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When I Start Posting Song Lyrics, Feel Free To Shoot Me

It was an officially sanctioned Emotional Rollercoaster WeekTM around these parts, but I must have missed the memo. I might have tried to take a vacation from myself, had I known. It all started last weekend, with the 2004 Mama Gathering being held in Minneapolis…something I’d been looking forward to a great deal, going so far as to give a quick interview, via phone, for an article about it in the Minnesota Women’s Press. My rambling was whittled down, naturally and necessarily, but I’m hoping I didn’t sound like too much of a twit. They described the event as:

“the biggest, baddest, most subversive parenting conference and party of the year,” the Mama Gathering is a weekend of workshops, socializing and networking that caters to mamas “pierced or pinstriped, geeky or glam.”

While the Strib touted “Unconventional Mamas Hold Their Own Convention“, both of which were right on. But somehow I managed to feel like a misfit among misfits. There’s that issue with the malfunctioning filter between my brain and my mouth, a problem exacerbated by exhaustion and nervousness. This contributed to the awkwardness of not-quite-connecting with mamas I’d thought I would have everything in common with. Thankfully I happened upon a few others who instantly felt like old friends, on top of spending a fair amount of time with one who actually was.

hipmamas, angie and me
revolutionary underwear
neil's band, the goobz

I suspect my body’s havoc-wreaking hormonal hell was responsible for much of the feelings of disconnectedness, and for the past week’s crying jags and complete lack of focus and consuming need for cuddle-time and increased consumption of vegan s’mores. Speaking of lack of focus, today was my last at the part-time job. I was taken out to lunch and repeatedly told how much I will be missed (along with my signature giggle) which is always nice to hear. I tried not to rub it in, that I’ll be goofing off for the rest of the summer with my kid, having fun in the sun while wearing flip flops. I don’t think I was successful. Today also marked the one year anniversary of the husband’s creepyass cornea transplant. He celebrated by having the remaining stitches ripped out of his eyeball. The end.

the kids, running around the tennis courts
the children's museum
the children's museum
the children's museum
the children's museum