Self-Talk

So, I am new to this blogging trend. I have been blog-stalking a few people for a while and have been sort of fascinated with this whole idea, so I'm going to give it a whirl. I am thinking of this as free therapy, where I am both the therapist and the client, because the truth is that I should probably go to therapy, but I'm either too cheap or too proud (do we have to pick?) to do it.

Okay, any good therapist begins by asking about your childhood, right? I mean, that's what they do on television, and as one of my dear in-laws once told me, if you saw it on television it MUST be true. So, my childhood... I had two loving (if unconventional) parents who did the best they could. Aside from being forced to go on family camping trips in the snow, I was not abused or neglected. Okay, once I did have to return a broken Christmas present that was never replaced (the Heart Family laundry room). It was sort of traumatic. But I think I'm recovering nicely. We were not what you would call a "normal" family, but really, who is?

I hated school as a kid because I was painfully shy, socially awkward, and terrified of failure. The best thing that ever happened to me was making a C in history my junior year of high school. My mom still loved me (she actually tried to pay me to lower my academic standards), UT still accepted my application (I DID, after all, still have a pulse), and the world did not come to a screeching halt. This made college much more enjoyable.

I went to UT to become a teacher and left with a degree in psychology and a job telemarketing. Don't judge it. I made good money. Anyway, college was pretty good to me. I didn't do a lot of studying, but I managed to pull off pretty good grades. Since I no longer cared about perfection, pretty good was good enough. My brother used to say that you don't get an extra diploma if you make good grades, so what's the point? Yes, there's something fundamentally wrong with adhering to the philosophies of Marc (who is, perhaps, best known for his phrase, "You've got to take in a little funk.") Anyway, college... It was here that I discovered boys. Yeah, I dated in high school, but my heart wasn't in it. (I was, after all, too busy trying to make straight As and save the whales.) So, I dated a few interesting men and a lot of idiot boys. If you once dated me you're probably wondering into which category you fall. Don't let it eat you up too badly.

Fortunately, I finally landed on one guy (I'm not going to tell you which category he was in) and decided to marry him. His name is Mike. We got married April 26, 2003. We rented a little house in Fountain City and ate Ramen noodles because we were broke as a joke. (We didn't really eat Ramen noodles. Does anyone, really? Why do they even sell those?) And I began thinking babies...

Jackson was born July 30, 2004. Ethan followed 13 months later on September 6, 2005. And our newest addition, Aaron, arrived on February 27, 2008. Mike says we're done having children. He's wrong. And that brings us up to date.

So, the history part of my therapy is covered. So far, so good. Oh, but we're just getting started...