Return of the Prodigal Poster

I know. I went away. Some of you noticed and sent distressed emails and made me feel loved for a bit. The rest of you were silent--I'm assuming because you had not, for whatever reason, saved my email address at the top of your Favorites list and, since my domain disappeared and then was taken over by one of those blasted advertising sites, no longer had the helpful "Email Me" button to click.

I'm back.

I left--or rather, faded away and then simply allowed the custom domain to expire when I received the increasingly distressed emails inquiring whether I'd like to renew and it really doesn't cost much, please just click on this link--because I felt completely bottled up with my writing. Having a blended family of this complexity and, well, challenge made it very difficult to write anything. Can't vent about that person--she might read it...Can't vent about that child--this or that former spouse may read it, or someone he/she knows may read it and then send it, or even show it to the child...Can't write about how I really feel about various complicated situations because of sensitive legalities and various whatnot.

Privacy issues. That's what it boiled down to.

And it still does, really, which means I won't be posting as much about my crazy complicated family as I might otherwise.

However, I need to write. I've been feeling an ache for several months, needing this blog, needing the outlet, needing the audience. I am fragile and raw these days as I work through decades-old pain and current crises. I'm stuck in an old bog, really. I looked back through my posts from yesteryears and realized that what I'm trying to do now is what I was supposed to do almost two years ago and didn't. I didn't push myself through the barrier and the pain, and frankly neither did that therapist. In fact, I stopped seeing her a few months later. Our sessions just weren't going anywhere, and our schedules no longer meshed.

So. New year, new therapist, and I have to do the work this time or I might not make it through intact.

I need to write, and I need an audience in order for it to be real, and my lame attempts to start other anonymous blogs died in the birthing.

This blog has served as catharsis before. Perhaps, if I can pour my pain and record my joys on these electronic pages, I can face the dragons again.

Maybe, just maybe, this time I can win the fight.

Please Excuse The Dust

As you may or may not have noticed (it's still in process) I now officially have my own domain! The Google Gods have granted me a "blogspot"-free URL in exchange for a small token of my worship. However, they then apparently saw fit to remove every single link to every single other blog/website I had in my sidebar.

Le sigh.

So please bear with me as I figure out how to make the damn thing work again. Because I loves my peeps.

As you were, Beloved Readers, as you were.

UPDATE

Well, that was easy.

That, or I'm just Teh Awesome.

Where I Am

Once upon a time, lots of people were reading this blog and I was posting just about every day. Not so much these days. In fact, it's been a rare post lately around here.

I just haven't felt much like writing. And when post ideas DO pop into my head, I'm invariably in the car or shower, and by the time I'm where my computer is, all thought of posting has vanished.

Truth be told, there just isn't much going on that I feel like blogging. I stress enough about the politics of teaching without putting it out here and getting all sorts of comments on it that will make me feel more stabby than I already do. Despite nixing the emailing of posts (which did help, I will admit) there are still things I don't feel comfortable posting here for privacy's sake. And I've never really been the sort of mommyblogger to write post after post about how dang cute those kidlets are (even though they are.) I can't pull it off without just being boring as hell.

The biggest reason, though?

Life is different these days. Despite the occasional bit of angst over kidlets and stepkidlets and the whole merging of families bit, life is remarkably drama-free.

In fact, a major component in The Dark One's desire to live with her mother instead of us is because, according to her, we're boring. And by boring, she means drama-free. Whereas life at her mother's is full of chaos and drama and this, again according to her, is far more interesting.

We think we can live with being boring if that's what it takes.

Personally, I love where my life is now, crazy as it can be at times. But she's right about it being quite lacking in the Drama area. And that means that it is also quite lacking in the Fascinating Blog Fodder area as well.

There's no more angst over The Ex. No more agonizing over decisions and the relationship's disintegration. We're divorced, quite amicably in the end. We've become MUCH better at communicating and working through the occasional issue. We don't yell or argue any more. We're almost friendly. Remarkably, we are far more functional as ex-spouses and co-parents than we EVER were as a couple. And I mean EVER. It's a good place to be.

My depression has lifted remarkably. Not that my journey is over: in fact, I will be returning to therapy in a week or so to work through some other old issues that need addressing. It's not a major crisis, though, and it's not really depression. Just...stuff that I need to face and haven't for, oh, three decades or so. At this point, I'm not comfortable writing about it here, but maybe I will later. Maybe. This would also be a reason I haven't been writing much poetry on here--poetry has been a major form of catharsis for me, and there just isn't that much Stuff to work through that way lately.

And my home life? My home life is happy. I love MTL more deeply than I ever knew I could love anyone. I am loved, deeply and completely and thoroughly and without a doubt. We have our little spats from time to time, and then we work through them and learn from them and move on. We're learning how to parent together in a blended family. There are the obstacles that come with this sort of paradigm shift, but we're facing them together. It's a good life, an incredibly good life, and I feel blessed every day to have been given such a life. I feel blessed every day that after all the crap I went through and all the mistakes I made and all the pain and heartache, I got to meet the love of my life. And we get to grow old together, which is happening sooner rather than later with all our joint and back issues. We CREAK, people. We're going to be that old couple inching along with walkers and wheelchairs. But we'll be holding hands every chance we get.

(We'll also be the old couple who delights in embarrassing their kids and grandkids every chance we get. Trust me on that one. ANY WAY WE CAN.)

Isn't it strange how being happy dries up my blog posts? It does.

So maybe I am boring now. I'm certainly not bored.

Maybe it's just that life has become so much more worth living in real time, rather than online.

With Three Toilets And Four Males In The House, I Should Be Better At Clearing Clogs By Now

You know what's been bothering me? he asked, and I waited expectantly, because he is wise in many things, my love is.

