True Colours

Let the shit show begin.

More and more is happening every day and it never stops breaking my heart. 

Yesterday my husband put a block on my phone. I couldn’t text, phone call, internet. I don’t understand why he did it, either since that means he’ll have to call my parents house phone, which he hasn’t done yet. 

Luckily my mom took me to the store and set me up under her account with a new phone number. He’s trying to control me. To intimidate me into moving back in. 

I went to see a counselor today. It was supposed to be the counselor for the kids, but he told me that since I already have the trust and rapport with my kids, he will counsel them through me. 

He asked a lot about the relationship of me and my husband. He said it’s best not to add fuel to the fire, and to look at what I’m doing that might fuel it, so that I can take a step back. 

You could tell he’s seen this kind of thing before, where one parent lashes out because they’re angry. 

Earlier today, when I went to pick up our son, my mother was with me and we didn’t even look at each other. I picked up the cat too, which broke my heart. We’re giving her to someone who can look after her for now. 

I mentioned to my husband that I would be finding arrangements for the dog, but I needed a couple of days. He said, “it better be quick.” My mother was horrified. 

My mother stepped out of the house with our son, and he looked at me and asked, “do you really want to go through with all of this?” 

I told him that I was willing, but he wasn’t willing to give me the time. “Besides, I’ve seen your true colours, and I don’t like them very much.” 

“Fine.”

I’m going to see a lawyer tomorrow. 

After the appointment, I realized I hadn’t really eaten much today, so I went to my favourite shawarma place. I was the only one there, besides the guys that work there. I sat at the back feeling like the loneliest person in the world. I left when I started to tear up. 

I decided to pick up the girls from school early, so I could talk with their bus driver. He’s a really nice guy, and he’s been through the ringer himself, and has been a really good listener. On the way to the school, I tried to force myself to listen to a sad song that I really love. Halo, by Beyonce. I broke down and started weeping in the car. I held out until the song was over half over, though, so go me. 

I’m so sad. All he wants to do is talk, and all I want to do is wait until we can see a counselor. I’m so tired of fighting, of being cut down by him. My soul hurts. He’s my best friend and I don’t trust him not to hurt me. 

He called my mother’s house twice today while I was out, but my mother didn’t answer. I called him back to see what’s going on. 

“So this is it? You won’t even talk to me? We can’t hang out? We can’t even talk?” 

I honestly didn’t know what to say.

“You know you’re holding all the cards, there’s nothing I can do, I’m squirming because you’re giving me nothing, and you’re alright with that?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess I’m seeing your true colours.”

There was nothing left to say. I know he’s hurting, but damnit, so am I. I’m giving him nothing because I have nothing left to give. He’s stripped it away.

Part of me wants to talk to him, but the other part of me is too scared.

I don’t even know what to do anymore. I’m so hurt. And I know he’s so hurt. We’re both hurting and neither of us knows how to fix this. I don’t think I even want to fix this anymore.

I’m so tired. 

 

 

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The Bottom Line: Revised

Things seem to be degenerating pretty quickly. 

My husband asked me when I planned on coming home. I told him that when I felt safe, I would come home.

“Well how long will that be?”

“I don’t know, but it will be a while,”

“How long is a while? Because I won’t wait forever.”

“I’m not asking you to wait forever. I’m asking you to wait until I feel like I’ll be safe, when I know we won’t fall back into the same cycle again,”

“When will that be?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just give me a time,”

“…end of April.”

“I won’t wait that long. I deserve better than having to wait for you, for waiting for someone who always makes me wait.”

We talked a few more times during the day, but it essentially boiled down to me telling him I wasn’t coming back until I felt safe from the way he hurts me, him asking, “what about the ways you hurt me?” and finally him telling me that he would be contacting a lawyer to pursue a divorce. 

Seriously? He won’t wait until the end of April? He’s never been a patient person, but this is ridiculous. If this could be the life-line that could save our marriage, he’d rather have a divorce? What nonsense. 

I was supposed to bring the kids over tonight for them to sleepover. He has tomorrow off and I figured this would be a good time for him to spend some quality time with the kids. He got annoyed with me because he thought I was going to be there for dinner (due to the argument we had last night, and again this morning, I decided I didn’t need to put myself in a position where I needed to stay for dinner.) It escalated into him telling me not to bother bringing the kids at all because he wanted to be left alone. 

