As I sit here drinking my coffee, I can’t help but reflect on how insane this year has been. And I don’t mean this calendar year, I mean the last 12 months of our lives.

Last June, M bought his food truck.
Last July, WiLDWiCH became an actual thing. A place people could go & eat & enjoy the food my husband envisioned years ago. We also celebrated six years of managing to keep another human being alive.
Last August, Butter started first grade.
Last September, Bear started his last year at his first school.
Last November, we celebrated a surgery anniversary, two birthdays, & gave thanks for what we have.
Last December came our anniversary & Christmas.
January was my birthday [though I have decided I’m not having those any more. It’s not that I don’t like aging. I just don’t like birthdays when they’re mine.] & another year thanks to brain surgery.
February was Pitchers & Catchers Report Day. [Though let’s not talk about the Phillies.]

I’d planned to comment on March, April, & May, but I would have to go back through Facebook to figure out what happened in our lives then & I am far too lazy to do that.

But it’s June again & I am still in so much shock over all we’ve done. [And I also realized I forgot October up there. Oh well.] It’s also taken me several days [I can’t remember how many] to get this post together, but never fear – my coffee is still as [unintentionally!] cold as it was when I started writing the first time.

We’ve had struggles [oh, have we had struggles]. We’ve had highs. We’ve had lows. We’ve had moments of tell-me-again-how-exactly-we’re-supposed-to-keep-other-humans-alive? We’ve had first grade & the last year at a first school & registration for pre-k, & thoughts of second grade looming.

Everything is hectic. But we love it. And we’re [mostly] happy with it.

Here’s to the next 12 months of crazy.


I’m annoyed.

With work, kids, the husband, food trucks, & life. With hectic schedules & never enough time & stress over paying bills. [But seriously, why are bills a thing? Can’t we just go back to a system of bartering?] With wanting to do more in this space & I can’t because again – why are bills a thing? With starting posts & never finishing them because I a) get interrupted or 2) feel like I’m an Olympic gold medalist in whining. [Which means there is a solid chance this post won’t ever see the light of day.] I’m annoyed with those first five pounds, because they’re always the ones that come back when PMS hits.

I’m also annoyed with newer Ford Mustangs because I loathe their turn signals.

I’m also annoyed with cleaning, boys & the fact that they’re so dirty, laundry, & library fines. [When Butter is President, this First Mama is going to gently guide him to his first legislation. And by gently, I mean I don’t care how old he is, I will threaten to ground him & take Skylanders away if he doesn’t do away with money & reinstate bartering as a thing.]

I’m annoyed a large chunk of my friends aren’t immediately available for me to express these annoyances to, because they live so far away. [Bear is already working on teleportation for us.]

I hate that my baby is starting Pre-K in the Fall. I can’t stand that the school system wants to label my bright & curious boy in a quest to get him on medication to calm the busy mind that is always questioning, always coming up with a great idea, & just wants so much to please people. I abhor that my soft hearted child is made to feel bad about his sensitivity because that isn’t what boys do.

I’m annoyed that Comic Sans is still a thing.

But even after this list of annoyances [many which are foolish & likely because I have been awake since 3AM!], I love the people I am surrounded by. Because even when they annoy me . . . I know they do it with love.

When Bad Days Can’t Be Explained

Yesterday was an awful day for me, brain wise.

I forgot things & I’m probably being written up at one of my jobs because of a major mess up. It just was not a good day at all.

You know, normally that’s fine. But it isn’t okay when the people around you have no working knowledge of what’s going on & you’re too upset to explain to them that really, this is not your fault. That when your head hurts so badly you’re barely functioning, it’s difficult to remember to look for things that should be there but aren’t.

When I came home & told M what happened, he tried to comfort me. He tried to say that he understands how frustrating it is to not be able to voice what’s wrong, but when I pointed out that actually he has no idea, he agreed.

He has no idea what it’s like to know something is wrong, but not be able to verbalize it. He has no idea the tears this causes, or the frustration with both everyone around me and myself. There are times I want to scream about how this is not my fault, but I can’t. All I wanted to do was sleep & I couldn’t. I was up for a couple of extra hours, pouring over the details of the evening, trying to figure out some way I can point to things not being right when someone asks me about them.

I can’t think of anything. Because those people don’t know me well enough to see when I’m having an off day. My family & the majority of my friends, yes. 95% of my coworkers? Not so much.

I hate Moyamoya.