You have this blog, and it's basically an online journal for you, and it's an outlet that you need. And here you don't even feel like you can be yourself there anymore, and so you're missing that outlet! I mean, I get it. I understand why you're hesitant these days. But it's not right. I think you should do something about it. Either start a whole new blog or stop the email thing. Think about it.

He knows it's part of why I've been agitated lately. Just a part, but it's there.

And, you know, he's right. This blog has gotten me through many a day, helped me process, helped me work through thoughts and feelings and bad times and good times and has been ME. Especially for the last year and a half. But you see, like many semi- or non-anonymous blogs, there's the little catch: you know some of the people reading it.

Lately, this hasn't necessarily been all that good a thing. For various and complicated and valid and sometimes only semi-valid reasons, I have been censoring myself here, frequently to the point of silence. I can't or won't lie. I won't be someone I'm not on this blog. Instead, I've stopped blogging much at all.

But I need it. I don't journal privately well: I am the sort who will write a page or two, an entry or three, and then forget. I do need that sense of audience. So as I've been dealing with a whole new phase of my life lately, one that unfortunately has elements that cause tension and controversy with a few people, one that makes me very happy but is also full of stress because IT'S LIFE, people, and....I can't tell you how many blog posts I've composed in my head that have never even made it as far as the keyboard. I feel constrained and silenced. My choice, I know, but also, well, because I don't like conflict and don't like making people uncomfortable.

Well. Here's the thing. Ages and ages ago certain much-loved people asked me if I could have my blog posts emailed to them. For varying reasons, it's much easier for them that way. Blogger has a little formatting doohickey that will automatically email posts to indicated addresses once I publish them. It's marvelous....Unless. You see, too often the idea that people will automatically receive those posts, rather than coming to my blog to read them, makes me hesitant. I hold back. I overthink the potential effects my words might have. And my anxiety over this has become such that I would rather just not post.

And my outlet becomes closed to me.

Maybe it doesn't make any sense, but if I'm just posting here and people are choosing to come read a post, I don't feel that same sense of silencing.

So. Given the choice between shutting down this blog and starting a new and actually anonymous one, or simply disabling that email feature....I'm choosing the latter.

This is the last post that will automatically be emailed to anyone. Please...if you are one of those people, this doesn't mean I'm effectively banning you from my blog. That is not my intent. I just need to unclog the flow. I need to be able to be myself here again. It may very well be, with some of you, that what I write makes you uncomfortable. I suppose I'm sorry in advance, but I can't keep on like this. I need this.

It comes down, I suppose, to why I blog at all. It's not so that friends and family can keep up with my life, although I know it serves that purpose for some. It's not so that I can connect with people online, though I cherish and value the connections I do make (and hey, I'm still a comment whore! Some things never change.) Ultimately, this is my voice. I have other outlets, other venues, other ways in which to connect and vent and process and be heard, but I need this one too.

So I'm taking my blog back. I may not be changing diapers any longer, but there's still plenty of crap in my life. And I may be facing different dragons, but they lurk in their lairs, waiting for battle, nonetheless.

It wouldn't be life, otherwise.

A Year Older and Wiser and All That Crap

It's back. Last year around this time the same thing happened. Post after post in my blog reader centered around the same topic: BlogHer Conference.

Last year, I was pretty much consumed with jealousy because there I was, fully steeped in all things bloggy, even tweeting away all day, and I WASN'T GOING. I even wrote a post about it. And then swore that in 2010 I'd find a way to go.

Here it is: Summer 2010, and BlogHer 2010 is about to begin, and guess what?

I'm not going.

And I couldn't care less.

No really. This isn't sour grapes talking. I truly have no desire to go to BlogHer this year.

You see, something has shifted over the last year. Last summer blogging and tweeting had center stage, pretty much top priority. I was trying to work out how to increase my readership, I was attending occasional blogger meetups and tweetups, I paid to have my blog redesigned (SO not regretting doing that, by the way--totally worth the money, which wasn't much), I was making plans that focused on my identity as a blogger.

That focus has shifted these days. I still enjoy blogging. It's an important way for me to lay out my thoughts and connect with peoples (that would be YOU!) and develop my voice. It just doesn't have center stage any longer.

I think the change is due to a crucial change in me. Last summer, despite tremendous growth and a good bit of healing, I was adrift. For years my identity as The Ex's significant other had been center stage. Suddenly that identity was threatened, then lost, and I needed to fill that void. Blogging was both safe and cathartic. So...I was a blogger. That identity was my life raft.

Now? Now I don't need a life raft. I've come to understand and know myself better. I'm happy in my own skin and no longer need to be defined according to someone else. Not that people have no significance in my life. Other relationships have flowered and taken more focus. I have friendships that are deeper than any I'd had in nearly two decades. I'm developing increasing confidence and peace as a mother. I found MTL.

So instead of heading to BlogHer, I'll be spending time with friends and family and kidlets and my beloved.

And I'll still show up here when inspiration strikes. Because I'm still awfully fond of you, peoples.

Insert Snarky Joke Here (It'd Be Better Than What I've Been Coming Up With, Anyway)

So I'm stuck.

With words, I mean. I have been gaining a little weight lately, but no, I am not calling for help over the ether because I've somehow gotten jammed in the doorway and happen to be carrying my laptop.

Besides, you never are really alone around this place. There's no doubt whatsoever in my mind that should I ever be in an awkward and embarrassing situation in this building, the students who would be most likely to make fun of me and never let me live it down would be the very ones to round the corner in the next thirty seconds.

Speaking of which, I was out running errands with MTL last night at Walmart, prepping for our Memorial Weekend camping trip

(Yeah, we're both planners. This means we have both literal and mental checklists and are collecting the required items gradually as finances permit. He is My Kind of Person, yo.) 

