Tonight I am lamenting my former Catholicism. In a moment of sheer patheticness (a word I've made up), I may or may not have crossed the line in my pretend friendship with author, Kim Stagliano. Yep. I im'ed her. On gmail chat. Not cool. I'm pretty sure she quietly deleted me from her contacts, and I wouldn't blame her if she did. Who wants a girl with relatively less drama than your own to ask for a 10:15pm kibitz about what she thinks she might have in common with you? Not me. But that's exactly what I did. And that's exactly why I'm lamenting my Catholic days right now. The best part of confession is that you leave whatever screwed up things you have going on in your head with someone who isn't going to say a thing and to whom you don't really have to worry about whether or not you've offended. And if they happen to think you are pathetic, they will probably just pray for you. Maybe they gossip about you to the head nun over coffee during the Wednesday morning staff meeting- I don't know, but that's about it.
What would I tell this priest? Oh, lots of things. That sometimes I feel envious, lazy, obsessed, and lost. There is something about parenting that makes you deconstruct yourself. You were once musical, and now you just play pandora.com during play time in the living room. You were once in shape and now you relish pastries and coffee that is too sweet. You had hobbies and now you just watch tv shows about those hobbies. You started writing a book, and now you write a blog about your kid- albeit one with cute pictures and the occasional recipe or craft (gfcf pizza post coming soon!). Then your kid gets older and you find yourself trying to reconstruct what was there pre-madonna days, and you're a hot mess. Or...is that just me at 10:30 on a Thursday night? ; )
I read a book for fun this week. It was Nora Ephron's Heartburn. Enjoyable enough that I might just pick up another book-for-fun next week. I definitely did the cliche bubble bath and a book tonight; something you might not have wanted to know if you plan on borrowing the book (Sorry, Camilla). I recommend it- the bubble bath and the book, nonetheless. Another confession: I still feel guilty that I haven't re-picked up The Autism Book by Dr. Sears. Neurotic? Maybe. But we had Isaac's parent-teacher conference this week, and I know that I do need to put my nose to the grindstone again. Still, to do the less neurotic thing and pretend that everything is completely 100% fine is always tempting, and perhaps kind of healthy to do now and again. I'm sure many of you are nodding your heads in agreement right now, which leads me to my last confession. I am singing in church on Sunday. All by myself. That is, if Isaac doesn't get me sick between now and then. I'm really trying hard to have a life- really I am. I'm hoping that I'll have some pieces put back together by the time he goes to kindergarten. Wish me luck.