“Please don’t do this to the kids,” I begged him.

“I’m not doing this to the kids, you’re doing this to the kids.”

I honestly didn’t even know what to say. He seems to be more upset that I’m not at the house than anything else. I still don’t think he realizes that his actions and behaviour towards me forced me to leave to preserve myself.

If I ever found out my son was treating someone the way his father treats me, I would be horrified. If I ever found out someone was treating either of my little girls the way he treats me, I would kill them. 

I will not have my kids growing up thinking that it’s ok to treat people like this. It’s not. I’m not even sure that I can identify what it was in me that  snapped, but some part of me is refusing to be put through this anymore and I’m holding on for dear life. 

This conversation left me with such guilt. What was I supposed to tell the kids? “Daddy and I had a fight about you guys and now he doesn’t want to see you.” 

Yeah, right. 

I felt bad, even though I know it’s not my fault. I still feel bad, and I think it’s from some misplaced sense of wanting to take care of him. He, perhaps, has given me the best advice of all: “sometimes you just have to harden your heart.” 

Thank you for the advice husband, I think I’ll take it. 

The bottom line is, I love him. I will always love him. I tried to give him the chance to help fix this, but he prefers to lay all the blame at my feet for leaving, without taking into consideration the reason behind why I left. He hurt me so badly that I felt leaving him was the best option. He’s mad and petty. 

So be it. If he wants to be a selfish baby, let him. I’m tired of dealing with it. 

Let’s see what tomorrow brings. 

 

 

The Bottom Line

I always ask the Universe for guidance. I always say, “Universe, I need some guidance, please send me a sign.”

Tonight, as I drove back to my mother’s place after seeing my husband, “don’t give up, you are loved,” was on the radio. Josh Groban singing one of my favourite songs just happened to be on the radio, at the EXACT spot where he sings out, “don’t give up.” Well, obviously I have my answer.

Two days ago I left my husband. I took the kids and moved to my mom’s. His anger and name-calling had (has?)  finally taken it’s toll and to preserve myself, I left.

It’s been two days of stress and heightened emotions, and many, many tears. He has been mostly cruel and mean, telling me to ‘get off my property!’ when I showed up with the kids to pick up a few things yesterday.

Today we had an appointment to get our taxes done together. I thought it was going to be strained and awkward. It was actually one of the nicest times we’ve spent together. We talked about the shows we watch, the kids, our parents. Finally we talked about us.

He held my hand to his heart and told me there’s no one else that he would rather be with. He told me that I’m his best friend and that he can’t imagine what it would be like to lose his best friend. It took all I had not to start sobbing at the accountant’s office. We agreed that we love each other and we want to work on this. I told him I wanted to stay at my mom’s for now, so we don’t rush back into the exact same situation.

We got our taxes done, then went and had some lunch. We went back to the house and talked some more. We discussed the issue(s); him calling me names. He knows it’s wrong of him, he knows (and admitted) that it’s abhorrent. He told me he would stop. We talked about how I have such a broad vision, I don’t care about being late (I try not to be, but don’t get stressed or hung up on it if I am), I don’t care if I forget something at the grocery store, to me it’s not big deal. For him, he has a more narrow view. He sets things up so that everything works according to his plan, and since most of the time he can’t account for me forgetting my purse, or my keys, or whatever, that pisses him off. He doesn’t know how to deal with the uncertainty I present. I don’t know how to deal with his rigidity. We need to work on these things.

The bottom line is, I love him. He loves me. We want to make this work. We just lack the tools.

He kept trying to kiss me and convince me to go upstairs with him. I wanted to, I wanted to so bad. But I just couldn’t. He kept telling me to come home, that this is our home and the kids should be in their home. I told him I needed more time. I don’t trust that he won’t say something awful to me when he gets mad.

Anyway, I went over again tonight, after I put the kids to bed, to offer him a way to deal with this.

I told him that I plan on staying at my mom’s for a while, but that we’ll have date nights. We’ll start over, from the beginning. Also, I like the idea of going over to see my ‘boyfriend’. There’s something naughty about it that appeals to my inner deviant. I told him that and it made him laugh.

