(This post was originally written as a guest post for my friend, Doug’s, blog. It was an honor to be asked to guest post and I encourage you to check out his blog here.)

Last year at this time I started a tradition. One that has made a HUGE difference in my life. It wasn’t easy, but it was very necessary. That tradition was spring cleaning my life.

We throw open the windows of our home, brush away the cobwebs and pack up the winter clothes. It’s our symbolic gesture of greeting the new season. The season of growth and change. Warmer weather, flowers, sunshine. We restart the diets that we started on New Years and failed already. All that good stuff.

But, what about the rest of our life? Cleaning our house, though most of us secretly hate it, is a rather easy thing to do. Going through clothes, revamping diets- those are mere habits at this point in our lives. Last year I decided to go just a bit further with cleaning. It wasn’t so much as a conscious decision really, life just pointed out my need to take a look at the people in my life. Who I was surrounding myself with, how they made me feel. Who they really were. Who I really was. What impact they had on my life.

Most of my life I have fought for the underdog and put everyone else’s needs before mine. It’s how I almost completely lost myself in an abusive marriage. It’s how I’ve run myself down repeatedly year after year. I always rationalized it as something I was SUPPOSED to do. That putting myself first was selfish and horrible.

And then I got cancer. It started out precancerous. It seemed like just a scare. A little blip that sucked but I would move past it quickly and be just fine. When it came back cancerous and things got dark, I retreated inside. Talking about it made it far too real. And, above all, I didn’t want my girls to know. They had enough on their plate at the time. Their dad had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. A baby half-sister was NOT sitting well with them. It may seem like nothing, but to a 5 and 6 year old that were never a priority to him, having to fight with another for the bare minimal attention they already received was a rough concept. The last thing they needed was to fear losing me.

So, this inner retreat meant I somewhat disappeared from various social media outlets as well. It just kind of happened. It was all just a blur. I was trying to keep up with everything going on in my life and then balancing dr. appointments and lab work and treatments. I was a mess, but didn’t really realize it. Then I had a couple of friends get upset at my disappearance. I took a deep breath and explained the situation. One of their responses “Well, if you don’t tell anyone, we don’t have any way of knowing. So, you can’t expect me to be sympathetic to you not being around when I needed you.” Yet, I had no idea they needed me because their way of showing they were having a rough time was to disappear off of social media. The same social media that I had backed away from. See the lovely double standard there?

Other things happened as well and I just had to sit down and take a really painful look at things. I suck at cutting friends loose. I give people chance after chance after chance. I try to cling to all their good qualities, sometimes to the point of completely blinding myself to the faults. But, there comes a time where you have to step back and look at that friendship. Is it strictly one-sided? Does it balance out? Is that person a stream of constant negativity? How does their role in your life make you feel?

After answering all of that comes the even harder part- what do you do about it? Do you emotionally put up a wall and hold them at a distance? Do you break it off completely? Do you sit down and explain the situation and work on the friendship together?

That part fucking sucks. There’s no sugar-coating that.

You know what though? When you are done, I promise you that you will feel so much better.

This year, still fighting recurring cancer, but this last round finally came back only precancerous. So YAAAY for that! My immune system is completely shot though and my doctors SCREAMED at me about my stress level. To have a doctor tell you “Fuck the cancer, it’s the stress that’s going to kill you” is a pretty big wake up call. And, it is just in time for spring cleaning time this year.

Time for decisions to be made and people removed from my life. It’s never a happy thing, but it is so freeing. A really wise person reminded me recently that when you clean out the negative, you leave so much room for more positive. And I need all the positive I can get right now. We all do. Getting rid of my first weed has already made a huge difference. People that dwell in and thrive off of constant negativity will suck you dry. Their need to be one up in the misery department all of the damn time will leave them alone and bitter one day and it’s not a place you want to be dragged to. If nothing is ever good enough for them- that is their fault, not yours. Get off the train now.

Another really wise person I turn to when deep cleaning? Bob Marley.

“Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.” -Bob Marley

There are people in my life that I love to death. That I know would be there for me if I picked up the phone and uttered one word- help. And they know I would do the same. Shit, a couple would hear it in my voice and I wouldn’t even need to say it. And guess what? We don’t talk every day, every week, maybe even every month. Life gets busy for all of us. It’s understood and that love and support is still there. We fit each other in when we can.