(And yes, that would include a sizable dose of dork, thankyouverymuch.)

and who should be standing in the checkout lane next to ours but H., my own personal busybody student? Heh. She's the student I have to fend off every day because she would really like to know as many details about my Personal Life as possible. She's also the one student who has now managed to run into me twice, both times when I was in MTL's company. You should see the glee in her eyes. It's a good thing she's harmless.  Just sayin'.

Anywho. About being stuck. You may have noticed I haven't written many posts lately. That's where I'm stuck.

I've written nearly a dozen posts in the last two weeks that have either been scrapped entirely or left to languish in my draft list. Prose, poetry, humor, pathos: the topics and tones have ranged all over the place. Not a single one has been worth publishing. For Pete's sake

(By the way, who IS Pete? And why are we always doing things for his sake? I wonder about these things. Again, DORK. Yes. I know.)

the only reason I even published that Mother's Day poem is because I felt I really needed to post something, and that was the best I could do. It's okay. Just...not what I really wanted to get out there. Not what was in my mind before I started typing.

That's the issue, you know. The words echoing in my brain aren't making their way onto the screen very well. I've tried using topics and memes suggested by other bloggers. I've tried writing on paper first. I've tried asking for suggestions from friends and coworkers. The results? Pretty much linguistic scat.

Here's the other piece: the posts I've really wanted or needed to write don't have a place here, or are ill advised due to timing, or would hurt feelings. Or all three. So those words remain unwritten. I say them, mind you, to that special group of people who are my constant support. It's a bigger group than I always realize, you know. Certainly larger than it was this time last year. It fluctuates a little, depending on the topic, depending on the time. There is a consistent core.

I'm not alone. I'm not depressed. I'm not freaking out.

But I'm stuck. And it's damn frustrating.

First of Something

Oh DraftQueen my DraftQueen. Thank you for giving me something to post, because dude, I gots nothing. I have this former student who promised me a written account of a highly entertaining dream he had in which I was a star player (and, um, no, not in THAT way, you dirty-minded people you. SHAME.), but the pesky business of doing Top Secret Stuff on computers over in Iraq got in the way, so I'm having to come up with my own blog fodder.

Oy.

But you, my darling, have tagged me. I'm It. Apparently I am to repost my first ever blog post and then tag some others to do the same. I'm sure, if I tried hard enough, I could tie this meme in to the fact that today is International Worker's Day as well as Beltene, but today is Saturday and I don't have a maypole handy, so I'll just be lazy and post the damn post already. You're welcome.

As a relatively new addict to the world of mommyblogs, I have had my concepts of blogging seriously challenged. My exposure to blogs was limited to the travesties of MySpace and the more personal ones of a few friends and family members--you know, the kinds that really only their friends and family are meant to see and enjoy? But a short while ago, on a day when I really had MANY other things I needed to do but really didn't feel like doing, I followed a series of links that led me to, of all things, a MommyBlog. (I won't say which at the moment, as I do believe in asking permission before linking and don't have the courage to go ask this High Lady of Humor for permission to link to my sorry little starter blog.) This Mommy was Funny. And Smart. And Funny some more.

As I became addicted to her blog and then (perhaps unwisely for the sake of the stack of papers that is teetering precariously on the corner of my desk) to several others that she herself linked, I realized that (1) blogging mommies Rock, (2) the ones worth reading have actually improved their writing skills through blogging, and (3) apparently blogging can satisfy something in women who are mommies but like to think too.

Now you have to understand that I am the type of person who writes really well when it comes to academic sorts of things, and I know it. However, that confidence falls short when it comes to the Personal. I am much like Adrian Plass, Aged 37 3/4, who starts a diary with the entry:

Feel led to keep a diary. A sort of spiritual log for the benefit of others in the future. Each new divine insight and experience will shine like a beacon in the darkness!

Can’t think of anything to put in today.

This is Me. I have started a half dozen diaries (or, rather, "Journals," very much in the tradition of Great Contributers to Literature) with the rather pompous and idealistic vision of sharing Great Thoughts with Humankind. I buy the pretty ones, the appealing ones, the Journals with lovely clean pages just aching to be written upon with a proper pen (I feel strongly in this matter, as does Anne Shirley, that only the right pen* will do). They generally lasted for a scattering of entries, and then they lay forgotten and dusty on various shelves. I find them later, mourn over another waste of money, laugh at myself and those silly entries, and then try to find something more useful to do with all that lovely paper. Such as jot down important notes about items to find and gems to get cut and quests to fulfill in another addiction of mine, World of Warcraft. But that's another post.

Similarly, the only blogging I have ever done was one exasperated post (about the frustrations of dealing with hormonal teenagers, as I recall) on the otherwise silent MySpace account I created solely to be able to read my sister's blogs. She doesn't blog there anymore, so that account lies quiet and dusty, but definitely unmourned, on some shelf the Webgods have tucked away in a back corner.

We shall see if this blog goes that way. I hope not. Mainly I need to remind myself that the best MommyBloggers are those who edit themselves and yet remain true to themselves. That way they avoid the pomposity and short-lived interest in what they write. From what I have read, at any rate.

So, here begins my account of life with Diapers and Dragons.

--------------------------------------------------------------------
* So do you find it curious, as do I, that upon reading over this entry I realized I had initially written "write pen" rather than "right pen"? A slip of the pen, or keys, or whatever, but amusingly apt.

I'm struck by the irony in one of those last lines I wrote: "...the best MommyBloggers are those who edit themselves and yet remain true to themselves." If you've been following my journey at all, you know that I was frantically lying to myself for years, and the first few months of my blog were the last few months I spent doing that. Go back and read last post of 2008 and then read through my journey of 2009...Good Lord. I feel like I'm looking back at the words of a completely different person.

