Arnie Palmers

I fear I'm becoming, well, one of THEM! You know the type. The ones that drone on about the amazement's of their children and the endless joy their little munchkins bring them; giving new meaning to the phrase, "so sweet it gave me a toothache". Well, at the risk of alienating those followers who enjoy my "cup-half-empty" blathering, I will just come out and say it....I LOVE MY GIRLS! There...I've put it out there for all to see. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH IT HURTS!
This current state-of-mind is not my fault (for the record). I put the blame entirely on my obliging ObGyn who up'd my dosage of happy pills to the point where, apparently, I can't find anything wrong with my life. I disgust myself.
I want to puke at all the sentimental thoughts that run through my head when thinking about Lucy's pigtails or Greta's dancing. And what's worse, if I did puke on myself, I wouldn't even be upset about it. I'd probably just shrug it off with a smile and revel in those crazy mother-moments when you get puked on!
ARG!
What is wrong with me? I suppose I could chalk one up to, "time heals all wounds". But then I have to ask myself...was having Lucy and Greta really a wound? In a word....YES. (Can someone please remind me to delete this posting when they learn to read). Having a child is like a self-inflicted wound that, like anything else, takes time to heal. The wound is the loss of the person you once where. The freedom you once had. The body you once loved. But time heals and a different person emerges. One that doesn't take what little freedom she can find for granted. One that proudly shows-off those imperfect lumps and bumps as war wounds. Gotten in battle. Healed, but forever changed.
Life is full of lemons and I'm sure father-time will chuck a few more my way before years end. And don't fear, my blog will once again be filled with "glass-half-empty" Arnie Palmers! But today...today my cup runeth over!