Co-Sleeping Funnies 

I had to laugh when I saw this post:  Why Co Sleeping Sucks  So true.

I really may have to declare war on the co-sleeping movement.  The family bed is driving me batty.  Not that I think there is anything sinister or wrong with the family bed.  I just hate it.  Loathe it.  That could be from the years of fatigue.  Tired kills.  Avoid The Tired.

Here are some more moms suffering from The Tired.

Co-sleeping Sucks

Co-Sleeping, You Suck

Why Co-Sleeping Sucks

See the trend?  I say its time to cut the snuggle once they are done breastfeeding.  Get outta my bed kiddo, luv ya, bah bye.


Funny About Love.

When I was a teenaged, boy-crazy, uncoordinated, knock kneed girl, having a boyfriend was a big deal.  I was so desperate to catch and keep the object of my affection that I would morph into whatever he wanted me to be.  If he wanted dark and brooding,a classic rocker,or  reggae junkie, funny, pothead, super skinny, cult religion, no religion, you name it, that was me.  I took on the look, the voice, the mannerisms of whatever he needed to find me worthy.  I lost myself in becoming him.  It never took long for him to realize he wasn’t that in love with himself and I would get dumped.  Heartbreak.  Tears. Depression.  Why?  I was everything he needed me to be, so there must have been something wrong with just plain old me, right?  Ironically, when I was completely broken and rediscovering who I was without him, he would come back.  Only for a while, until, again, I was back in the same old copy room.

Sad to say, this carried on into my young adult years.  I only became somewhat liberated from that thinking when I went through a divorce.  Then, like a complete idiot, I latched onto someone who batted me around like a dog toy for more years than I care to mention.  After that clown, I hit bottom and there was something wonky in my thinking. I realized I had something to offer.  I didn’t need to do a complete overhaul on myself for love.  At that point, I figured, why be serious about anyone?  I was on a voyage of self discovery and renewal of my faith, I did not need the hassle.  Ironically, that’s when Jon was dropped into my lap.

I didn’t have to become anything for him.  He liked to debate, but didn’t need me to agree.  I can turn my nose up at his music, or love of westerns.  He tells me unabashedly how he tolerates sci-fi movies because he loves me.  For him, I am fully me. Because of that gift we have given to each other, I don’t have to pretend that his drinking is okay.  I don’t have to stay here and tolerate it just to keep him with me.  And because he knows me fully, and loves me as I am, he knows that he wants doesn’t want lose me.

Love is crazy.  The idea that we have to be a carbon copy of another person in order for them to love us is insane.

This morning I looked out my kitchen window and it was clear as a bell. I saw this:

Sampson and Tipsoo

These two have been love birds for years.  They snuggle, they fight. She looks for him every day.  It’s sweet.  It’s inexplicable.  It’s just fine.