And thank God, I'm not her any longer. 

So where were you and how far have you come since you first started blogging? I'm tagging MomZombie at MomZombie, Monica at And I'll Raise You Five, Arby at Boarding in Bedlam, and Nicola at Some Mothers Do Ave Em. Happy First of May!

Um....

Before y'all get all upset about my lack of coherent posts this week, please realize that I am on Spring Break and therefore have no real routine.

I know. It's such hardship.

Anywho, at some point I'll write something real. Just not...not now.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled existence.

TeacherMommy 2.0

This post today...it's important enough that I created a calendar reminder for it. And now I sit and stare at this screen wondering where to begin. I texted wrote a friend about it. He tried, he really did, but it's a tricky little conundrum.

TM: i restarted my blog a year ago today. i want to write a post about it, but i'm not sure what i want to write about.

J: How far you've come and grown over the past year.

TM: yes, but HOW
not sure how to approach it
it's one of those things that's sort of massive, so i don't know where to start

J: At the beginning.

TM: oh, that helps. i'm not sure where the beginning is....

And that is the problem. Where is the beginning?

Almost exactly fifteen months ago I wrote this. And then I vanished from the blog for three months. On Tuesday, March 12, 2009, I returned with this post. Just a short one. But there are words in there that speak a great deal about what had passed during that space of time.

Twelve months ago...the time seems both massive and fleeting in retrospect. One thirty-second of my life. So very much has happened during that time: the attempt, and failure, to save my marriage; the decision to file for divorce; slow renewal of faith; the discovery and development of new friendships; the rediscovery and deepening of old friendships; renewed interest in teaching; slow growth and change in my parenting; facing and grieving and healing from a very old wound; and so very much more.

Above all else: the discovery of Myself. I spent so many years hiding my true Self from not only other people, but from myself. I hid behind walls of my own making in the belief that if I let anyone behind them, much less tore them down, I would be wounded anew. I had no faith in the love and forgiveness of others; I had no faith in God's ability to heal; I had no faith in myself.

I have so far to go, still. Life is, after all, a journey, and if I were to believe that I had nothing more to learn, well then that would mean I was once more hiding from the truth. But when I look back over this year of pain and joy, wounding and healing, learning and growing, I realize that who I am now is Beautiful. And as I learn to love myself, I learn how to love others, how to open myself up to the possibilities that life and love have to offer, and how to give myself fully rather than always holding something back in reserve.

It's time to put all my chips on the table.

I'm All In.

I'm the Dark and Sinful Kind of Sweet, I Think

A very big thank you to Fraught Mummy at Brits in Bosnia for this Cake award! What a sweetie, herself. The rules are simple: post the award and then pass it on to a few other bloggers!

Now we all know that I'm not exactly a little ray of sunshine. Nor are you going to find much that's sugary sweet here. I think God ladeled the spice on a bit more in that recipe. So when Fraught Mummy gave me the option between the Icing on the Cake award or the Sunshine award...well, at first I was a little kerflummoxed. I love awards. I wanted an award. But WHICH award should I take?

I just couldn't go for the Sunshine award. But it occurred to me that cakes come in all sorts of flavors. And my favorite kind just happens to involve sinfully rich dark chocolate and the decadence of raspberry liqueur. So...I'll be THAT kind of cake. And icing. With delight and pleasure!

Mmmmmmm.......

So thank you, Fraught Mummy! And since I can't pick you, I'll pass the award on to: Beck at Frog and Toad are Still Friends, DraftQueen at The Drafts Folder, and Monica at And I'll Raise You Five. A yummy award for yummy blogs!

On Friendship, New and Old

Living a life of international transience as I did for so many years plays its toll on one's friend-making and -keeping. I am what is called a "Third Culture Kid," or TCK, and we have our own special little set of issues and challenges, just like every other fun little group. Different TCKs react differently to the kinds of experiences we've had.

My sister, for example, rather enjoys moving about from city to city, from state to state, and seems to get itchy feet when she's been in one place for more than a couple of years. She views moving as an exciting challenge, an opportunity to meet new people and explore new places. She can also walk into a room full of strangers and walk out with a half-dozen lifelong friends.

I, on the other hand, hate the idea of moving much at all. It's hard enough to think about moving as much as an hour away from people with whom I am close, much less to a whole different state. My roots are set pretty deeply in my area, even if it's not in a particular house. I do love to travel--but I need that stable home base to which I can return. I also struggled for much of my life to both make and keep friends.

I've mentioned before that I have a hard time connecting completely with anyone in my life, whether friends or family or significant other. Trust me, it's something that's been coming up a lot in conversations with my therapist and some loved ones. One result of this issue for me is that when I feel like a relationship is slipping away or becoming difficult, or if someone is phsyically leaving/moving, I start disconnecting emotionally, sort of a pre-emptive way of dealing with the pain. I know, not all that healthy of a move.

But when one says goodbye to person after person and friend after friend and family member after family member for years on end, one develops certain coping mechanisms, and that one was mine. Is mine.

There have been some friendships that have ended over the years because of the mechanism: some with a whimper or a fading sigh, and some with a bit of a bang. I also began to withdraw more than I should have from taking risks and making friends over the last ten years, for reasons a little too complicated and sensitive to go into here. At any rate, there are too many people with whom I used to be close (or as close as I would let them be) than with whom I was close in the last decade or so.

Last year when everything fell apart and I finally started the painful process of stripping away many of the Things and Issues that were clogging my psychological pores, I started opening up to people, slowly and bit by bit, but surely. People I already counted as friends become closer and more intimate friends. I made new ones. And now I'm starting to reconnect with former friends, and in some cases, right some wrongs and heal some hurts.