Then there are the ones that I talk to every day, every week, every month that I’ve said help to and they’ve not bothered to be there. And anyone in my life knows me saying “help” is one of the hardest things for me to do. I took wanting to grow up and be Wonder Woman VERY seriously. I can do it all myself, you know. Yeah, not really but that’s another post. 🙂

In the mean time it is time for me to listen to my man Marley, throw on some Three Little Birds, and clean up the rest of my lawn again.

How does your lawn look?

Most of my life I’ve been the Debbie Downer of April Fool’s Day. My inner Spock (when properly coffeenaited) is pretty quick. So, I was hard to get. I guess the harder you are to get (in this case only for me) the harder people try. Over the years people have gone to some pretty great lengths to catch me unawares. Either way, it was a day I was completely “meh” over.

Until 7 years ago and a case of heartburn. The only time in my grown up life I ever got heartburn was when I was prego with Grace. I was home on the 1st, though I can’t remember why. Morning started normal. Then I felt it- heartburn. It had only been oh 7 months ish since I had Eldest so I was hoping it was risidual or something. And then I counted. Eh only a day late, surely that wasn’t anything.

Then I panicked and called one of my best friends with “I think I might be pregnant.” You know that someone knows you inside and out when you call them on April Fool’s and say that and their response isn’t “ha ha April Fool’s” it’s “Um, you’ve been pregnant before hon so if you think you are, you probably are- go get a test!”

So, off I went to Walgreen’s and back I came with two tests (we always do two, I have no idea why) and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. Don’t judge. And 10 minutes later I was sitting on the couch FREAKING OUT as I stared at the double-lined stick. I called her back crying “HOW AM I GOING TO HANDLE TWO OF THEM!?!? ” I was terrified. I hadn’t really gotten fully used to being a mommy yet and Eldest was planned. We wanted two but I so was not expecting them to be so close together. Her response was “you’ll figure it out and it’ll be fine.” And she was right.

Telling Father of the Year was a totally different beast. I sat there wondering when I should tell him. If I told him today he’d think I was kidding. If I told him the next day, he’d scream I waited. Either way I was screwed. So, I made him a card and waited until he got home. Then Eldest and I gave him the card. Then he screamed about it being a shitty April Fool’s joke and stayed pissed off the entire night. I showed him the stick, I burst into tears. He just kept calling me an asshole.

Much, much later, we’re in bed and he says “It’s 12:10, you know it’s not April Fool’s Day anymore, right?” My response? “You know I’m still knocked up, right?”

And then I fell asleep while he freaked out. 🙂

So, now I absolutely love April Fool’s Day. It reminds me of Lilest and she’s 1/2 of my heart. And if you know her, it’s hilarious that I found out on this day that she was in my belly. 🙂

No, I’m not talking about the crazy ass Beyonce that locked down a hospital when she gave birth. That Beyonce can go sit down.

Nope, I’m talking the Run This Mutha version.

I don’t typically warn people about the content of posts. My bio is pretty much my disclaimer. I’m far from a delicate flower and when the #truthbat comes out, all ladylikeness be damned. If you have gentle eyes or are fragile in any way, this may not be a good post for you. You know what, scratch that. It’s ESPECIALLY important that you read it then. Preferably with an open mind and an open heart. Attempt to let the words settle in for a bit. Stew them around. Give them a ponder. It’s good for you. I promise.

So…

Lately I’ve been waking up, seeing the news and reading things that make me question what country, what decade we live in. It’s like we’re downward spiraling backward into the dark ages. Overdramatic? No, not at all. Not when we have states deciding it’s okay for their doctors to flat out lie to their patients if they suspect what they have to say may result in the patient getting an abortion. Even if carrying to term puts the mother’s life at serious risk.

HOW THE FUCK DID THAT GET PASSED?

Or in Texas where they are forcing women who dare want an abortion to HAVE to go through a VAGINAL ultrasound. That thing is like 10” and no joke. I had to have one when pregnant with both my daughters and it sucked.

THE LAST TIME I CHECKED- FORCING AN OBJECT INTO A WOMAN’S VAGINA= RAPE. WHO THE FUCK VOTED FOR THAT!?!?

And people, in my own state for that matter, wanting to label all us single parents as potential child abusers. When I read that and listened to him speak, I lost my mind for a little bit, did some cussing and then thought “eh, that’ll never happen.”

I’m really not so sure about that anymore.

