I can here . . . I mean I don't think a whole lot of bloggers stop by here esp since I went AWOL for a while . . . plus I am pretty sure I won't run into anyone I know here, at least I hope I don't . . . {insert nervous laugh}. . .
I often wonder if my daughter is very slightly autistic. Some of her behaviors throw me (she makes crazy noises for her stuffed animals and talks for the pictures she draws - she is 9) BUT at school (besides talking out when she shouldn't) she is normal. They say there are a lot of children who have it and haven't been diagnosed. She is probably normal - she just some days makes me want to run far, far away.
I think I am the world's worst mom some days.
I think I am a terrible daughter too. My mom is lonely although my dad is with her so she'll call me several times a day. I feel bad when I am short with her but I just wish she'd tell me everything all at once. Or she will call while the kids are being nuts or when something isn't going right.
I am a terrible friend. I can't keep up with my online email buddies or my best friend. I do have friends where I work although sometimes because we are co-workers they are hard to read.
I am sometimes jealous that my mom had my dad's insurance when she needed her hysterectomy and things like HRT. My body, let's just say, is not functioning like it should and I know a hysterectomy would fix it and maybe even some hormones but without insurance it's not going to happen until I am able to get medicaid - when I am 65.
I just wish my body was normal.
I wish I could just hop in the van and drive to wherever I wanted without worrying about the price of gas. I want to talk to my best friend and see her grandbaby. I want to go down the docks and stare off into Lake Erie. I esp want to see if at dusk. I want to walk through the sand on the beach. The really bad thing is that I want to go by myself. Is that bad?? I mean I would miss my kids but sometimes I just need to be alone . . .
OK, tooth pain is taking over . . . must take ibuprofen . . .
Night night all . . .
Love,
K.K.