Blogging opened me up to making new friends I never would have made before--I count many of you, dear readers, in that number. Some of you have become particularly close, whether or not I've physically met you (yet). In particular, Arby, Mom Zombie, and my beloved Draft Queen have become people I consider close or even intimate friends, the sort of friends with whom I can talk about difficult things and confide in and listen to and have kick my ass from time to time when necessary. There have been times when each of those three people have made a difference in a moment, an hour, a day, and I am so grateful. Other readers (and you know who you are) have also made a difference, have become people whom I can trust and to whom I can reach out. I hope you feel the same way.

I already was on Facebook (under my real name, and no I'm not linking it here) before everything fell apart, and I had well over 200 people friended there (this is also a side effect of international transience and that whole boarding school thing), but I rarely communicated much of anything there or connected to anyone. I did reconnect in a general sort of way to Kathleen, who had been a childhood friend, and we also connected through our blogs, but I kept our relationship fairly casual. I was still holding people at bay.

That started changing when I started opening up last year. I now have a closer relationship to Kathleen than I would allow before. And over on Facebook I started connecting with people from my past in a more real way. Some I had known very superficially in the past, mostly through going to the same school. It's rather bizarre to find myself in a lengthy and honest online chat with people I wasn't sure even knew I existed back then. Others had been friends, though casual. Recently, however, I have started reaching out (rather than waiting for others to reach out to me) and consciously reconnecting with certain people.

There are several friendships that had faded with distance and time that I have rekindled. I am meeting one of those friends on Monday for coffee to catch up after almost eight years of rare communication. I am very excited to see her. Even more significantly, however, I have now reconnected with two women who used to be, at different points in my college years, the women with whom I considered myself best friends. Both of those relationships ended under painful circumstances. I had refused to acknowledge how painful those wounds still were until they started to heal, at long last, by connecting with those women.

Tonight one of them is coming to see me, to have spaghetti and garlic bread with me and my children and then just sit and talk once the boys are in bed. My friendship with her was one I had actually mourned, even though I wouldn't admit how much I was still bothered, some twelve years later, by how it had ended and by her absence in my life. Two weeks ago we talked on the phone for two hours, catching up and laughing and commiserating and, yes, apologizing at long last for our parts in how things played out lo! those many years ago.

I know many people think that all the online social networking and blogs and whatnot are silly or stupid or dangerous or whatever. To an extent, they're right. One really has to be cautious, because there are far too many dangers of all sorts lurking on the Web. However, my life would be considerably poorer and emptier without the people I have met or re-met through the Internet.

So regardless of the drama or blogger's block or necessary caution regarding privacy and all that sort of fun stuff, I'll keep blogging and social networking and flinging my thoughts and words out there across the ether. It's all worth it in the end.

Not That I'm Desperate For Topics or Anything *Ahem*

Okay. I mentioned before that it gets tricky these days to come up with topics for this blog, because of the whole minefield of my personal life and whatnot. I mean, posts about the Great Toilet Paper Hanging Debate are fabulous in their own right (and yes, Lauren, I absolutely came up with that one while sitting on the pot after a friendly debate over that very topic with someone), but I can't write about that every day.

(Though seriously, take the little poll over in the upper right-hand corner, because that's blog fodder for next week. You have until 9 a.m. next Wednesday, January 13th, to vote.)

So I'm going to take a page from a few other bloggers' books sites, so to speak, and ask you, my beloved readers, to help me out. In the comments on this post, please ask me questions, humorous or serious, that you would like me to answer. I don't promise to answer them all (especially if doing so would set off one of those mines), but I'll do my best!

And if you have a brilliant topic in general that you think I would write about well, please feel free to send that my way as well.

Please don't let me down! I don't care if you're a longtime reader or a recent visitor, a family member or someone I've never met: JUST LEAVE A COMMENT! (Well, you know, with a question or topic suggestion.)

You can DO it!

In Which I Ramble and Debate Existence as an Appliance

So I seem to have added a follower in the last couple of days, which is amazing because hello, haven't been here much. Nevertheless, gratifying and all that.

I seem to be in a blogging block right now, and even though I understand WHY, it's a little difficult to figure out how to overcome it all. Because people, there are so many things I CAN'T talk about on here that it's becoming difficult to figure out what I CAN talk about.

Things I Can't Or Won't Discuss On Here (At The Moment or At Least At Any Length):
1. My divorce--you know, all those legal things and not wanting to create drama if I can help it
2. My ex--because he doesn't want me to and I'm not sure how to write about him anyhow
3. My boyfriend--because he also likes some privacy and it seems like a lot of my family is all weirded out about me having one anyways and, you know, the divorce is still ongoing and all that crap
4. My angst--well, I could, but I don't want to because there's been too much of that and I'm getting sick of myself already

So on the rare occasions lately that I've even sat down at the computer, I find myself in the virtual equivalent of blank face and gaping mouth. What I do write seems to come across flat and uninspired. My sense of humor seems to be lacking, for one thing, at least when I write here.

Believe it or not, I still do have one. It just seems to be reserving itself for Real Life. Ask my friends--I've been making jokes and laughing and being snarky as usual. Really. But when I sit down here...it all seems to fade.

This post was a lot funnier in my head. You know, while I was sitting on the toilet thinking about posting something for once.

Isn't it phenomenally unfair how the best posts seem to come at the worst times? I'll be driving or in the shower or on the toilet or in the middle of teaching or cooking (ha!) or out on a four-wheeler or something, anything that means I cannot sit down right that minute and even jot ideas down, much less get online and write the post. I'm a brilliant writer in my own mind. Unfortunately, my mind doesn't come with a secretary.

That would be an awesome invention, you know. Some sort of device that could plug into the brain and record ideas when you want it to. Then you could work with the text later. Oh, I know there are those little note takers and voice recorders and all, but really, I need something that jacks into my brain directly.

