I don’t do long posts very often. But I thought I’d share a bit of my past… (And while I didn’t give the guy’s last name, I admit, I was tempted.)

Once upon a time there was a small town girl who moved to the “big city”. She was 23, had never lived on her own, and had just ended a 4-year relationship with a man who’d been her best friend. All of these changes were very overwhelming. She felt very lost and painfully vulnerable.

One day she met a boy named Craig. She was drawn to his cocky charm. (Being that she hadn’t dated much, she didn’t realize that “cocky charm” is really just a nice way of describing an arrogant jerk.)

She definitely wasn’t in love. But she was lonely and she enjoyed getting to know him.

He was a few years older, and worked for an engineering company out of Ohio. He had gone to Ohio State on an athletic scholarship, he said. When he hurt his knee during a game his sophomore year his athletic scholarship ended. But the ever resourceful lad didn’t miss a financial beat. He had wonderful grades and easily secured some sort of academic scholarship. He had a blast during his time there and was even active in his fraternity.

Although he was working in a satellite office, (in Illinois) he said that in a few months he’d be leaving. He’d be moving to Ohio, where his company was headquartered. The powers that be were aging. They were looking to the young pups to further the company’s future. They thought he had alot of potential. He was being groomed for management.

One night before Craig and this girl headed out on a date, he cleaned out his car. He proudly showed her various mechanical drawings he had done. The company logo and address were prominently displayed. She found it odd that he’d show her these drawings. She’d never questioned his story. Nonetheless, he seemed proud of the drawings so the girl showed enthusiasm and admiration for the designs.

One night, she called him at his home. “He’s at school now,” his mom said. Later on, the girl asked Craig about this response.

“She wasn’t supposed to say anything. Stupid bitch!” was his reply. After going on a tirade about his very sweet mother, he said he was upset because he didn’t want anyone to know that he was attending SIUE to get a Masters in Mathematics on the sly. If his friends knew, he reasoned, they’d make fun of him for being a geek.

The girl had met some of his friends at this point. While they seemed nice, they also seemed like the type that didn’t take too kindly to anyone they thought was an “intellectual.” She let the subject drop.

The time for Craig to move to Ohio had come. He said he wouldn’t have a phone at his place — he’d use his work cellphone to save money. The girl got him a good-bye gift. He was speechless. He thanked her. He put the gift in the car, kissed her goodbye, then drove off. She went on with her days.

He called her now almost daily. A few weeks later when he came back into town, they went out. Something happened that she’s not quite ready to tell the blogosphere about. (Something not even most of her family and friends know.)

She never saw him again after that night. His calls, thankfully, stopped — for the time.

Shortly after the incident, the girl’s friend, Christine, who worked at the college, overheard a student who was being helped. When she heard him say his first and last name, she realized this was the guy her friend had dated.

She looked at his records.  She realized it was all a lie. He’d lied to her friend about literally everything but his first and last name.

The reality was that this boy was a few years younger. He was never a student at any place but SIUE. And even at SIUE he was hardly a sophomore. He wasn’t showing up for his classes and he was flunking out of all but one (he had a D in that class). He didn’t work for an Ohio-based engineering company. He’d never even taken an engineering class. There was no promotion. He’d never moved out of his parents’ house. He’d never left his hometown.

The girl felt like the ground beneath her had been yanked away. Then she found out Craig’s friends were in on the joke. Even a coworker of the girl knew about the farce. This coworker gleefully watched the deception unfold. This coworker laughed while telling others the story. When she found out other coworkers knew about the deception, she was absolutely horrified.

Months later, the girl was contacted again by Craig. She asked him if he’d made it to any of his alma mater’s football games. “Yes!” He said. He talked about the parties he’d been to on Ohio State’s campus. She asked him a pointed question about the campus. (Because by this point, she had done some research.) She asked a few more questions. His awkward answers indicated that he’d probably never seen the campus.

“Craig. I know you’ve been lying to me,” she said, her voice even and flat. “I know all about what’s going on.”

She proceeded to tell him what she knew. He became irate. He called her horrible names. He told her he was coming to her apartment. “You’re going to hurt you bitch,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck you up.”

She hung up shaking. By now she was in the beginnings of a relationship with someone else. Although she didn’t want to bother him, she didn’t know of too many people in the city that she could call. So she called him, confided and asked if she could come over for awhile. She spent the night. Years later she married this man.

It has been more than 10 years since this incident. The girl is a mother. Little by little, she’s learned to trust people again. She knows her trust issues have hurt her husband far more than anyone else. She no longer questions how someone could have completely snowed her. She no longer walks into a room painfully assuming she’s a big joke to everyone there. She’s stopped questioning the “why”.  The sense of confidence and competence she lost when this happened has slowly been restored. And for that she is grateful.

(First off? Some background.)