I also told him that I wanted him to go and see his counselor and tell her exactly what he’s said to me, how he deals with his anger so that she can give him some tools that he needs to deal with his anger, so he stops calling me names be getting mean. I told him I would be willing to see someone too, to work on whatever issues he thinks I should work on. He told me that his counselor mentioned inviting me to a session or two, and I asked him to make an appointment tomorrow for his next day off. He agreed.

It’s hard because I was ready to leave him. I was ready to go see a lawyer and finally end it. I’ve been so devestated by the way he treats me. I told him that he didn’t respect me, that he’s never respected me, and his answer? “What have you ever done that warrants my respect?” His words are so cruel and disrespectful. I’m so cautious about moving back in.

He’s not happy about us not moving back. But he’ll put up with it to make us work. He tried to initiate sex again, as I was leaving. I told him I wanted to wait. He hates anticipation. He was mopey about it. I called him on it, and he told me he would never be anything but honest and that right now he’s really sad and mopey because he really wants to make love to his wife.

I can’t believe I actually said no, and walked away. I was debating on whether or not I made the right choice, leaving without having sex with him. That’s when Josh Groban serenaded me to not give up. So I’m not. I won’t give up on him, on us. He wants to be better, and I want us to be better. I must be the biggest sap in the world.

When we’re good, we are so good for each other. When we’re not, we’re toxic to each other. It sucks. But I can’t fault him for admitting that he’s wrong to call me names and that he wants to stop. That he will stop and that he will seek help to change. I want to make sure he’s well on his way to making those changes before I agree to move back in. I love him so much. It kills me to see him hurt from this, even though he’s hurt me beyond comprehension.

I have an incredibly huge capacity for forgiveness, much to my detriment sometimes, perhaps.

Being apart from him hurts my heart. Knowing that he’s all alone in the house that is our home without all the life in it makes my heart hurt for him. I want to hold him close, hug him, and tell him it’ll all be fine. But this time it isn’t. At least not yet. I have my hopes up though.

How can I say no to him when he admits he’s wrong and is willing to make the changes that will make him a better person? That will enable him to treat me better?

Now, if we can just get him to stop being such a man-child, he’d be perfect!

 

 

Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness

He doesn’t even look at me anymore. I always have to be the one to get his attention, try and get him to look me in the eye. It’s really sad. I ask him too many times a night if he’s mad at me. He’s not. He never is. It’s just him, getting further and further away from me.

I stood up from the couch and my robe fell open. I tried to catch his eye but he just stood there, staring down at a kid’s movie that was left on the coffee table, “I used to watch that all the time when I was a kid!” he said, while I’m staring pointedly at him and he’s staring pointedly down at the movie. When he finally looked up and saw me staring at him, devouring him with my eyes, he just looked at me, “what?”

Really? You say, “what?” when your wife is standing there with her tits hanging out of her robe? You just stand there and simply can’t imagine a night where we stray from the television and possibly have sex. It’s not like it lasts long enough to interrupt the shows anyway.

They always say that sex is the first thing to go. I told him not too long ago that if it were up to me, I’d have sex nearly every day. He just shrugged, and returned his attention back to the book he was reading.

I’m really sad and I’m really tired. I kept wondering what I was doing wrong, what it was that I’m doing that would bother him so much. Tonight, I finally realized it’s not me. It has nothing to do with me. It’s him. He’s depressed, filled with anxiety (that I simply cannot understand), he’s the one that is pulling away. He’s reassured me that everything is fine, he’s fine. Everything is just fine and fucking dandy. That’s why when we went to bed tonight he didn’t even ask me if I was coming upstairs. (I was waiting for the laundry to finish.)

When I came upstairs he didn’t even look in my direction. He went into the bathroom to get a drink of water and I looked up, like a hopeful puppy and tears in my eyes, and he didn’t even glance in my direction as he came back to the bed. He took a sip of water, flopped down on the bed, and continued reading. Now, I’ll give credit where credit is due, and he’s reading the third instalment of the Hunger Games, which was an incredible series. But not incredible enough to completely ignore your spouse.

I’ve tried talking to him, but t’s hard to talk to a wall. I ask him to talk to me, put the book down, look at me. He won’t.

I paused one of our shows tonight to ask him what he would do in that character’s situation. There’s so many things going through my head, so many things I’m bursting to say,  about the characters, the situations, the impossibility of it all. “I don’t want to talk right now, just press play.” Fine.