In fact, shame on me for being so passive about it. This is a matter that directly affects me. In my own state. Yet, I blew it off. I can sit here and give good reasoning- my life is stressful enough as it is and I have to actually put my health first right now. You know what though? Fuck that. Seriously. What good is my health if I end up living in a country that allows a doctor to lie to me and a label of potential child abuser to be slapped on me? How do I teach my daughters to stand up for what they believe in and use their voices if I don’t lead by example. Every law, every bill, every policy that is put into place now will affect their lives. If not today, than one day in the future. It is up to me to fight tooth and nail to make sure that I am doing everything I can to make sure they are all in their best interests.

We should ALL be fighting for what is in our best interests. Not just sitting back and allowing politicians to continue use us as pawns in their pissing contests.

Before you even try to start arguing “abortion is murder” with me, let me stop you for one quick second. That’s not what this post is about. More importantly, according to the constitution (which trumps The Bible right now in this country), it is not. End of discussion.

Before you even try to start arguing “it’s the Republicans’ fault” with me, let me stop you for one quick second. That’s not what this post is about either. More importantly, Democrats clearly didn’t stop it from happening. End of discussion.

Before you even try to start arguing “it’s all men’s fault” with me, let me stop you for one quick second. That’s not what this post is about either. More importantly, there are women that voted for this bullshit too.

In fact, women, we need to stop pointing fingers at everyone else and start pointing them at our own selves. I know, it hurts. It’s harsh, but it’s the truth.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again- if we ever put the ginsus away, stop stabbing at each other, stop blaming men for all our issues and ban together for the greater good, we would rule this nation. And things would be so much better.

Where did we go wrong? More importantly, how do we get it together and push forward?

Let’s start with loving ourselves. As is. We all have parts we want to work on, be they internal or external and I believe life should be about learning and growing. But, love the roots first.

Then let’s start loving each other. I saw the same people that bitched about Angelina needing to eat a sandwich turn around and call J Lo fat. Seriously? Neither one should be accepted. So much judgement being passed.

Let’s ban together and let our voices be heard. Allowing politicians to decide what is best for our bodies, best for our lives, without any input from us is wrong. Allowing our rights to be taken away without a fight from us is wrong.

In this fight, it doesn’t matter what you look like, where you are from, how smart you are, how rich you are how (fill in any adjective you see fit here) you are. If you are a woman- this battle pertains to you. Hell, if you love a woman, it should pertain to you too. The next woman you see, she isn’t a stranger, she isn’t the enemy… she is your sister in this fight too. Instead of silently judging her or judging yourself against her, smile.

Start opening up discussions with friends, family, coworkers, PTA, neighbors. Start talking openly about what is happening in our country. And instead of the politicians that are too busy pointing fingers, laying blame and measuring dick size, let’s actually start coming up with solutions.

“We the people” means ALL of us. Not just politicians, not just people in power. But wait- WE are the ones with the power.

WE VOTE THEM IN.

This is the United States of America, the “free world” and it is 2012 damn it. We are women, let them hear us mother fuckin ROAR.

It is time for us to REALLY Run This Mutha.

Love or hate Beyonce, her ass was right with this song. Sing it sugar.

You would be (or rather should be) Hellbent on finding a mother that wouldn’t love to protect her children from every horrible or hurtful experience out there. I am certainly no exception. In fact, as much as I joke about my mama bearness, I know that I have the ability to go off the deep end of neurotic when it comes to my girls. They are my world. If I could roll them in bubble wrap and lock them in one of those medi-bubbles, part of me would. Deep down I know they need to go through things like pain, hurt and sorrow to appreciate joy, love and happiness all the more. But, heaven help the first person that breaks their hearts. And heaven help the friends that have to hold me back from tearing that person’s out.

The girls have fallen in love with Adele and understandably so. I am convinced her and I would be besties if we ever met. Not only is she amazingly talented, but she’s off the charts adorable and charming. And she loves to swear. We’d have such fun together. One of their favorites of hers is “Someone Like You.” In mom mode, I think “okay, no sex and cursing so it’s okay for them to listen to.” I tend to not ever really gauge how deep a song is and whether or not they will “get it.” I suppose it’s just knowing them so well. If they have questions, they ask. So, tonight they asked me to “find a youtube of her singing it.” I was happy to oblige. I figured they’d yell at me to sing along as well (bless them for loving my really horrible singing) and that they would sing along as well. What I hadn’t anticipated was the emotion they did so with. And the discussion after that occurred.

Turns out they get it. They get the song. They learned through it that love doesn’t always work out. That you can love someone with all of your heart, or think that you do, and that may not be enough. Or someone could love you like that and you not feel it. That someday someone may break their heart and love again much quicker than them. That romantic love is a tricky thing.

