**cheating. longer than 5 minutes b/c using stuff I journaled last week that is very raw.**
lots on my plate; heaping piles of things I’m infatuated with like Listen To Your Mother : Kansas City. Submissions are open through 2/15, and there’s so much I could write, but I’m scared. Yes, I’m the co-producer & co-director, and I’m scared to submit. p.s. you don’t have to be a writer to submit. Or a woman. Or a mother. The stories just have to be about motherhood—maybe about your own mom, your adopted mom, someone who was like a mother to you? SO much in my head about my mom & the days that make up my own motherhood journey—which I am DEFINITELY NOT in a groove with. whatsoever.
This was my last week: juggling motherhood in all of its guts and glory in addition to the things I’m passionate about. NO GROOVE. THERE WAS NOTHING GROOVE-Y / GROOVY about any of it.
The Gay Dad Project final fundraiser days (yes, we did it, we raised our initial $20K to get started, woot!) about killed me and i journaled this the last few days:
the clogged toilet debacle Tuesday. had to use a wire hanger to fix it, plunger alone wouldn’t work. hands in shit water. husband not home. kids doing homework, me screaming at them, crying, did not want to have to pay roto rooter to come. no, i wasn’t the one who clogged it up. thank god baby was napping.
at same time, dog ate girls’ oranges and vomited them up all over carpet. izzy struggled through 2 hours of vision therapy homework in addition to regular homework.
no patience. mean mommy came out.
i keep sharing about the gay dad project and people are sick of it and we have 43 hours left and my nephew is being born today and i can’t be there and i can’t stop crying and i can’t eat and i can’t sleep and i can’t leave the computer and i can’t show and i can’t think and i can’t i can’t i can’t show how upset all of this makes me to anyone.
i had my hands in a toilet full of shit and toilet paper and shitty water. the plunger didn’t work. after an hour i undid a wire hanger and used that. i got out wads of toilet paper.
finally after crying and wanting to vomit into the toilet bowl of shit i opened a bottle of wine and new box of clorox wipes and cleaned the toilet and bathroom and changed my clothes and drank and cried and RTd stuff on twitter and got blown off by Ellen Degeneres’ agent’s assistant’s assistant’s assistant who probably didn’t even read my email or show it to anyone. i should’ve known better than to try.
i’m struggling with my dad over the last few months and don’t understand why he hasn’t helped spread the word about the gay dad project campaign despite my support of him over all these years. we talked for a bit yesterday but i didn’t say enough. so now i want to email him but i can’t /shouldn’t because my nephew/his grandson is literally being BORN today in new orleans. it’s not the right time to talk. and i can’t be there to hold my nephew and that kills me.
i wish i knew what to say to get people to listen but it won’t mean anything and i am so exhausted in every way i can’t even compose coherenent thoughts and i cannot spell and i can’t stop crying and i hate myself right now and i’m sad and angry and i have a headache and a knot in my shoulder and…