I have thousands of things going through my head all the time, I’m filled with ideas, projects, lives I want to live, or pretend to live, and I can’t say a goddam word about it to him. This man that I’m supposed to be able to share all my secrets with, the man who used to be my best friend but who now seems like a stranger.

Who is this man? He’s definitely not the man I married. He has gone sour with age, instead of becoming bolder.

How many times can I be ignored before I finally say enough is enough?

I have to get this business plan finished. I have to construct my escape from this slow, painful death.

We’re supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to be able to tell each other everything, all of our hopes, all of our dreams. Instead, I’m ignored for the sad, twisted lives of strangers on the television. I could give a fuck if I never watched those shows again (although I enjoy them) if it meant I could spend some real time with my husband.

I feel like I’m a beautiful, rare, sparkling gem that he picked up and said, “wow, look at this pretty rock.” In the right hands, I could be polished and gleam and be appreciated for my rarity. Instead, I sit on the shelf collecting dust.

 

Plough This

I miss writing. Spilling my guts, spewing my words into the blogosphere. Even if they are mundane and self-serving.

Things with my husband are good…for now. He told me this past week, in the heat of a fight, that I was an awful mother. I’ve never been so close to killing someone before. Instead I took off my wedding ring and handed it to him. I informed him I was done with him, done with his bullshit. Blah, blah, blah. We talked a bunch, ignored each other, talked some more, and finally made up. He said he was sorry and I asked him, fearfully, if he really thought I was an awful mother. He admitted that no, I wasn’t an awful mother, and that he’s seen some pretty shitty mom’s and that I’m a really good mom. It still is beyond reprehensible that he said that to me, even in the heat of an argument.

There’s a rift between us that I feel is getting bigger. And I’m caring less and less. Let the chasm open up and swallow him for all I care. He’s constantly tired and mopey and everything is such a big deal. He has anxiety and depression but refuses to be treated for it. He refuses to take medication but he won’t do anything else, like get exercise.

It’s annoying.

Alas, I don’t want to discuss only the sad things going on.

Right now I’m writing a business plan to start my own farm. Everyone I mention this to goes on about how expensive it is to run a farm, and how much work it is. To them I say, only if you’re doing it conventionally.

After reading a few books by Joel Salatin, and Grass-Fed Cattle by Julius Ruechel, I can see a lot of the flaws of modern day agriculture and things that I plan on doing differently. I, by no means, think that this will be easy, but I also don’t think it will be as much work as a lot people think. There will be no ploughing of fields, no tilling, no machine harvesting. It will be more natural and I know it can be done because there are tons of farmers doing it this way and I know I can do it to. I guess it also depends on what you consider work. I consider sitting in an office cubicle punching in keys on a computer all day work. I consider selling crap (retail) work. It’s tedious and boring and I hate having to ‘work’. But being a steward of the land, caring for animals (ensuring they have healthy, free, lives) and harvesting from the land to feed my family is not something I would consider ‘work’. I consider that living.

I imagine waking up every morning to greet the animals in my charge, moving them to new pastures, watching how they move, how they care for their young, how they live. I imagine interacting with them, petting them, working with them instead of against them. I imagine growing, harvesting, and storing food for my family and for the growing market that exists for people that want clean, local food. I imagine how much simpler things could be while working with the seasons.

I don’t, for one second, pretend that it will be as easy as all this. I know there will be long days, and hardships, and definitely the thought of castrating bulls makes me queasy, but I feel like this kind of a life is closer to the way people could/should live. I would rather live this kind of a life than one where I’m trapped in a shitty retail job, or stuck in a cubicle pushing papers for a living. What kind of a ‘living’ is that?

This is it, this is my dream.

 

Mixed Messages

I’ve managed to piss my mother off…again. Last Saturday she had a party and invited us all to come over to her place. My in-laws were invited and all was lovely. Just after supper the in-laws left and then the real party started. We were drinking and my mom had decided that day that she was no longer going to smoke pot.

This made my insides quiver because she has a seriously terrible temper and it’s only kept in check by her smoking pot. I remember when she quit smoking cigarettes how bad it was.

