piece of gas

Last night after I lost my temper at my son, who was still awake and being silly at 11 o'clock at night, I told him the story of me and my cousin, Luke Duke, and the episode of laughter that got us in big trouble one summer. We were young, like maybe 8 and 6. We had been out at my aunts house until late and had both almost fallen asleep on the drive home (to my other aunts house, this was in Winnipeg). His dad carried him in the house from the car and put him to bed in the top bunk and my mum carried me in and put me to bed in the bottom. They left the room, closed the door, and *bing...we were awake. We got to that place where we couldn't stop giggling and being silly and annoying. My mum came in and yelled. My uncle came in and yelled. Finally my mum came in and threatened. We were quiet. Until my cousin farted. Faces pressed into our pillows, panic mounting that an adult was going to hear our hysterical giggles i made the worst possible choice and spoke...I said, in a Kermit the Frog style voice, "Piece of gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssssss". And that was it. We were convulsing. We laughed so hard it hurt. We couldn't stop. The grown-ups came in, they stared at us with hard eyes. They hated us in that moment, we could tell, but nothing could stop the laughter from coming. My son loved the story, but I'm not sure it made any impact. It's currently 10:30pm and he's still messing around in his bed, calling for water and tuck-ins and trying wake his sister up as an accomplice. I guess it's a rite of passage - being and idiot at bedtime.

Omg, I'm becoming so boring. All I can think about is myself. It's like when I was pregnant and could only thing about things related to baby...only now it's running. I can only think about running. When. If. How.

Okay, so I'll try another track. I'm going to be travelling soon. That's exciting. Yep. Taking the kids to someplace hot in the fall, really hoping to find a good deal to Tulum because it looks so beautiful and calm there. And then Winnipeg in December. In the meantime, I'm taking the kids the fair next week. In a wheelchair. Yep, they're excited because it means they can hitch rides when they get tired of walking. I'm excited to because it will be me doing something with them this summer that they're actually excited about.

School is going. Was all pumped to finish the next paper and then this morning the profs announced an extension on the deadline from Sunday to Wednesday. Not a good thing for me since I needed the pressure to get it done. Wednesday deadline is still very procrastinatable.

Okayyyyyy, still thinking about running and myself. I hate everyone who can run. Like officially, if you can run, and you talk to me about it, I'm going to feel some hate for you. Oh, and I hate everyone who tells me that I'll come back from this stronger. And I hate everyone who says they can't imagine how hard things are for me right now. And I hate everyone who keeps asking me how I'm feeling/doing. Or, if there is any progress. IT'S A FUCKING BROKEN BONE PEOPLE...IT CAN'T HEAL ANY FASTER THAN BONE HEALS. I have really felt lately like people can be so clueless about how others might be feeling. I know it's my choice to react to things or not, but some people need to think harder before they speak. I have this one friend who I met for a picnic dinner a couple of weeks ago. She has kids the same age as mine and when J and I were still married our two families used to vacation together in the summer. Well J still meets up with them when he takes the kids away. So when we met up for the picnic my friend starts making a huge deal with my kids about how excited she is to go boating with them! Asking them where they want to go! What they want to do! Rehashing old memories of past summers...only I'm there with them this evening and I won't be with them on the vacation. It was heartbreaking for me to sit there and listen to all the great things my friend is going to be sharing with my kids that I won't be. Do I think she did it on purpose? No. Did I lose some respect for her because of it? Yes. Seriously, think before you speak.

Jezuz, I hate where I'm going. That dark place that I haven't been to in so, so long. The place that I've been avoiding for 20 years. Maybe that's what this is all about. Depression has just been lurking in the recesses, waiting for an opportunity to reclaim me. I may have beat it way back, but it never let me go completely and now is the prime opportunity to launch an attack. To take me back.

I had this amazing (for me) realization today that there is no sense planning for the future because I am living my future right now. Saying to myself that I will make a change in the future, or when the time is right is ridiculous because the future is now, I am living it and every choice I make is writing it. And so I finally understand the saying, "how we spend our days is how we spend our lives." If I want to write a book I need to write a book. Saying to myself that I will do it later when I have the time is completely absurd. There is no later. There is only now. To quote Yoda, "Do, or do not. There is no try"