No doubt this would lead to all sorts of horrific brain hacking and greymatter viruses, though, and then we'd just all be destroyed.

Of course, my brain already was hacked by the two little parasites I grew in my womb. I'm pretty sure they downloaded most of my brainpower between the two of them. It's hard to resent it too much, though, because they are awfully bright and brilliant and beautiful, those boys.

Me (cuddling boys close after mediating a wrestling match to determine who got to hug me the most): I love my boys!

DramaBoy: I love my girl!

The Widget: Yeah, I love my grill!

Me (laughing): Oh, so I'm a grill?

DramaBoy (grinning mischievously): Yeah, and I'm a stove!

I'm glad SOMEONE has a sense of humor around here.

Tids and Bits: They're Adorable. Well, I Think They Are.

There is a locally owned non-franchise pizza place not far from the house that I fell in love with shortly after it opened. Not only does Lucky Duck Pizza have fabulous pizza and salads and whatnot, the owner is awesome. He's super-friendly and cheerful (but not in an annoying way), gets to know his customers, and is Always There, working right alongside his (also friendly and cheerful) employees. The first time I ever went in, shortly after he opened, he told me that if I ever had ANY questions or comments, to please let him know. I hesitated, asked if he really meant it, told him I'm an English teacher, and then let him know he had some grammatical errors on his flyers. Namely, the use of apostrophes to make plurals, which as far as I am concerned is one of the Major Grammatical Sins and drives me nuts. He not only freaked out too and made sure the next set of flyers was corrected, every time I go in he has me look over his flyers and let him know if they're okay!

You have no idea how much of a thrill it gives me to be ASKED to edit grammar and punctuation by people.

Seriously. I'm a total grammar geek.

So lately when I'm exhausted at the end of the day and need to feed my kids and don't want to default to fast food, Lucky Duck has become my go-to place. They're inexpensive, and two Baby Bellas and a Greek salad will feed all three of us no problem.

My children have also come to love the place, not least because of their reception there. It's where someone knows your name and calls you adorable, people. DramaBoy now insists on carrying the two little pizza boxes out to the car, calling out Who wants a pizza? to everyone and grinning like a little maniac. He's going to be a pizza boy, he informs me. The Widget drags carries the salad, safely ensconced in a plastic bag. And everyone smiles at us. I've even heard a few Awwws.

I'm telling you, my children are labelled "adorable" almost everywhere I go. I say almost because there are the occasional meltdowns in public that wouldn't lead anyone to use that particular adjective, but generally speaking, I'm not just biased when I say my boys are plain old stinkin' crazy C-U-T-E.

*********************************

I have some new best friends. Not of the human sort, but oh how I do love them. You see, I get cold easily, and my hands in particular turn to icicles in minutes. I blame my mother along with Michigan's frigid weather. I've also been worrying about my lack of neutral long-sleeved tops, the sort that can go under other tops or vests or whatnot.

Yesterday as I sat in my gab-fest venting-session Professional Learning Community group meeting, I noticed my girl Casey was wearing an adorable thermal top with cut out thumbs. I nearly squeeed (fortunately stopping myself) and had to ask where she got them. 2 for $20 in the juniors section at J.C. Penney, baby!

Guess where I went after work?

And guess what I'm wearing today?

I got the vest at Penney's too. It is also adorable.

WARM HANDS!!! Squ---er, YAY!

*********************************

My friend Melissa over at Rock and Drool recently joined the online writing community {W}rite-of-Passage, where members practice writing stories and essays on their blogs in response to weekly challenges, then critique each others' work in an effort to encourage and improve good writing. After some consideration, I've decided to join as well. This is a bit of a stretching exercise for me, as I've never been terribly confident in my creative writing abilities. But I do want to improve my writing, as that was a key reason to begin and continue this blog (besides the whole spew-my-angst-into-the-blogiverse thing), so I think this is a good idea for me. So be on the lookout for Writing Challenge entries coming your way. Feel free to critique (CONSTRUCTIVELY--I do have feelings, people) in the comments or in direct emails. Whether or not my entries are adorable or touching or hilarious or awful or boring...well, we'll just have to see.

Gulp.

two days late

i know it was a year
two days ago
i started this thing called a blog
thought i'd be clever
thought i'd share a few words
thought i'd pretend to be well-put-together

it's amazing how when there's an audience
for your Self put into code
sent out on the silicon veins
shot out over satellite waves
the truth has a way of coming out
creeping through the lines of lies
and half-truths
and shallow observations

and when the world comes crashing down
it's there
raw
real for once

so i took a break
didn't know if i'd return
or if the words would remain
silent in their wondering
what happened
and where did i go

and after three months
returned
with a new attitude
transparency
truth
time to be raw and real
and mix in a little humor
write what i know
write what i am
write what i would like to be

it's been a year
but a year of such change
such upheaval and pain
discovery and loss
stretching and learning
failing and growing
and still wondering
what will happen
and where will i go

it's hard not to plan
not to predict
not to jump a mile ahead
press fast-forward
take a short-cut through the woods
and forget the path
i'd rather skip the next few months
there's too much that's unknown

but that's not how it works
life
the process of time
is necessary and cannot be voided
a time machine would only land me
where i'd be unprepared for what has changed
experience is painful
but experience makes up Self

and so i'll write
and post
and learn
and grow
and fail
and grow some more

through pain and healing
sorrow and joy
evil and good

and even though i'm two days late
i'll send this out to you
my readers
who watch me in my journey
as witnesses to my words

and i'll say
wherever i go
wherever this next year takes me
thank you
and thank you
and thank you again
and may the words mean more
than a vacant babbling in the wind

Life Outside the Paragraph

Tomorrow is my one-year bloggiversary, sort of. I did take that three month hiatus. Maybe I'll do a second bloggiversary marking my return and my transformation into a much more truthful and transparent blogger. Yeah. That's a good idea. I'll do that.

