Goodness and Light and Rainbows and Warm Fuzzies and Happy Faces and Hearts Over the i in Liz
I needed you and you were there.
People I know and love, and then people I've never known but wish I did so that I could buy you each some pie.
And especially you, Laura. We're in this PMDD thing together, although hopefully not for long.
For the first time perhaps in the history of Mom-101, I was nervous to post. I wasn't as nervous when I admitted my dog wasn't my child, or that I let my children cry it out, or that I stopped breastfeeding at six months. But this week, admitting to a possible unwanted pregnancy, boy, I was nervous.
Thank you to those of you who said supportinve things, all of which I read and re-read and read out loud while hugging myself and humming Melissa Etheridge in my head and sweating estrogen out my pores. Thanks also to those of you who wanted to say not such supportive things but stayed out of it because my need to be supported trumped your need to express a different opinion. That is true emotional maturity and you will probably be like Ghandi or something in your next life. Ghandi with an unlimited supply of pie.
(Yes, I have pie on the brain. That is the other thing about menstruation - you don't have a baby, and you want to eat pie.)
Last week while I was away on vacation, from the little I could garner from my limited internet service, I saw the worst of blogging: A site started for the sole purpose of making mean anonymous comments about BlogHer attendees; a bizarre series of emails and posts and attacks from a blogger "jealous" (her words) about "famous" (her words) bloggers who "get on a plane every three days" (As Rita put it -"!"); friends fending off trolls of all manners. Not such good timing for confessing my deepest inner thoughts here.
But you? You reminded me it was okay to be true to myself.
I'll shut up now. I'm getting sappy.
Now any tips on convincing a reluctant guy to get his man parts taken care of? For a friend, I mean. Right. A friend.