You know how baby experts love to say, “Sing to your baby. Even if you are off key, its ok. Your baby will LOVE the sound of your voice?” Well, when I sang to my baby. He’d cry harder. When he was old enough to speak, he’d scream, “Noooooo, Maaa-eee. Noooooo”. (In fact if the boy is meandering around and I’m running low on patience? All I have to say is, “If you don’t get going, I’m gonna start singing…” And it always makes him pick up his pace.)

In other words, I am a sucky singer. And the last thing I want to do is subject society to me croaking along to “Barbie Girl.” SO without further ado…

 Things I would do before I EVER sing Karaoke

1.) Attend six back-to-back catholic wedding masses without a bathroom break.

2.) Have sex with our creepy mailman.

3.) Package, produce and distribute my own homemade sex tape (with creepy, old mailman).

4.) Give said sex tape as a Christmas gift to my husband, parents, siblings and in-laws.  

5.) Make it my life’s work to convince every person on the planet that Tom Cruise is, indeed, straight.

6.) Become Ann Colture’s presidential campaign manager consequently, spending our life savings trying to get her elected.

7.) Lick my dog’s butt (Oh wait. Let’s rethink that… Nope. I’d lick my dog’s but before I’d sing karaoke or even become Ann Colture’s campaign manager, now that I think about it.)

8.) Pick someone else’s nose.

9.) Swallow the clumps of used chewing tobacco my husband likes to occasionally leave in various cups around the house. (Gag.)

10. Become a proctologist and offer free exams to close relatives.

“If we took away women’s right to vote, we’d never have to worry about another Democrat president. It’s kind of a pipe dream, it’s a personal fantasy of mine, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. And it is a good way of making the point that women are voting so stupidly, at least single women.”

“It also makes the point, it is kind of embarrassing, the Democratic Party ought to be hanging its head in shame, that it has so much difficulty getting men to vote for it. I mean, you do see it’s the party of women and ‘We’ll pay for health care and tuition and day care — and here, what else can we give you, soccer moms?’” — Ann Coulter.

Ann Coulter loves to share — especially when it comes to sharing her thoughts with the media (and when she’s got a new book to pimp). After mulling over her words for a few days, I think I know WHY Ann is the way she is. A few years ago, Ann went to the hospital to have a really big, disgusting mole removed from her head. But the surgeon misread the chart and took her brain out instead.  That’s just my silly little opinion. I could be wrong.

Disclaimer: I don’t really claim to be devoted to one party or another. But if Ann truly wants to “help” make our country a better place, she needs to stop bashing people who don’t think like her and (at least try to) understand their perspectives and backgrounds. She needs to put her judgements aside and work toward creating actual solutions to problems — solutions that mix compassion with common sense.

Hola Isabel asked a great question recently. And I want to ask it of you all. When it comes to caring for children, finances, and home — who does what? What about weekends? Also, do you work full time, part time or do the stay-at-home mom gig? And last but not least, do YOU think the work is fairly divided at your house?

Ok. That’s alot to answer so if you can just answer the “who does what”? That would be great. Its fascinating to hear how chores are divided (or not) in most households.

*During my freshman year of high school, I wanted very much to be on the school’s softball team. The morning of that first day of practice, I stuffed my mitt and clothes into my locker. But by the end of the day, I’d convinced myself that I’d never make the team. So I didn’t even attend the first practice.

*At 18, I wanted to go to Mizzou to study journalism. But I was too scared I wouldn’t be able to afford out-of-state tuition and living expenses. So I went to a college I wasn’t interested in because it was cheap and close to home.

*During that time, I landed a job where the boss made my life miserable. But instead of leaving, I endured the verbal jabs and soul-sucking games. I was miserable but too frightened to take a risk and change jobs.

*Since high school, I dreamed of becoming a television news reporter. But I knew the competition was fierce. I was too scared I’d be rejected — that I wasn’t talented, intelligent, or attractive enough. So I didn’t even attempt to ask about an internship.

*I’ve even stayed in long-term relationships that weren’t very happy or healthy purely because I was too scared no one else would want me. (I know! How pathetic! But I’m going somewhere with this. Promise!)

After graduating college, I got my first “big girl job”, then broke off an unhappy relationship. I was alone for the first time in four years and so terrified. I was navigating through an unfamiliar city and living in an apartment complex that contained more people than my entire high school. I was working for a company that employed more people than inhabited my hometown. For an insecure girl with a humble, working-class upbringing, the whole experience was overwhelming and scary. It took about a year of me working there to feel comfortable. But once I did, it was exhilarating, fulfilling and very enjoyable.

With that experience under my belt, I took a few more risks. One big risk didn’t pan out so well. And not only did it drain our marriage and finances, but it drained my feelings of confidence and competence.