I suspect they will continue to amaze the Hell out of me on a regular basis. That I will continue to wonder how they came about such wisdom and how I was lucky enough to be blessed with them.

So tonight we leaped our first hurdle. Our first open talk of broken hearts. And we all survived. I know that when it really happens it won’t be as easy, but tonight may help make it just a bit easier than it could be. They know that Disney is just one story. That mommy is still on good terms and, in some cases, very good friends with people she once loved like that. That we all survived and have loved again.

As I tucked them in, they had me skip the usual lullaby and sing “Make You Feel My Love.” And then Lilest asked me again why she couldn’t marry me because she knows I will always love her and never break her heart. After I was done explaining, she then asked me if she could marry Adele. 🙂

I will never love anyone more than I love those two.

If you’ve met my girls, there is no doubting where they came from. I couldn’t deny them if I tried. If you’ve met the rest of my family, you may wonder about me though. All the people that I take after have passed away. One of the most important ones, my grandma Katie, would have been 95 today.

Not a day goes by where I don’t miss her.

My gram was not like most grandmas. Yes she embroidered and crocheted and made the best soup ever. Her Matzoh Ball soup was my absolute favorite. But, she could also drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney and cuss like a sailor. Well, to be more accurate, she had made sailors blush.

My grandpa died young, but she always wore her wedding rings. In fact, my engagement ring was a replica of hers. If you tried to tease her about needing a man, she’d say she had one. If you said “one that’s still alive” she’d say “What the Hell for? So he can sit on my couch and make me fetch him beer? No thank you. I need another man like I need another goddamn hole in my head.”

When my dad was big and scary, she told him to go to Hell. When he told her not to use the “f word” around him, she told him to fuck off. When the world told her she needed to stop working at 65, she lied her ass off and got a job. When my parents told her there was an e on the end of my name, she told them no. Katie was feisty as Hell.

And, as I predicted for years, when God told her it was time to go, she cussed his ass out all day long before she went.

She was the only grandparent I’d ever known and the only strong female role model that was consistently in my life. In middle school I used to miss the bus on purpose so I could walk to her house and wait for my dad. He would be mad, but I got to hear story after story of her life from raising my mom and aunts and uncles to riding to work on the back of a Harley. Getting screamed at was so worth it.

She was the one that taught me not to take shit from anyone and that I could be and do whatever I wanted as long as I put my mind to it and “you don’t have to use your tits to do it either, you’re a smart one, you use your brain.” This is the same woman that set her mind on teaching her bird to hate Frank Sinatra and by George every time ole blue eyes came on, her bird Louie would BITCH up a storm. If you were to tell me she had a fling with Frank that went bad and that’s why she hated him, I would not be shocked at all. My grandma was a Hell of a woman.

I have a million grandma stories I will eventually find the strength to write, but for now, I’m easing into it. Her death is a wound that’s never really scabbed over. I look at my daughters and know how much she would love the Hell out of them. They’d come home dropping four letter words like crazy and hopped up on Brach’s candy, but I wouldn’t care.

It’s time for me to make my annual Brandy Old Fashioned Sweet (her drink of choice the last couple of decades of her life) and toast her. I will leave you with this…

When I moved out to California, I would call her once a week to check in. She’d ask how I was and I’d tell her the soup sucked. One time I called and she sounded kind of funky so I asked “Grandma, is that you?” True to form, her reply was “No, it’s Mrs. Fitzimmons, who the fuck else would be answering my phone?” From that point on, I would call and ask for Mrs. Fitzimmons and she’d laugh and say “This is Mrs. Fitzimmons, how’s my favorite little smart shit doing?”

I miss you Mrs. Fitzimmons.

That beauty in pink with the glasses is my Katie. The woman to her left is my mom. The woman below looking ready to knock my Uncle Gene the Hell out? Yup, my Katie. That gorgeous red afro belongs to my ever-amazing Aunt Carol. She’s the one from my #BoobieWed post. The two of them together would make the perfect woman.

My doctor called me while I was just done dropping the girls off this morning. I’d already made the decision that I NEED to make time to write down our conversations. Especially the silly ones. This morning’s was fun. As a geek mom, I have the ability to chronicle their lives for them in a way generations before me couldn’t. I can assemble an entire book with photos and captions, a book of them. They can keep this book and pull it out and read it to their children one day. I have made myself a promise that, no matter what, I am going to do this. I have to.

