Christmas is Coming!

I love nighttime now. Even though I'm an incurable insomniac, I watch Elise sleeping curled up under Anthony's arm as they both snore. She is beautiful! And she does the weirdest things when she sleeps. Last night she sat up, said "Bleep, bloop, blop" and laid back down, sleeping soundly. Like a little robot. What do 3 year olds dream of? Sometimes she wakes up crying, but sometimes it's just hilarious gibberish. Her dad does that too. The gibberish part. Yes, I used to dread the bedtime battle for sleep, but now I feel peaceful, calm. I just watch them both, mostly her, with complete adoration. That child is my best friend. My carbon copy. She sings like me, she dances like me, she does whatever I do, and that makes me paint a smile on my face - everyday. I dive full-force into my day with her. I talk to her about silly things I can't talk to anyone else about. I've always been a kid at heart,(some say immature), but I want her to see life as a chance to improve on our next day here. She makes everything I do an opportunity to brighten her life, to shape her personality into a strong, creative being. I am very lucky I've had the ability to be a work-from-home mom. I don't think we would have as close a relationship as we do if she was being raised at some day care. I know some mothers have no choice, but some mothers are glad for the break. To each her own. It may be good for some personalities. Some people need space, but she and I feel a mutual bond. We both enjoy eachothers company. It reminds me of my relationship with my grandmother. We could talk about anything. She was always my best friend. This year we have mega presents for her under the tree. I don't know if that's good for her or not. I don't know whether to follow up on the Santa myth either. I tell her it's Jesus birthday, but he loves us so much that he lets Santa give us all his presents if we're really good. Anthony doesn't want Santa taking credit for the presents he's buying. That's kind of funny. I mean, Santa isn't real, ya know? But I was the oldest of three and we didn't have lots of money when I was a kid, so my mom asked me to forego the Santa present so the younger ones could get more. I kept the secret so long I think my sister still believes in Santa. (She probably just does that so she gets the extra presents, haha!)

Why Did I Think I Liked Christmas?

It all started when I was thirteen and I started my very first period on Christmas Day. Man, I was so happy cuz I thought this meant I was an adult. I could now do as I pleased. A full grown woman. Well, we all know what a cruel joke that was. My mom was even laughing her ass off at the irony. So why do I insist on hopefully looking forward to this date as if it were an actual holiday? I mean, it's not even Jesus' real birthday. Maybe that's what this is supposed to remind me of. After all, it's supposed to be Jesus' birthday, yet we move the date and give ourselves the presents. This day is just wrong from the start.

Under the Covers

Days go by, getting colder and colder. I have good friends, I have lost friends. I disappoint myself. My husband had me stop taking the birth control pill because he thought I was getting fat. One of my girlfriends says that's the reason for my emotional rollercoaster. I also heard that Anth volunteered to go to Afghanistan to assist in operations out there in the future. It may or may not happen. Here I've been sticking around cuz I thought it would be cruel to leave, to take his 3 year old daughter from him at this age. But he volunteered to leave us. All for the sake of money, of course. But I don't care as much about money as he does. I feel ...undriven. Definitely not motivated. I called my Dad cuz he always makes me feel like the old me, the young me. But he actually hung up on me cuz his new girlfriend came over, probably with drugs, and the party must go on, with or without me. I miss that party, but I love my family more. I wish it weren't such a tightrope of tension.
Ah...a friend stopped by with words of encouragement and a shot of courage. It's so nice to know that people KNOW me. It's also frightening. Am I that visible? I shouldn't be. I thought all my guards were up and working all this time. They've kept people off my trail for years, and now, suddenly, peep holes are appearing in my armor of defense mechanisms. They appear in my nightmares. Last night I dreamt that my well-perfected catwalk of confidence had decayed. I was so in pain that I couldn't stand straight and tall, let alone strut with an in-your-face, don't fuck with me attitude. I wonder if I can pull out of this downward spiral. The last time I felt this hopeless I was younger, kicking synthetic medications created by the government to tear the little folk down. This time I'm just kicking...myself. What is wrong with me? I need to start working out again. It's an addiction I should keep. I was still sad, but was able to disguise it with my healthy glow, ha ha. Oh well, it may be just a temporary lapse of reason. My optimism is working its way back home to me. I know it will find me here, waiting in the usual spot. Under the covers.