this might be a temporary post

Mere hours after emailing someone about how I secretly love the hatemail I get because it

1. means you are reading

and b. means I’m being honest here and no one in our current America loves honest

and I included the fact that I

a. don’t drink nearly as much as I allude to here

and 2. am not doing anyone’s mom despite the yourmom jokes…

…I find myself accidently drunk because I made a phone call and cancelled a work appointment and sorta kinda poured myself a giant glass of bourban because it’s been a long week and I really needed it and I probably should revamp my timekeeper at work since I’m admitting this here and I know I have some workreaders. I think daydrinking falls under “personal” time but I’m sure I’ve used all mine up so this might have to be a “vacation” few hours. I even turned my ringer off because I thought I needed some alone time to deal with all the garbage I am dealing with because the City (capital C) is cutting funding to preventative services which are pretty important in my opinion and the call I got from the doctor was a bit more disturbing than my nonboozy mind will let on to.

Well, and, yeah, so I’ll admit it halfaglass in that it turns out this blog thing I’m keeping is kinda catching on. It’s reaching further than my friends (my family pretty much gave up long ago) and my littlebig town and it almost (don’t want to jinx it) seems like you like me, you reallyreally like me and the more I write about the stuff that is filed away under dysfunction the more I feel better about things and the more you tell your friends about this site and I’m getting loveya mails instead of blog trolls who tell me that I don’t deserve my son and that I’m a terrible mom because sometimes I admit to wanting sleep in over coloring in poorly drawn Sesame Street books or something equally as evil.

So I’m going to stop editing this to fit the nice little genre of “mommyblog”and start making this “my blog”, which is what I intended to do in the first place but I was too afraid that you might think I’m a little brash or obscene or unfit or whatever.

Um. Welcome.

This is pressureful.

And sobering, which is good because I have to pick up the boy soon.

And flattering, which is nice.

And not that it really matters in the long run, I guess, what you think of me. But the more I am lauded here the more confidence I have in the real world that maybejustmaybe I am capable of doing something bigger than what I am doing now.

Deep breath.

Getting older is good, but getting wiser is amazing.


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