None of us know how long we will be here. I have great plans and decades to spend with my girls in my mind and heart. But, it’s not solely up to me. So, doc informed me that I have the most stubborn white blood cells and cervix she’s ever seen. The fact that I am abnormal is not a shock, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that this was the one time in my life I wish I was called normal. The cells bother her, the cervix we suspected and it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s back. But, it does mean I get a hot date with a LEEP and sadly she said they just can’t LEEP away my entire cervix. One of these days it’ll buy me dinner first damnit.

I’m at a different place this time around, a different mind set. While I’ve always had the “let’s do this! Let’s fight back!” attitude, I was getting weary. Balancing everything was a trick before, now it’s flat-out draining. This past summer when I made the decision to go back to work full time, rather than freelance, I picked a place that was very unlike me. Yet, it fit perfectly. It’s a seasonal company. Meaning, I get laid off over the next few weeks. A lay of with pay enough to get me through it and time to take a step back and revamp. A much needed breather. A chance for a re-birth.

And I plan on taking advantage of every moment of it. I’ve revamped our eating habits and begun training for the Dirty Girl Run. I’ve begun to reorganize our house, though you probably can’t tell looking at it right this moment. The girls and I have settled in to the new schedule so far, but this is just week one of it. Now, it’s back to the things that matter. Refocusing on the dream and making it happen this year- cancer or no cancer.

Another upside of all of this was that it allotted (read: forced) me to take a step back and look at everything and everyone in my life. To boil things down to what is most important. To come to terms with what I may truly mean to some and them to me. To take stock and make an effort to mend some that may have needed mending and deal with whether it was reciprocated or not. You know how you know when someone is a real friend? It could be hours, days, weeks, years since you’ve sat down and really talked, yet a beat is never missed and that love is still there and even if they don’t have time at the moment, you can tell they are happy as Hell to hear from you.

And I’ve learned that if you completely fuck it all up, there is tomorrow.

Every single day we all get a re-do.

P.S. So today’s conversations on the way to school…..

Lilest: “GIVE US MATH PROBLEMS!!”
Eldest: “YEAH MOMMY!!! MATH PROBLEMS!”
Both: (chanting) “MATH PROBLEMS! MATH PROBLEMS!”

They are such nerds! Now, coming up for math problems for a 6 and 7 year old while driving may sound like a piece of cake. My girls don’t deal with “what’s 3 + 7?” Nope, they want WORD problems. Which means that I have to keep track of my own problem while I’m making it up. Possibly on a lack of coffee. While driving through a town that I swear has the worst drivers ever.

Me: “Okay, Hailey first… if there are 3 houses on the right side and 4 houses on the left side, how many houses are on the block?”
Lilest: “Duh, that’s 7. MAKE THEM HARDER!!”
Me: “Okie Dokie. If there are 14 houses on this block and 7 are on the right side, how many are on the left?’
Lilest: “SEVEN!”
Eldest: “SEVEN! HEY! IT WAS MY TURN YOU BIG DOOFUS!”
Me: “NOT OKAY!!!”
Eldest: “You gotta take turns cuz I know more stuff than she does, I get harder ones.”
Me: “Okay, (insert eldest’s name here) there are 12 houses on the next block, all with 2 windows. How many windows are on the block?”
Eldest: “Good one! Let me think!”
Lilest: “That’s a multiplication problem.” 
Eldest: “I KNOW!!”

Eldest got it right. In fact they both got all of theirs right. Lilest’s next one was “If mommy drinks one cup of coffee every hour and I spend 3 hours at Starbucks, how many cups of coffee will I have drank?” And Eldest got the last one with “If we got to AJ Bombers for dinner and they have a big special going where hamburgers cost $1.00 and sweet potato chips are $0.50 how much would it cost all together if we each got one hamburger and one order of sweet potato chips?”

I love that they love to learn. I love that they are a bit competitive in that department. I love that we take the time to actually spend time together in the car on the way to and from, well anywhere together. But, especially to school. We both need that love in the morning.

It may look like just an ordinary table. Sadly, some may think it ugly. Both couldn’t be further from the truth. What lies buried deep within the wood are years and years of memories. Of laughter. Of love.

Once upon a time, this table was the only table in my grandmother’s modest little apartment.

If you’ve read my “Yup, I’ve Got Boobs” (http://lifeinmonkeyland.blogspot.com/2009/10/yup-ive-got-boobs.html) post, you have caught a small glimmer into the awesomeness that was my grandmother. Her and my aunt were the first and only real strong female role models that I had growing up. Whenever I look at my family and wonder how I fit in, I think of them and it begins to make sense. She was also the only grandparent I’ve ever known.

