I wanted to post properly today but I have many excuses. Of course, no excuse is really acceptable and having read my archives last night I'm bemused by just how many times I've used the "my computer is in the shop" excuse. So - the first thing I'm going to tell you is that my computer is in the shop. No seriously. Look people, I'm currently a commercial for why not to buy Dell. I'm hesitant to really brand Dell badly here because once upon a time I was very fond of them. However, their customer service and their attempts at fixing their own problem is bordering on being a spoof on computer lore. Though, I've taken it into consideration that my specific (3) model(s) that I have in my possession is (are) just a lemon(s).
That was as diplomatic as I can currently be. Oh wait, that's not counting the work laptop I'm currently using that is also a Dell. Though, you can blame its ineptitude on my husband's IT (ahem) "department."

So where was I? Oh that's right, I was in last year. I've updated this very little and the actual reason is I have a hard time fixating on one thing in my head and typing about another. So my superficial daily posts are distracting to me only momentarily and have become farther and fewer between. Last year, I was pregnant, and I was keeping that out of the blogosphere - well under this profile anyway.

I've already stated in this blog that I'm not great at throwing myself out there. I mean, this blog itself is already bordering on too personal for me. I'm shy, I'm a shut-in. I'm the kind of person who doesn't feel like a politician or celebrities' families should be fair game. Let alone innocent citizens such as ourselves.

Excuse number 3: I wasn't particularly well after the baby was born, and during the pregnancy I had the occasional malaise. I don't like talking about being unwell until I know the facts, all the facts, the full facts, etc.. I don't like people offering me suggestions or asking me to tell them not to worry about me. In my experience, people don't like worrying. They find out you're unwell, and immediately need you to comfort them. Them, not you, the unwell one. So why would I burden you with the weeks of bed-rest I had after this baby, or why would I bother you with me being down when even I didn't know why? Why would I do that? To share my pain? Yeah, no. I'm not good with the receiving empathy department. It makes me feel slightly edgy with unease and focal attention on me. You know me, the one behind the camera. So, there you have it, I've been unwell and it's still being sorted. The short of it is I'm lucky to have made it this far, with 5 glorious babies. Like winning the lottery 5 times over.
Also, I might at some point in the future start rambling incoherently about food allergies/intolerance. This isn't a promise to shift the theme of the blog. I'm not focused enough to be focused. I have an entire focused blog, stashed someplace else about the internet and if you're bothered I'll link you. In the meantime, this one is just pure d, unadulterated me - semi abridged. At this point you're thinking "you do ramble on, Good God woman! I'd hate to see you fully bridged!"

The thing I was thinking though, after I read myself last night was how sort of moody I've been. At least this last year. The baby was sort of a healing process for me, and not the baby herself (though she's some kind of salve for the soul, let me tell you that) more the process I went through to ensure myself a healthy pregnancy. I genuinely believe that stress and pain affect your baby and your pregnancy. I am positive it is true. When we decided to have another baby I made a conscious choice to alleviate my immediate stress. This put the genetically engineered Pollyanna character in me thrown into the nearest fire. It was painful at first. The guilt, I mean. However, I got used to it very quickly. "I'm sorry honey, I can't deal with him/her right now, it will cause me great stress and the baby doesn't deserve it." I kept my endorphins as true and clean as possible.

Now, I myself, was moody as all get out, as you can see in the lurid and languid, shiftless posts that lie herein. That was hormones and that was me wrestling with the massive snaking thought process and wonder about a 5th child. Everything kicked in from, "can I do this" to "what if I'm taking that much more attention from my existing kids" to "but I thought I was done" to "who doesn't love a baby?" From "I need a break, I need some down time as a new mom to I never want to stop having children and I'll be sad the day I'm "done.""
That also cast a light on how ill I was after having this baby. How could I feel bad about the possibility of not being able to cap us off at 6? Isn't each one perfect enough to be an only child?

Then, the wonder the kids themselves. How could I possibly imagine a 5th personality. They're all so different. They're all so the same. Where will she be on that scale?

So I became a hermit, a sleepaholic and a stressaphobe. Yes, those are real words, would I make words up? In the process though, I did manage to eliminate and identify a lot of broken things in my life. Like the house, the chaos, the people for whom I once worked. I am now reluctant to let them back in. I've decided not to. You know what that got me? That got me called "selfish" by the people are famous for once dropping an urn of my mother's ashes in the trash. Result!

The stress and the vitriol this blog has contained to now have been in a way, detoxifying. It's coming out of me, to oooze out into the vague memory of cyberspace where nothing older than 6 months is taken seriously on google.

I thought of a few things at this point (3am last night). Do I start over, scrapping this? Do I vow to make myself a better person? Do I just keep on keepin on and hope I learn to lighten up? Well really, you know I'd go for the path of least resistance right?  I truly don't believe in New Year's resolutions. For one thing, I have issues with the secular calendar. For another thing, I believe that we should endeavor to be better people as the mood strikes us and not once a year. For another thing, I think the fall-out rate of something you tell yourself when you're drunk and besotted at half past midnight on a holiday is too dramatic to convince me I should partake in said telling.
I think that people should be able to hear their own eulogies and that people should be able to decide from one minute to the next, on a Monday morning that they're never going to shout at traffic again, or never depress people in their blog again. I also believe that broken resolutions are easy to abandon. If I were to start a new bright blog and find I'm not quite ready to be that person, would I then abandon it? Yeah, probably.

This is a day later now. I'm writing at night again. I've struggled with this for a couple days and I fear until my schedule changes this might be the only time I have.
Along with not writing my blog, I've stopped following blogs. I can't put my finger on why, maybe I wasn't in the mood to see happy/bubbly people with ten thousand followers and praising each other. Or maybe the more I logged in and read them the more I felt behind myself. I don't owe anything to my blog. I'm not famous in the blogosphere. However, I do want some accountability, I want some continuity, I want to see the years and days documented in some way and this was why I set about this. So - I'm off to take my happy pills and go back out there. I might move this blog at some point, I'm not totally in love with blogger. We'll see I guess. In the meantime - Happy Ish New Year Ish, if you abide by this calendar and to each his own and same to you, Jack.


And now for something completely different - 

The Butterfly mentioned in past blogs, that only Leif had faith in and the rest of us thought was dead. Who knew they could take that long? Worth the wait.