beta test – breaking ice

23Mar07

Now that I’m here, starting yet another parenting blog, I’m a little tongue tied. All the thoughts I wanted to just throw into a blog, like splat!, aren’t coming out. It’s because I’m paranoid about being found out as the immature asshole that I am. This is an extension of my hyper g-rated, password protected blog that I send out to friends and family with a thousand pictures of my beautiful beautiful 11 month old son. All the times I wanted to write about how horrible breastfeeding was and how often my husband and I threatened to divorce each other and how I was freaking out in general were ferociously whittled down into a grandparent-friendly glossed over version of how raw and terrified being a new parent felt. I’m staring at this screen and really having a hard time letting it out. There’s a back log of brain cramps that refuses to budge. It’s like trying to pee in a lake. I was a kid…10? maybe? I had been so ingrained with the notion that peeing in pools was not good (and it’s not) that I couldn’t let loose in a lake even though I was about to die from how much I needed to pee. The adults who were supervising told me to pee in the water as I was swimming, treading green water that was probably full of urine from these pee-happy grownups already. They didn’t want to take me all the way back to shore on the boat that was floating nearby. That’s all I remember about that day. I can’t remember if I peed or if I made them row me back to land.

So let me try again. I couldn’t sleep because I had so much shit in my head that I wanted to get out that I got up to write about it, it’s 1 in the morning, and started this blog.

My son was born almost a year ago. He’s so fucking beautiful. My husband and I both keep thinking and saying that to each other. It’s obnoxious, but it’s the truth…we aren’t the kind of noble parents that would say the same thing about this kid if he had a big toe growing out of his forehead. Our son isn’t like the most beautiful baby ever, we’re not stupid. But as far as we know, it’s close enough.

Yeah, I’m feeling that voice get louder. The one that dominated my thoughts when I was in my twenties and raged over into my self-destructive relationships and lashed out at the world at random. I’m shocked at how well I’ve trained myself to silence it. Is that why I’m doing this? If I can control that voice and direct it, maybe I can get closer to where I really want to be.

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