Grandma passed away December 30th, 1999 of Pancreatic Cancer. Fuck you very much again Cancer. I remember someone looking at me and saying “Awww she just missed seeing the new millennium.” She was the feistiest 85 year old you would have ever met and I know exactly what her response would have been “New millennium, same shytting thing.” Someday I plan on writing a series of posts on her. Not only because the stories are great, but because they need to be preserved so I may hand them down to the girls and they can hand them down. To listen to them tell their children how great grandma rode to work on the back of a Harley and made the best Matzoh Ball soup ever is something I hope I live to hear.

Someday. But not today. I don’t have the strength in me today to open that all up. This last year has been one continual fight against the very type of beast that took my grandmother and my aunt. And it has gotten overwhelming. There have been days where I am so tired I just want to curl in a ball and cry. But then I think of them, take a deep breath and think “I’ve got this.” I miss them both so much.

Today I stood in the pouring rain, holding the door open as my parents brought it out of the back of their minivan. As soon as the first chair came out, I caught my breath. By the time the table came out, the lump in my throat was huge. I kept trying to swallow it, hoping the rain would help me wash it down. I haven’t seen it since before she passed.

Now it sits in our home where our memories, our laughter, our love can be added to those already within it. Its mere presence has already brought me comfort. I want to hug it, to sit at it and lay my head upon it… listening for her voice, smelling for Matzoh Ball soup.

To many it may look like a simple table. To me it is a piece of my grandma.

For as long as I can remember, I have always taken mass amounts of crap from someone before I stand up for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll stand up for those I care about in a heartbeat. Yet, I’ve always seemed to subconsciously deem myself unworthy of the same thing.

I’ve long given people chance after chance and had a hard time cutting ties. It’s always seemed like giving up on someone. I don’t like to give up on people.

But, the flipside is not doing so is giving up on me. So, I’ve gotten better at voicing my feelings when they’ve been smacked around a bit. And today I took that one step further.

It’s going to seem ridiculously silly I’m sure, but it was a breakthrough to me. I’ve never actually “unfriended” or “deleted” or “unfollowed” someone I’ve known. I’ve blocked some crazies here and there but never someone I once deemed a friend (or more.)

Until now.

Facebook is different for me than anywhere else online. The monkeys have names. People on there have known me my whole life. Seen me naked. Gave me tissue when I’ve cried. Hell watched me give birth. There’s an intimacy the exists there that doesn’t anywhere else.

I realized that if someone is okay with being a complete and utter douchebag to me, than they do not have the right to that intimacy.

So, one click of the button has solved that. And it feels pretty damn good. 🙂 It also kinda sucks.

So, if you follow me on the twitters or the facebook then you know I took the monkeys a rummagin’ yesterday. You may also know that it was the “$10.00 for whatever you can fit in your bag” day and one of the women was not so thrilled when she saw my bag. For I am 1. a single mom and b. have mad Tetris skills.

The haul?

8 skirts
6 pairs of shorts
2 dresses
2 pairs of monkey pjs’s
1 monkey sun visor
23 tops (mostly T shirts)

All pretty hipster wearing brand names.

So, that works out to be roughly to be roughly 24 cents a piece. 🙂

And it’s all stuff I can layer the mess outta when it gets warmer. 🙂

Don’t ever let anyone tell you Tetris would not come in handy!!

Random Shiny Object Syndrome.

Now, most people will read that and think I like random shiny objects. Don’t get me wrong, I do. This is different though. In this scenario, I’m the shiny. Or maybe I just attract people with a weird version of ADD.

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a pretty social gal. I randomly smile at people all the time and tend to know most of the employees at the places I frequent. It’s just how I am. And people always tend to smile and chat back. That’s how human interaction is supposed to work. It’s a lovely thing.

But, I seem to have this knack for drawing in people that are all excited to get to know me, spend time with me, talk to me. Like I’m a new toy on Christmas morning. And I get all excited right back.

And then…..

*poof*

They move on to the next shiny.

And I’m left sad and pouty.

It’s actually started to affect me. I’m a pretty open book and have a huge squishy heart. Putting it out there was something I continued to do willingly no matter how much things hurt. Now I’m more skittish and guarded. I’ll catch myself doing the excited puppy dance back and stop and take five steps back and a deep breath. I keep bracing for my shiny to wear off and them to *poof.*

Maybe it’s all my fault. Perhaps I haven’t outgrown being that kid at the park that made a bunch of friends playing all day and cried the whole way home when I realized I would probably never see them again.

Either way, it sucks.