Mumsaid

Today I went to a well-known day spa in our fair city and had an aloe and herb body wrap.  I was scared, ashamed, scared, unsure, curious, excited, scared...you get the point. You may be wondering, "What's the big deal?  Why is Pattermomma so damn scared?"  Well... Two children and various stages of using food or the control of food as medicine have left my body in not the most attractive of states. I am the heaviest I have ever been (maybe...I think I might have dropped a couple pounds this summer), and had my youngest in November.  It takes some of us mommas a little longer than others to return to what is now the New Normal.  My belly is floppy, my breasts are suffering from gravity, and what the hell happened to my ass and thighs?  Since when did I start looking like...a Mother? I often thank the Fates that I am no longer the naive youngun' I was in my early twenties, but I also curse those same Fates for removing the physical perfection along with the n

Patterbaby was born November 3, 2010.  She is beautiful and perfect and healthy.  Everyone thinks she is so wonderful.  She is.  Everyone thinks GreenWarrior is the Best Big Brother Ever.  He is.  (My own personal Big Brother holds that title as well, but seriously?  GreenWarrior has helped us SURVIVE at times.  That necessitates the passing on of the title, doesn't it?)  I have fought the Darkness rather valiantly, I believe, and to most Outsiders (Dear Friends included) I am flourishing.  Doing Great.  Fantastic. But sometimes it's all I can do just to get up. Sometimes I am pretty damn proud of myself when I just Keep Going.

Post published 16 February 2010 on Patterville: Some weeks ago, when I was feeling antisocial, I went to UCity BreadCo for church.  I took my laptop with me, hoping to wax poetic about my battle with depression.  What I wrote was quite eloquent, I thought, and helped to soothe the demons raging within.  I went to save, and the Internet Nazis at said BreadCo had kicked me off without any warning.  All work was sucked into a black hole, never to be seen again.  I dug myself further into my Personal Pit of Despair as a result and have not written since.   I intended for this blog to have a lot more entries, and to be much more interesting.  Upon review, I have found it to be a rather accurate portrayal of what I do when I am depressed: nothing. I want nothing I feel like nothing I like nothing nothing nothing nothing. It is akin to a large corporation's hostile takeover on the Little Guy, only more oppressive.  I am currently on a Long Climb towards the rim of my Pit, hoping

Post published on 3 January 2010 on Patterville: Today is the last day of my maternity leave.  Tomorrow is the beginning of second semester.  Feelings include: guilt, fear, apprehension, fear, worry, fear, guilt, a crushing sensation in my chest, fear, guilt, and sadness.  You get the picture.  I leave my baby in the capable hands of a babysitter, and then rush off to serve the social and political democracy in which I live.  Or something like that.   What I really want to do is cry. I am taking steps forward to do what I really want to do when I grow up, yet somehow I still feel stagnant.  The Whaddifs and Youllnevers come in and take over.  They drag my lifeless carcass to the Doldrums.  I put up a fight, but sometimes it's just not Enough.  Sometimes I need to fight harder.  And sometimes I just don't care.   I think I'll listen to the rain and snuggle my baby.  I can't teach with puffy eyes.