Overall, I thought I’d left alot of that fear-driven, decision making behind me. But as I look at my life, I realize I’ve deluded myself. The painful, ugly truth is that I’ve been too scared of rejection and failure to seize opportunities. I’ve even censored myself in this blog. I haven’t written about some of the more painful, personal experiences because I worry about who will find what I’ve written. I worry I will shame my parents and siblings. I worry you all will form a negative impression of me. I am fearful of angering someone. But if I’m not “showing” you the real me, then you might as well be reading the words of a complete fraud. And that’s just a waste of everyone’s time, isn’t it? Plus? I’ve cheated myself out of what could have been some really great experiences all because I am a giant wussy who’s scared of almost everything but her own shadow.

I kept hoping that one day I’d awaken with courage and confidence. But I’ve come to realize that’s an absurd idea. The only way I will aquire courage and confidence is if I force myself to take more risks – in blogging and in life. I am 34 years old. I’ve wasted enough time cowering in a corner. Its time to “grow a pair.”

But the biggest motivation behind this is my son. I don’t want him to make the same mistakes I’ve made. I don’t want him to see his mother as a woman steeped in fear. Life is a gift. And a life lived in this sort of fear is a life squandered. It is potential that can never be reached. It is a bloom that will never open.

That’s not the kind of life I want to lead. And though I can’t change the past, I can change the present. There is a wealth of opportunity in this world that’s up for grabs. And instead of shuffling off with my head hung, I’m going to run full steam ahead.

Was the ever a time where you took a big risk and failed? How did you deal with it? Did it affect the way you saw yourself? Basically what did you learn from these experiences? Please share!

P.S. There’s a new show currently broadcasted on several PBS stations called The Zula Patrol. Its a super cute show. To find out why The Zula Patrol goes where no show has gone before, click here. (This is a PBN review.)

I just spent two hours on a post. And then erased it.

Sometimes you start writing about the problem. You pour your heart out. And its only when you get to the end of the post that you realize that the real issue? Is in that final, carefully constructed sentence.

I’ve never seen myself as a mother of an only child. I have always assumed I would have at least two or three kiddos. The hubby and I have been trying for more than two years now with no luck. Part of me has felt sad. But part of me has felt “ok” with it. And therein lies the problem.

Seth was a difficult baby. He didn’t sleep much, had alot of ear infections and had colic. Later, he morphed into a difficult toddler. He still didn’t sleep through the night. He didn’t talk. Several times a day, for not discernible reason he would SCREAM into my crotch. Many days I felt emotionally strung out and exhausted by 10 a.m. I was also battling 15-25 migraines a month. I felt like such a crappy mom. And my husband? Was traveling alot and working 60-80 hour work weeks. When he was home, the last thing he wanted to do was deal with a screaming child — especially one that hardly recognized him. It was a very tough few years. And our marriage barely survived.

It wasn’t until after a year of working closely with speech and occupational therapists that I began to really enjoy my son. He has as a Sensory Integration issue. You wouldn’t know it now though, thankfully. But he needs a bit more attention than your average kid. The migraines are better these days but I do know that every few years, my body goes all spastic and I get 15-25 a month for 9-12 months in a row.

And I wonder, could I be pregnant and care for a baby all over again? And this time with an older child? What if the second child has special needs (more so than what Seth had)? Would we be emotionally equipped to be good parents? We could adopt. That’s not out of the question. But the bigger issue is simply… Can we give a second child the energy and patience he or she would need? Can I be the kind of mother another child would need me to be? And would our marriage thrive or crumble as a result?

There’s NOTHING wrong with having one child. I know alot of wonderful only children. But that adage, “You don’t regret the kids you had, you regret the kids you didn’t have” haunts me. 

So the big questions I have for ya’ll are…. How did you know when you were ready for more children? How did you know when you were finished? When you added on to your family, did you think you’d have the patience and energy you’d need? And in having more children, do you now think you have the patience and energy you need? Spill it, lovelies! I am in great need of your wisdom!

I was talking to a mom at Seth’s preschool today who gets migraines too. She said hers is related to her sinuses. I felt like the clouds parted and a choir of angles was singing, “Ahhhh-mennnn” because for quite some time I’d insist to my neurologist that my migraine dramas were sinus-related. The good doctor would look at me like I was a moron and tell me there was no connection between the two. Then he’d prescribe some anti-seizure, beta blocker, antidepressant, or anti-anxiety med that would render me dazed and confused (ok, more so than normal) and I’d STILL get a bunch of migraines.

She went on to tell me she’s had some sort of surgery to “roto-root” her sinuses. (The fact that she used the words “roto-root” made me adore her ever the more.) She said they made her migraines a bit better. I’m going to try to get her doctor’s name at some point here and look into that. Cause these days I’m up several times a night just because there’s so much pain and pressure in my face that if I don’t take more Benadryl and ibuprofen I wake up with the monster migraine from hell…

Course my guess is that the only thing our insurance will cover is someone sticking two little firecrackers up my nose and lighting the end… But at this point? I’m thinking that’s not such a bad idea. My ears ring constantly now anyway…

P.S if you have any advice with this sinus stuff, PLEASE let me know!