I'll schedule a post for tomorrow, since I may be up north or at the very least in a non-Internet access zone.

Today? Today you get some more rambling. And maybe some poetry, since there's something stirring about in there. I'm not sure what it is. That's how poetry is with me--it tends to erupt without much advance planning, if any. I do tweak and edit, though.

It's a little odd, I suppose, that I break rules with my writing here on my blog. I don't use quotation marks for speech; I use italics instead. I don't use capitalization or punctuation at all in my poetry. I make up words. I use cuz instead of because or 'cause. I use fragments and run-on sentences and all sorts of grammar violations.

And it works. Or at least I think it does. (Does it? Feel free to tell me how awesome I am. Or how horrible, though then I might have to block you.) We're talking about the difference between formal and informal writing; personal narrative versus literary analysis, poetry versus academic prose, style versus standardization. The key to being allowed to break the rules, I tell my students, is knowing the rules in the first place and then knowing how and when to break them.

One of my favorite poets is e. e. cummings, bless his uncapitalized heart. His poetry is a constant experiment with language, a game with words and sounds and meanings. Every time I read one of his poems, I feel like I'm entering a playground filled with the English language, and I feel like giggling and diving into the fun. Some of them are even visual puzzles, like one of my favorites:

(im) c-a-t(mo)
b,i:l:e
FallleA
ps!fl
OattumblI
sh?dr
IftwhirlF
(Ul)(lY)
& & &
away wanders:exact
ly; as if
not
hing had, ever happ
ene
D

--e.e.cummings

Can you figure out what he's describing? You have to see the poem as a picture, as a description in its form of what is happening.

And others speak to my soul:

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other; then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

--e.e.cummings

How beautiful is that? And how can I not adore a poet who compares Life in terms of grammar and punctuation and syntax?

Perhaps the poem stirring inside me will figure itself out later. For now, I'll leave you with cummings' wisdom.

Live outside the paragraph today; dare to change your syntax.

In Case You Hadn't Noticed...

There's something a bit new about Diapers and Dragons today! I cannot thank Judith Shakespeare of Judith Shakes Designs enough for her fabulous new design. She's been working with me very patiently for about two months now, and she's finally tweaked and loaded it up, to my tremendous delight.

You may notice on the right side that one of the new features is a blog award called "Top Marks." Since I love writing and love reading good writing, I want to start handing out awards to blog posts that are of particular literary merit. I plan on writing award posts linking to those posts and commenting on them, as well as creating a mini blogroll for the recent award winners. Maybe I'll even have some sort of contest for the TOP Top Marks posts with you, my readers, as the judges!

I'm toying with creating different categories for award-winning posts: Humor, Poetry, that sort of thing. If you have suggestions for categories, please let me know. ALSO: please, please let me know if you come across particular blog posts out there that you think are really well written. Then please email me the link at teachermommyblog [at] gmail [dot] com and I will take a look. I'll be finding some of my own, but there's no way I can hit it all. I do have a job, after all.

So let me know what you find out there in the blogosphere! And please let me (and Judith) know what you think of the new design!

A Letter to my Readers

Dear Faithful Readers,

In case you couldn't tell from my last few posts, I've been stuck in serious mode lately. Part of this is the lack of kidlets in my immediate vicinity (I haven't seen them in a week now) because having them around drives me crazy and funny at the same time. I think they're linked--I believe finding the humor in being a parent is sheer self-defense.

So with no kidlets around for almost seven days now I've instead been plunged into my own head, facing my hope and my sorrow, my dreams and my fears. When I am struggling with emotion, poetry is my refuge, which is why there's been a good bit of that lately.

I've made it a sort of unofficial policy of mine not to air too much dirty laundry on this blog. There are two reasons for this. First, I'm not the only one involved. I don't want to delve too deeply into other people's stories without their express permission. I happen to know that He Who Was would rather I didn't mention our divorce at all: I'm compromising by not going too deeply into details, particularly where he is directly involved. And there are details that other family members don't know and, really, don't need to know. There is such a thing as being too transparent.

Second, while I am technically anonymous on this blog, it wouldn't take too much for people in my workplace to find me and know immediately that it is me. I mean, there's my picture up there. And they've seen me with pink hair because I did that look for an '80s Day at school this last year. I'm probably all over MySpace and Facebook in my pink hair, eyeliner, and punk clothes, considering the number of cell phone cameras whipped out that day. And let's face it, there's a certain amount of danger in airing personal information on the Internet, particularly when you're in a position of some sensitivity, like an educator.

I'm still learning the balance. I've lived most of my life being too secretive, keeping people at arm's length as far as the Real Me was concerned. I now am trying to live a life of honesty and transparency, but in some ways I tend to go too far in the opposite direction. Amazingly, I now find such freedom and exhilaration in telling people the truth that I have to watch my tongue. There have probably already been cases of people pulling away, wondering who this crazy lady is who shares all these personal details with everyone.

I guess I feel like I don't have a lot to lose, and there's so much to gain.

However, not everyone needs to know everything, and so I'm learning the balance. If you have questions, please ask them--and enable your email in your profile!!!!--and I am happy to share specifics in personal emails. Just ask Arby about that. ;) And if you think I might be going a little too transparent and overstepping boundaries, please give me the heads up. Sometimes that's hard to see from where I am.

I'm relieved to see that my recent string of serious, if not downright depressing, posts has not (as far as I can tell) lost me readers. I will be picking up my precious boys this afternoon (oh how I miss those cuddles and kisses!), so you may be getting more Adventures of DramaBoy and The Widget coming your way to alleviate the darkness!