My brother’s friends came over to party with us and all I could think was here are these fucking 25-year-old guys who are slaving away at pizza delivery jobs, living at home almost rent free and they’re doing fuck all with their lives. I told them as much and we got into this big discussion about it. I thought it was fun. MadEye was there and she seemed to be having fun. My mom seemed to be having fun too. Eventually they leave and we start talking about other things, reminiscing and whatever, and I throw out that one of the few times my parents had gone on a trip and were out of town, I had sex in their bed. I was laughing because I thought it was funny.

That’s when things got real bad. My mom started going on about how that’s such a slap in the face, it’s so disrespectful, it’s the ultimate of disrespect, she wishes I had never told her.

“Seriously, mom? That was over 10 years ago.”

“I don’t care!”

She went on and on about how disgusting it was and now she felt like ripping up her covers and stabbing her mattress and then lighting it on fire. I’m couldn’t even exaggerate this if I tried, she actually said all this shit. I was like, ‘it’s not even the same bed that you had when I was in high school,” and she again told me she didn’t care.

I was too drunk to even know how to respond. I just sat there while she seethed at me and felt more and more like a kid again. Finally, when she was done ranting, she stormed off to her room. I called my husband to come and pick MadEye and I up. Party over.

The next day my brother called but I was out. I was afraid to call him back in case my mother answered. I didn’t speak to her all this week (which is saying something since I talk to her almost every day.)

When we got on the phone today, she went on again about how it’s the ultimate disrespect to have slept in their bed. For real? I’m not going to feel bad about something I did over 10 years ago. Go fuck yourself. She made me promise not to get drunk in front of her ever again. My grandmother was disgusted by me because of my swearing. My dad was mad because he told me before he never wanted to see me drunk, ever again. She told me I’m not a fun drunk and I will never be allowed to drink alcohol, not even a sip at their house. Then she told me no one was mad, everything was fine, they just want it known that I’m not to drink at their place ever again. Ok, fine. Then she goes on about how gross it was that I slept in their bed, regardless of how long ago it was.

Holy mixed messages.

I mean, she claims she’s all open and that we can talk about anything, and usually we do. I’ve told my mom things that most other people go out of their way to hide. I never know where the boundary lines are, I never have. And people wonder why I have issues with boundaries. Sweet fucking christ.

I don’t even care. So fucking what? I fucked in your bed. Whatever. Everyone’s fucked in their parents bed! It’s usually the most comfortable bed in the house! Whatever.

She also told me that I owe an apology to everyone. My grandmother for swearing, my dad for breaking my promise of him never seeing me drunk again and my brother.

Why do I have to apologize to my brother? I honestly don’t understand why issuing them life lessons needs an apology. People who don’t have kids don’t get it. My husband and I often talk about where our money would go if we didn’t have kids. We would have so much! But you’ll never know that until you have kids. It really burns my ass that these fucking guys, with so much potential, do nothing but deliver pizza and work in warehouses and do nothing else but drink and party. Assholes. Get a real fucking life. Go to school! If I could go back to school, I would, in a heartbeat. Nothing is stopping them. NOTHING. Assholes. Take advantage of what you have while you have it!

My mom told me that was mean. So fucking what? I will speak from this experience. I will tell them that they’re idiots for not doing anything with their lives. If that’s mean, then so be it. I’m a mean asshole anyway, right?

I’m just a mean, horrible, asshole and a flighty friend. What good am I to anyone, anyway?

I made dinner tonight and it wasn’t even good enough for my husband to eat. He sat there and told me he wasn’t hungry. I told him to leave the table. I had 7 leg of lamb steaks cooked from supper left over. It’s now a little past midnight and because I made him feel bad about ordering Chinese food, he decided to eat nothing instead. Fine.

What the fuck do I know. I’m just an asshole.

A Lovely Lunch

“She could have died,” was all I could think while I had lunch with my friend today. I’ve know Cranium since high school and she’s one of, if not the, oldest friend I have.

I got a text from her just before Christmas time letting me know that she was going on stress leave. I thought that was weird because she’s the only person I know that loves her job. She works with kids and I know she applied to do a master’s in early childhood education. She’s always talked about having kids, loves working with them, and often I go to her for parenting advice.

