’t carry my own. I don’t think I would be able to live on if that happened. Truly. That’s my dream. I want to carry my child. I want those months of feeling them inside my belly, as I watch them grow from a tiny seed to watch that heart flutter, to feel that kick to the kidney, the glow of there skin, the soft touch of there hand. That pain I will endure to bring them into this world. My child. My bitty baby.
Motherhood is something I envy. I cannot wait. And its been kinda wonderful buying small things for Hunter. Though I really wish I could be buying them for myself. I wish I had my amazing job elsewhere when I become a mother. That I get my leave, my insurance, my day care AT MY JOB just underneath where I work. This is a beautiful place to work, I wish I could’ve gotten this like in a few years. I have goals, that seem unachievable unless my current relationship is meant to be, and he truly is, my Mr. Right. It’s too easy to picture with him, it makes me nervous. Where I am, who we are. Its right. He’s everything I’ve always wanted. He’s funny, and he makes me smile, and music is my world and its a huge part in his too. We are very similar, and have just enough not that I feel like we fit like a puzzle. Its quite adorable.
My goal was that at 25 I would be pregnant or already have my first child. I don’t want to wait any longer than that. And I know if I’m alone, I can’t actually achieve that. Unless alone and at a job as amazing as this one, or better. I don’t lift heavy items, I’m not around any hazardous materials or chemicals. I could work through my entire pregnancy and then go on leave and come back when I’m ready to put my child in day care. Or figure something out til they are. I’m never gonna be fully prepared to be a mother. But, I have experienced a lot. Felt the innocence and the love babies have. I have been around many preschools, either because of girl scouts, or throughout HS. My best friend’s mom was a preschool teacher, and my senior project was teaching a preschool class. I love little kids, and I love seeing when parents raised there kids right. Versus when I find the kids that need to be taught differently…. I feel really bad for them, they had parents that didn’t know what to do when forced to become parents, they were not ready. And the kids are suffering. If you wait til you are ready your child will come out okay. If you hold your own, if you don’t over react or freak out when something goes wrong. They will be okay, they will learn on there own what they need to. You need to be there. And that’s pretty much it. Be there, listen. Understand. And they won’t feel threatened, they won’t go against you. Eventually every child finds rebellion, and I know I plan on handling it as calm as I can. We all make mistakes, don’t let your kids be one of yours. Be the parent, and be their everything.
I will raise my kids to know right from wrong, and morals, and manners, and I assume they’ll come out a bit like me. And maybe better. And hopefully go through different experiences that keep them happy and healthy.
I will not have a “16 and pregnant.” Thank you. But I will actually talk to my kids about sex, clearly where my parents went wrong. Did you ever have a sex talk? Because I didn’t, besides at school.
I hear the ticking loud and clear, and its only getting louder. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.