In the meantime...thank you for reading. And thank you, as always, for your comments and love and support. My online support system has been incredible, and I'm very grateful for you all.

Yours, as always,

TeacherMommy

It's Not an Easy Thing, but It's the Right Thing

I'm taking a step today. It's kind of a scary one. But it's time.

I've made it gradually clearer over time on this blog that my heart and faith have been changed in recent months, turning towards God and a decision to follow Jesus. This was not a simple choice. It was not, as some may think, a retreat into an "easier" way to go, a way that would make my parents happy and allow me to have some emotional crutch.

It's not easy to say I've been wrong for twenty years. I've been proud and arrogant and so, so desperate to deny that there is, in fact, One Way and it is not the way I have chosen for so long.

It's not easy to stand and confess this faith when the vast majority of my friends do not share it and may even ridicule it (though not, bless them, to my face), when my husband almost violently disagrees with my decision and sees it as a major obstacle to any reconciliation. It's not easy to make that an open part of my life when it may very well be received with contempt and even rejection by both strangers and loved ones.

So far, I've been fairly subtle (at least I think so) about it on this blog. Yesterday, I took a risk and spoke more openly about God and my relationship with Him. The response I received was so warm, so welcoming, that I finally made a decision about this blog that has been coming for a while.

Several months ago I began another blog, a more private blog, one that only a few select people knew about, where I wrote directly on my ideas about and struggles with faith. I haven't posted there for almost two months. For a while this was because I was struggling so much that I couldn't even put anything down in words. Recently I've been feeling more and more that I need greater integration in my life. I need to stop separating the different parts of my life, especially when it comes to faith. That includes this blog.

I'm not changing my approach to Diapers and Dragons. It will continue to reflect my thoughts and experiences, funny and serious, as they happen. But from now on, I'll be including my thoughts on faith in a much more straightforward manner. I don't intend to be all preachy or shove my faith in your face, but I don't intend to hide it either.

If it's too hard or uninteresting for you, dear reader, to read those more faith-oriented posts, don't worry--this won't turn into a blog of daily sermons. Perhaps you can handle one or two upon occasion? And the occasional reference in my "regular" posts? This may lose me some readers. If that's the case, I'll be sad, but I'll understand. And perhaps it will gain me others.

I hope that you'll read it all. And let me know what you think--even when you don't agree. After all, I'm still learning. It's a journey, and I won't arrive at the end until my time in this world is complete. I don't pretend to know all the answers. In fact, I'll be asking a lot of questions...

So I'm taking a step. Tomorrow I'll be posting a new draft of the last piece I wrote on that other blog, because it very much applies to where I am standing now. I hope you appreciate it.

And maybe, just maybe, it will touch something in your own heart.

Just Don't Bring Me Back Some Stupid T-Shirt

If you follow any mommy blogs (other than mine, of course, you brilliant individual with sterling taste), you may have noticed a minor trend in topic. The topic that has something to do with some conference off in Chicago that starts with Blog and ends with Her. Yeah, that one.

The one I'm NOT going to.

The one that apparently 3/4 of my blogger friends and acquaintances and mommy-blogger-goddesses-who-don't-know-I-exist ARE going to.

Even the tweets have been invaded.

There I sit, minding my own business, obsessing mildly over blog and Twitter updates, searching for something entertaining to read and comment on or tweet a reply to (oh lordy, the preposition abuse in this post must end!) and there rolls in blog post after blog post and tweet after tweet about BlogHer.

Whatever shall I wear?

Look what I found to wear!

I need a roommate!

I lost my room and need someone who needs a roommate!

Should I fly or drive? I am terrified of flying but oy! the drama of trying to drive all the way there and is there anyone who would drive with me so that we can talk about BlogHer all the way there?

The cries for sponsors, the advice, the moaning, the laughing, the countdown.

Oh, and the angst. The mother guilt about leaving children behind for a few days and is this selfish of me?!? Don't get me started: chances are if it was a father leaving for a conference in Chicago lasting a handful of days, no one would think twice. Stupid society double standard.

Wow, do I sound bitter. I thought this post might be mildly amusing, and lo! It smacks of quinine instead.

Self-analysis time. Do I wish I was going to BlogHer? Well, kind of. It sounds very exciting and I would get to meet lots of bloggers I admire and read on a daily basis. The panels and seminars would be entertaining and educational, and I could come away with contacts and friends and tips on how to improve my blog.

BUT.

I'm not exactly the social butterfly when it comes to rooms full of people I don't know. And BlogHer would be that on a ridiculous scale. So I would most likely be hovering in a corner, making a few false starts and retreats that would leave me looking like some pitiful wannabe trying out for So You Think You Can Dance. That is, when I wasn't following Melissa from Rock & Drool around like a scared puppy. Cuz she's going. And I know her in real life, so she could be my front, my tugboat, my icebreaker. (Happy Anniversary, hon! You give me hope...)

Also? There's the matter of money. A LOT of money. Money I don't have, no how, no way, and wouldn't even have a chance of saving up if I started now for next year.

So I'm going to take my bitter little self, shake it off, remind myself I'm happy for all those girls (and a few boys--hey there Neilochka, if you ever come over to read me!) who get to head off and have a grand old time. I'll even read all the Twitters and posts and whatnot that will no doubt be flooding in during and after the week, and perhaps I'll even leave comments that are low on the snarkiness scale.

Besides, it's been too long since I've seen my babies, and tomorrow I get to pick them up and hug them and hear all their chatter and get sloppy kisses.

So have fun, all you BlogHerites, and maybe if I can get a sponsor I'll join you there next year!

I'll be the one in the corner doing a weird little dance.