Parenting

Finally! It’s time to reveal Landon’s bedroom. It only took, oh, three months. Hey, at least it’s done! Like I told you I am not a designer. But this room has my heart in it. When we visited this house before it was even ours he told us he wanted a “planet” room. He loves the solar system. Far be it for me to deny him what he wants. It’s his room after all, not mine.

I know it’s been awhile since we last saw each other. I was so hurt by what happened a month ago. I guess that’s why I needed some space. I came to see you before leaving for my out-of-town work meeting and I asked you for my usual. I was shocked by the hurtful words that came out of your mouth. You no longer had any corndogs for me. It wasn’t just that you didn’t have them anymore. It was the way you said it. So curt. So final. I said, “Are you kidding me?” And you said nothing.

Wish me luck, everyone! I’m headed to San Diego today for the big BlogHer conference! I gotta tell ya, I’m psyched! I can’t believe one of my blogging goals has finally been reached!

Remember how I was telling you guys that I didn’t have a sponsor? Try try again, as they say. I applied for a partial conference sponsorship courtesy of the fantastic company Invitation Consultants. And I was chosen! I swear this bloggin’ gig just keeps getting better and better!

I am delighted to welcome Carla of Mini Munchers for today’s Travel Bug Tuesday!

A ten-year resident of Manhattan, Carla Sullivan is the founder and “Mommy Muncher” of the internet’s only source of kid-friendly restaurants in New York City, Mini Munchers! Seriously, if you are a parent living in or around NYC or you plan on going there with your kids you must check out this website! Why can’t we have a website like this for every city? I would ask Carla to do that for us but she just had baby #3 so I think we’ll give her some time to work on that little project first, don’t ya think? But I think what she has done with her site is pure awesome & I’m so glad she is here to share it with my readers!

You remember that feeling. The feeling of standing in line for a roller coaster with your friends. You inch closer to the front of the line, you know, where they break you up and decide whether you’ll be at the back, the middle or ::cue scary music:: DUH DUH DUH, the very front car?

Then out of the corner of your eye you spot the chicken exit. Every logical cell in your brain tells you that being shot to the ground at a speed which makes your stomach churn your lunch is probably not the best idea. But your friends aren’t flinching. You don’t want to be the only loser who decided not to ride. So you do it anyway. Against your better judgment. And then you chuck your lunch the cotton candy and corn dog you thought was a grand idea about a half hour before you decided to ride this monstrosity

Please read Part I, Part II and Part III before continuing . . .

I graduated from college in December 2001. No one was hiring in the aftermath of the 9/11 tragedy and therefore I moved back in with my parents as I had nowhere else to go. It’s a strange thing to live independently for four years and suddenly be thrust back into living like you did when you were a teenager. But I was thankful for gracious parents who understood there was no way for me to pay rent if I didn’t have a job.

Please read Part I and Part II before continuing with Part III.

I am ashamed to admit that I did not stay in the psychiatric hospital that night. Did I belong there? Absolutely. But I did not stay. I barely remember going up the elevator. I can scarcely recall anything about the experience at all. As with other terrifying experiences I think my brain shut down to protect me from these memories. But I know was when I was shown my room, a shared room, I was suddenly resolved to get the fuck out of there. I could not let my parents leave me there. I didn’t belong there. I was not crazy. These other people that I saw walking the halls. They were crazy. But not me. No, not me. How did I end up here?

***No matter how dark the night, ******the star of Christmas shines on, ******undimmed by human despair. ******May that same star ***fill your heart with light.

Moravian Hymn

I was so busy this week at work. Trucking along just waiting for Thursday. My last day at work before my holiday celebration could begin. I didn’t want any extra work. I didn’t want to stay late. I only wanted to come in, do my job and get home to my boys. Keep it simple.

*Please read Part I: On the Edge before continuing. *

The same thing happens every year at the beginning of August. I see girls walking around in stores with their moms. Picking out sheet sets and mini fridges and wall decor. The girls always have big smiles on their faces. Eyes wide open, as if a particular coffee pot will mean the difference between success and failure in their first year of college.

I have thought of how to write out these memories time and again. Gone back and forth about why I should or shouldn’t write them. Why I should or shouldn’t post them for the world to see. Because I have no idea who will read it. And I have no control over what they will think. But I guess, after all these years, I finally feel ready. I’m ready to talk about the most painful memories of my life.

I grew up in a house filled with music. My dad has been a high school band director for more than 40 years. When I was young he always conducted the pit orchestra for the musicals put on by community theater. I think this is where my love obsession of musicals came from. Grease, Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera. I’m not picky. As long as there are real people standing on a stage singing and I’m watching them I’m pretty darn happy. By the way, did you know my pug Roxie is named after the main character in Chicago? I just spelled it differently to throw people off. Yep, I’m obsessed.