I know, I know. Yet another Florence + the Machine post.
But seriously....this gal is amazing.
My boy builds coffins and I think it's a shame
That when each one's been made, he can't see it again
He crafts every one with love and with care
Then it's thrown in the ground and it just isn't fair
My boy builds coffins he makes them all day
But it's not just for work and it isn't for play
He's made one for himself
One for me too
One of these days he'll make one for you
Do yourself a favor and spend some time this weekend listening to this band - you can thank me Monday morning.
Sep 17, 2010
Sep 16, 2010
I'll be missing you...
As if you couldn't tell already, my blogging has really slowed down a lot lately. And it's kind of depressing me.
And then it depresses me more for even allowing myself to get depressed about blogging. Don't get me wrong, I love my blog - but isn't that such a stupid thing to worry about? We've got starving kids, poverty, natural disasters, and a million other worrisome things to trouble ourselves with - whining about blogging shouldn't be anywhere near the top of my list of "Things to Freak Out About Daily".
But I'm used to having extra spare time to blog daily - and it does freak me out a little to feel this disconnect growing between myself and the online community I love. It's not just my blog I miss, but your blogs. And Twitter. And all the other million little things I love to do online. We're living in a technological society, and it's hard to distance yourself from all the things you're used to whether it's voluntary or by force.
But this is my life - these are the things I want to accomplish. And I know this time next year, I'll be prepping myself for graduation with a smile on my face, knowing that I got there by the time and effort I put into it. And as much as I love your blogs, they won't get me my college degree. They won't do my dishes. They won't spend time with my SidMo. I have to do these things myself, while I'm away from the computer. While I'm away from blogging.
So just know I miss you. And I do try and read your blogs and tweets every chance I get. It's not often, and sometimes I fall way behind. But I'm here, doing my best to balance it all and keep my name out there for you all to see and read. This blog will always be here, I hope (the mere thought of leaving it all together makes me literally tear up) and so even though the posts may be few and far between, I'm still here.
And I hope you're still there, too.
And then it depresses me more for even allowing myself to get depressed about blogging. Don't get me wrong, I love my blog - but isn't that such a stupid thing to worry about? We've got starving kids, poverty, natural disasters, and a million other worrisome things to trouble ourselves with - whining about blogging shouldn't be anywhere near the top of my list of "Things to Freak Out About Daily".
But I'm used to having extra spare time to blog daily - and it does freak me out a little to feel this disconnect growing between myself and the online community I love. It's not just my blog I miss, but your blogs. And Twitter. And all the other million little things I love to do online. We're living in a technological society, and it's hard to distance yourself from all the things you're used to whether it's voluntary or by force.
But this is my life - these are the things I want to accomplish. And I know this time next year, I'll be prepping myself for graduation with a smile on my face, knowing that I got there by the time and effort I put into it. And as much as I love your blogs, they won't get me my college degree. They won't do my dishes. They won't spend time with my SidMo. I have to do these things myself, while I'm away from the computer. While I'm away from blogging.
So just know I miss you. And I do try and read your blogs and tweets every chance I get. It's not often, and sometimes I fall way behind. But I'm here, doing my best to balance it all and keep my name out there for you all to see and read. This blog will always be here, I hope (the mere thought of leaving it all together makes me literally tear up) and so even though the posts may be few and far between, I'm still here.
And I hope you're still there, too.
Sep 8, 2010
the great hair debate
I am not a confrontational person. I don't like to fight or bicker or argue for any crazy reason. When I get mad, I ususally deflect - keep my cool and keep it to myself. I'm not good at winning arguments and I rarely hold the upper hand in a debate. So I just remain quiet and let the other person do all the talking.
Most of the time.
Sometimes, I'm loud and obnoxious and the biggest hot button-pusher you ever met. I can slice and dice with my words and just cut you like a knife. It's a skill, one I like to think I inherited from my mom. She should've/could've been a lawyer with her fighting skills.
Honestly, I'm not joking - I can be mad at her for something, anything. I start to argue with her, and by the time we're done, I'm apologizing for something I probably didn't even do and she's the one who's mad at me. And it makes no sense in my head - I'm like, how the hell did that happen?
And I think it's safe to say, dear little SidMo has inherited the gene. Just last night I was talking to her about cutting her hair (it's gone by the way, completely chopped off) and our conversation went a little like this:
Me: Sidney, I want to cut your hair.
Her: No.
Me: But it'll be cooler and easier to take care of.
Her: No.
Me: I'm cutting your hair.
Her: I'm not saying yes.
Me: I don't care what you say, I'm cutting your hair.
Her: But I'm not saying yes.
Me: Sidney, you're getting your hair cut. Tonight. Right now.
Her: No. I didn't say yes.
Conversations and debates with a three year old. At least these are the kind of arguments I can still win.....for now.
*I'll try to post some pictures of her new haircut tomorrow - my camera battery was dead as a doorknob last night, and I forgot my cellphone at home - so no pictures either way today!*
Most of the time.
Sometimes, I'm loud and obnoxious and the biggest hot button-pusher you ever met. I can slice and dice with my words and just cut you like a knife. It's a skill, one I like to think I inherited from my mom. She should've/could've been a lawyer with her fighting skills.
Honestly, I'm not joking - I can be mad at her for something, anything. I start to argue with her, and by the time we're done, I'm apologizing for something I probably didn't even do and she's the one who's mad at me. And it makes no sense in my head - I'm like, how the hell did that happen?
And I think it's safe to say, dear little SidMo has inherited the gene. Just last night I was talking to her about cutting her hair (it's gone by the way, completely chopped off) and our conversation went a little like this:
Me: Sidney, I want to cut your hair.
Her: No.
Me: But it'll be cooler and easier to take care of.
Her: No.
Me: I'm cutting your hair.
Her: I'm not saying yes.
Me: I don't care what you say, I'm cutting your hair.
Her: But I'm not saying yes.
Me: Sidney, you're getting your hair cut. Tonight. Right now.
Her: No. I didn't say yes.
Conversations and debates with a three year old. At least these are the kind of arguments I can still win.....for now.
*I'll try to post some pictures of her new haircut tomorrow - my camera battery was dead as a doorknob last night, and I forgot my cellphone at home - so no pictures either way today!*
Sep 5, 2010
happy birthday, Sidney Morgan
She's three - we survived the terrible two's somehow. And now we're three. It still seems surreal. It's going to take me a few days to say I have a "three year old" at home. Will it always be like this? Will each year get more unbelievable, until I'm standing there on her 18th birthday saying "where did time go"? Trust me, I already know the answer is a big, huge, resounding HELL YES. If these three years can fly by so quickly, I know the next fifteen will, too.
And it's sad. And bittersweet. And a little exciting. Every day with her is new and fun and I'm doing my best to be "in the moment" with her and love her for the little the person she is and continues to grow to be. Sweet jesus, I'm the mother of a three year old.
 |
| 2009 |
Yesterday she was only two...
 |
| 2010 |
...and today she's finally three.
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