The Queen's Rambles

I was thinking about Mosaic Minds,, our old online e-zine, and wondering if we should do something with it. I don’t have time for any more work. Especially work that doesn’t garner a paycheck. But it is just so sad and lonely, sitting there with no new updates in several years.

Would anyone be up for a group blog? We could have a monthly writing prompt, then whoever wanted could post an entry. No editing, everyone is responsible for their own content. We could give each contributor their own user name. Maybe I should have ran this by Kisha first! Ha!

Any interest? The name Mosaic Minds would fit with something like this–all the different thought processes writing on one prompt.

Also, completely unrelated, I just posted something I shouldn’t have posted on FB. One of my friends is doing that November gratitude thing and posted that she’s glad she lives in a country where she is free to practice her religion without persecution. That truly is a wonderful thing to be thankful for.

One of her friends posted that she is persecuted, because as a Catholic if she wishes someone a merry Christmas she will be called politically incorrect.

I typed and erased several responses, each more caustic than the last. I finally settled for a much tamer “Being called politically incorrect hardly counts as persecution.” Seriously, who the flyin’ frack thinks being called a name, a name that many people wear with pride, is PERSECUTION? Maybe she needs to go live in parts of Northern Ireland and see some real persecution.

I think I’m kicking Halloween to the curb. It is no longer my favorite holiday. Bah humbug.

Elsa, my dear, sweet, baby can no longer really be called dear and sweet. She’s feisty, fierce and down right mean. She doesn’t like to cuddle with me. In fact, last night during trick or treating she didn’t want to have anything to do with me and spent the night holding the hand of my friend. If she had been my first child I would have been devastated. I have to admit it stings, even though I know kids are fickle. I’m trying not to let it get to me, even though it feels like my own daughter doesn’t like me.

So my little Terrible Two year old crashed and burned from all the sugar. It was a horrible, rotten, no-good, very bad day around here. I expected her to forget all about her purple pumpkin full of candy, but I was a fool. She started asking for it as soon as she woke up. I let her have a few pieces of candy this afternoon, which was a huge mistake. It turned a mini-monster into a mega-monster. She even climbed INTO my washing machine (I have a top loader) with no stool or anything. Luckily I was right there. I think I’ve heard of a kid drowning from doing that.

Just last month I was telling my friend that I would probably skip a Threes preschool program and keep her home until Pre-K. I loved having my little girl with me and she was always so happy and content.

Hahahahahahaha.

The switch has flipped.

One of my good friends is starting a home-based preschool in January so I’ll probably sign up for that. My friend is an amazing preschool teacher with lots of experience, so I know it will be a great program. Notice how I am not going to be totally insane and start a pre-school co-op like I did when Erik was this age? Never doing that again!

So basically I was pretty much at the end of my rope, today. At one point I stuck Elsa in her bed to try to make her take a nap, something she hasn’t done in months. She was very confused. I finally calmed her down by putting her in the bathtub. Thankfully Erik had a friend over and was happy to talk boy geek Pokemon Mario whatever and stay out of my hair. He really is a good kid.

Elsa, Mike and I all have colds, which is the icing on the cake. And I have totally blown my diet this week. I can’t stop eating. I need to quit. I’m going to be crying on weigh-in day. I need to re-set my brain. Don’t I want to hit my first big goal? Why must I sabotage myself? How does shoving Snickers down my throat make my day any better? Nothing stops the hours and hours and hours of two year old crying. “Candy! Pumpkin! Candy! Pumpkin! Elsa’s pumpkin now!”

Tomorrow will be a better day, right?