To make a long story short, she helped get a supervisor demoted, and 6 months later, that woman was given back the supervisory positon and now had an ax to grind with my friend. They had a meeting where she nitpicked a thousand little things that my friend was doing wrong. A few days later, the woman sent a pretty nasty email that ended with Cranium having an epic anxiety attack that she was hospitalized for. Blue lips, numb fingers, the works. The doctor told her she shouldn’t go back to work for a while and prescribed her an anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medication. I guess the supervisor woman felt bad, because she kept emailing Cranium, trying to provide a better or alternate arrangement. Cranium finally had to tell her to leave her alone because she actually has an anxiety disorder and doesn’t want to be stressed off while she’s on leave. When she told me this part, I wanted to go and smack  whoever put this woman back in charge of being Cranium’s supervisor. Holy conflict of interest!

Fast forward a couple of weeks. Cranium had been doing some research and decided to go to the gym to get some exercise to alleviate the depression with endorphins. She went to a spinning class and said all was well until right after the class ended, and she got hit with what they call a thunderclap headache. She told me on a scale of 1-10, 1 being no pain and 10 being the worst, she was sitting at a 25. They checked her out at the gym and told her that if the headache persists longer than an hour she should go see a doctor.

What does she do?

Goes home to bed. When she woke up the next morning, she still had the headache. She called the hospital and they told her the wait would be 8-10 hours, so she went to the walk-in clinic. The doctor took one look in her eye and told her she should have had a CT scan 12 hours ago. He told her to take a cab to the hospital. She told him she would take the bus, and he told her she could take the cab or he would call the ambulance.

At the hospital they did a bunch of tests on her and it turns out she had a really small hemorrhage in the middle of her brain. (She told me the technical name for what it was, but I’ll be damned if I can remember.) They also transferred her to a different hospital that had better neurological equipment. They told her the doctor at the clinic  probably saved her life.

I actually got a little weepy at the table while she was telling me this story. This is a girl I’ve known since high school, who is absolutely insane for Backstreet Boys, who is vivacious and outgoing and introduced me to the best veggie lasagna I’ve ever eaten. She took me to a Tragically Hip concert because she won tickets and didn’t know anyone else who would want to go. We sat there, drinking beer and I said, “so this is a real concert.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been to a concert that wasn’t Backstreet Boys. It’s weird not to see thousands of screaming girls.”

I almost choked on my beer.

“This is your first real concert? I’m so happy that I’m the one you chose to go with!”

We’ve seen each other through a lot of tough times and mostly a lot of really great times, and I kept having flashes of the great times we’ve had together while she was telling me her story, and how I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her. What would her boyfriend do? I introduced them and I’ve known him since grade school. What would any of us do if she was gone? I hoped she wouldn’t notice my eyes welling up, and just kept sniffling to hide the fact that I would be devastated if I lost her. That potentially, I almost did lose her.

There was a hint of paranoia today, after I dropped her off at the mall. I had texted her and she didn’t respond right away and that tiny little voice in my head was whispering, “you overtired her by taking her back to mom’s place, and now she’s probably unconscious on the floor of the mall surrounded by strangers who have no idea that her brain exploded.”

I’m not going to lie, when I got her text I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

This might sound selfish of me, going on about what I would do without her, considering we don’t see each as often as we probably could, but she’s always been there. I can always text her, call her, facebook her, whatever. She’s there. We talk, we pick up where we left off the last time. She asks about the kids, exclaims that she still can’t believe that I have 3 kids. I ask about her boyfriend (soon to be husband), sometimes we talk about sex, sometimes we keep it civil. Sometimes we’re catty, sometimes we reminisce. She gets me, and never fails to let me know when I’m out of line, but she’s always respectful. She’s an amazing person and I love her dearly. It nearly broke my heart to think that she almost died. That she possibly still might.

She’s on ridiculously expensive medication to prevent her brain from spasming, (it spasms to try and get the blood off the brain) that she has to take ever 4 hours.

Before I let myself carried away though, I know I need to relax and not stress about it. She’s alive and for the most part she’s well. We talked about hanging out next week and I hope we both follow through. I think I might invite her for dinner. Anyway, being with her reminded me of how much I missed her and since she’s off, we should definitely spend some time together.

We finished up the day driving back to my mom’s place to pick up my son and on the way we talked about “kids these days.” It’s so funny because we used to be those kids!

I had a really great afternoon with Cranium, even though a small part of me thought I may have killed her.

This is a picture of the lunch that we both had today. Paleo and so awesome, perhaps too much dressing, but it was so delicious! I don’t normally post pics, but look at how epic this salad is!