Mini-Post Mondays: Dreams, Nate, Traffic, Marriage, and Banned

mini post

Dreams

Things Holden has said right after he woke up (which I’m assuming are dream-leftovers):

I peed in my room! (He’s still in diapers)

I found Peyton in my book. (Peyton is his best friend)

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Tidbits

I haven’t been having good days. Well, it’s only been like this for a few days — and actually, yesterday was good because I made my kid a house out of a cardboard box, but that meant I was outside all day and couldn’t write. And I don’t remember the day before that because my memory is shit, but I know that I haven’t written in two whole days.

Oh wait, that’s just yesterday and today. Thursday I did TTT. But now it’s 12:57 so it’s technically tomorrow.

Anyway, today I didn’t do much other than lie in bed or on the couch. And the fact that I haven’t written anything in two days is making me want to curl up and hide again, so I figured I’d share some of the random tidbits that I jot down. Thoughts and happenings and words and whatnot.

You know, to hold you over until I’m back on my game.

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I Hit My Child (GASP)

OHMYGODNOSHEDIDN’T. That’s what you’re thinking, right? Well, just hold on a minute.

Everyone, and I mean everyone has different parenting styles. Even people who aren’t parents.

And because of that, everyone has an opinion on how you raise your kids. No parent likes this. Ever. I see post after post online from fed-up parents begging others to stop judging them. But I’ve also mostly seen parents get mad at non-parents for judging them. But that’s actually kind of understandable.

If you’re not a parent (or a guardian or nanny or very involved aunt or uncle or — you get the point), you don’t know what it’s like to drag a screaming child behind you by the foot as you’re simply tying to do the grocery shopping so, you know, they don’t starve to death.

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My Anti-Parenting Guide

I recently read The Anti Parenting Guide to Raising an Inappropriate Child over on A Buick in the Land of Lexus. I think it’s my new favorite blog at the moment — it’s like there’s another lady parent out there who just gets me.

Before I get too mushy I’ll get to the point: the post was hilarious and I loved it and needed to respond, so I started typing up a comment, point by point.

Around number 3 I realized I would be CRAZY to leave such an obnoxiously long comment, so I decided to make my own post! You really need to read The Anti Parenting Guide to understand where this nonsense is coming from, so please go over and show The Mighty Buick some love. (And yeah, I’m pretty sure her name is Samara, because of her blog’s web address and all, but we’re not really on a first name basis [yet] so I’m sticking to calling her The Mighty Buick.)

(I even linked to it twice for you, so you should have no trouble finding it. Go on now, I’ll wait.)

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Shoobie for a Day

You know what’s fun? Acting like a tourist in your hometown.

Now, hear me out.

I know most of you are probably thinking that’s the last thing you want to do; you’re a local and you want everyone to know you’re a local without having to tell them you’re a local. You hate every single person who visits your town that doesn’t live within a 10 mile radius, and you would never want to be mistaken for one of them.

Please don't mind my neckchin, that happens sometimes when I'm really happy.

Please don’t mind my neckchin, that happens sometimes when I’m really happy.

But isn’t that hard work? I mean, locals purposely eschew ‘tourist attractions’ even if they’re super fun. Locals force themselves to be angry when they’re really having a good time. Locals harbor their jealousy until their heads explode, splattering other locals.

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