He seemed so pure!
I wish I could recreate the sound I made.
I've volunteered to pay for a kid's preschool, on a low-income scale (yeah, it's cheating. But they may be fucked otherwise.) And it's still appalling. My brother and SIL get insane good rates because she's an employee and it's Alabama. When I hear or read the going rates, I can't imagine how single parents, or even dual income parents, manage it. One of my friend's salary basically goes to childcare. (at the same time, I know what childcare providers do- and sometimes wish that could be my job, but can't afford it- and don't begrudge that. It's a no-win. )
ION, I'm tempted to curse all my female monkey ancestry who didn't get eaten by lions when they were cramping and sweating and overheating and pukey and generally feeling like shit. WHY did this evolutionary trait get passed down, damnit? NOT USEFUL. NO BIOLOGICAL ADVANTAGE!
I alternately feel saintly and then all
WTF have I done
about it. Not about the $. About...I don't know. It's just weird.
NOT USEFUL. NO BIOLOGICAL ADVANTAGE!
Yeah, but if you just stayed pregnant as much as possible, passing those genes down to future generations, you wouldn't be suffering like that. You would be suffering in entirely different ways.
daycare around here is so expensive that was cheaper for my friend, the government lawyer, to stay home with their second kid.
No biological advantage indeed. My pain wiring is all kinds of fucked up with the migraines and the crazy meds. It's made periods a strange adventure in uselesness.
I alternately feel saintly and then all WTF have I done
Sara, you're so sara. And a doll.
I'm so Mission: Impossible confused. They're overlapping Jim Phelps and Rollin Hands and audio cassette tapes with reel to reel and auto-destruct tapes with "in the usual manner." I'm very out of flow with the seasons.
Laga linked to the jonesy-killa Spock/Kirk Nine Inch Nails vid the other day, and I'm refascinated with it, and in love with Spock and Nimoy all over again. I wish they hadn't put in the near-subliminal flashes of gay porn, because it's cheating. The tension is so strong they're not needed.
If I was married, I would certainly work part-time and take mac out of afterschool. I appreciate the socialization he gets there, but I could set up weekly playdates, even alternating ones to give each parent a break.
Still my place is cheaper than most and they do a great job with homework and exposing the kids to music, drama, yoga,..
you're so sara. And a doll.
I just feel confused, torn and lacking. I want to fix so much, and yet don't know when my fixings are needed or necessary or what. So I fire at the dartboard. If that make me whatever, I guess I can accept that.
Life's a helluva lot more confusing once you are actually considered a grownup.
And now I'm going to nibble on some hummus.
I wish I had humus to nibble on. I have soy crisps (almost typed soy crips which I am not quite sure what those would be) and I went to an hour long yoga class. It was like bite sized yoga.
Bed time today was especially fraught and bad. Noah cried for 10 minutes. There were no tears. But very very very angry yells.
I wish I had humus to nibble on.
Lord, I hope you mean hummus.
