Today is one of those days when you’re sure you’re about to start your period but you look at the calendar and know that blessed event won’t be happening for quite a while so there’s really no excuse for your bitchiness other than your meds aren’t working.
I don’t want for my meds to not be working.
I’ve been in this “safe place” for a while where I’ve know everything isn’t working right but didn’t want to change anything.
Man…that applies to so much right now, right? Bastardized inertia up in the house!
I have an appointment next month with a new shrink. Maybe he’ll know what to do with me? I’m at a loss.
Biking Around the Neighborhood and Butt Jokes
We took the kids around the neighborhood tonight.
Tucker and I switched off on who was responsible for which child; sometimes he pushed Ollie up a hill and sometimes he pushed Cara. It was only a mile but we’ve got some big ass hills in our subdivision and both kids still have training wheels on their bikes. I suspect Tucker ended up with the better rider since Ollie didn’t stop pedaling the whole damn time.
We were all soaked in sweat by the time we finally made it home.
And my gluteus medius hurt like a bitch by the time we were done. Feel free to Google that; I took way too much anatomy and such in college so I was able to just pull that one out of my ass and know what I was talking about. FYI, your gluteus medius isn’t technically your ASS but that last sentence still made me giggle.
The Aurora Shooting
I had no intention of writing about the shooting. None. Whatsoever. I had removed myself from the whole, horrible event as much as I could. I worked with After Effects all day and the kids played their video game and we checked on the garden and I ate the FIRST TOMATO from the garden.
But, after the long walk today, we got in pretty late–for us–and once food was fed and baths were had, it was time for bed. Tucker wanted to read to the kids but with all three of them in Ollie’s bed, I got the foot of Oliver’s bed and still hadn’t finished my dinner.
I should have just stayed at the very end of the bed.
I should have never turned on the local news.
The pictures of people in the UTTER THROWS OF GRIEF. I would be so unbelievably pissed if a photographer invaded into that moment and proceeded to sell it to whoever had the cash to buy the shot.
I couldn’t stop watching. Tears streaming down my face. Relieved I had kept the kids from hearing anything about the shootings.
I kept thinking back to when Alana and I went to see New Moon on opening night and the shittastic time we had and how someone could have so easily come in and done exactly what was done to the people of Aurora. What should I do in that situation? Do I play dead? Do I play the hero and try to take down the shooter? Do I not move a muscle? What the FUCK does someone do when they’re in that situation?
And then there are all the people who are so damn quick to place the blame on the parents in the audience who brought their kids.
Do I think Dark Knight Rises–rated PG/13–is appropriate for a little kids, no…probably not. HOWEVER, I’m sure a lot the games we play with our kids around would make more than a few eyebrows lift. And would I have taken Cara to a late night movie when she was three months old? I never had a chance. That child never slept unless she was on my boob so I suspect she would have slept through the whole damn movie. Unless someone started shooting FUCKING BULLETS.
You maybe not agree with some of these peoples’ parenting decisions but none deserved what happened.
I’ve seen it all day. “If they hadn’t had their kids out so late…” or “Who takes a little kid to that kind of movie?” and “What kind of parent would have a baby out that late?”
Does it REALLY MATTER NOW?
People are dead.
Families are forever broken.
Don’t you think THAT is enough punishment for whatever transgression you’ve perceived?
Do you honestly think these people, families, parents haven’t thought this a MILLION, a BILLION times so far? How many times do you think some of those thoughts will go through their heads? Will that be enough for you? Will they have, after spending every day without someone they love, atoned enough for you?
This reeks of the woman who was raped because she dared wear a skirt just a bit too short or a top that drooped just a bit too low.
Intermittent New Category–Diary
We’ll see how long this lasts but my plan is to write every night. Usually this time is devoted to reading out on the porch once the kids have finally passed out. Maybe for the next few days or months or whatever, I’ll post something.
Don’t hold your breath.
To the end of this day: