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Gretchen Davies @ ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) find_the_mod |
[ | | March the 25th @ 12:28am
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I miss the sound of your voice
The loudest thing in my head
And I ache to remember
All the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said
If I could walk on water
If I could tell you what's next
Make you believe
( Make you forget... )
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| twenty-two |
[ | | November the 12th @ 10:52pm
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( Warded Private )
( Warded to Doris )
Sometimes I really and truly wish parenthood came with a manual. Or at least a checkpoint where someone can tell me what my grade is thus far.
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| twenty-one |
[ | | November the 1st @ 08:16am
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I just saw the pap
Is John re
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| nineteen |
[ | | October the 19th @ 08:51pm
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You know what everyone loves? Stories about kids. It's true - I did a poll.
Anyway, I have a story and there is a little backstory that needs to be explained before I can properly explain it away. When Roger was born, my mum knit up this adorable little blanket. It was just big enough for him to be wrapped up in when he was an infant, but he's graduated to just constantly dragging it around with him. Now that he can talk, though, he doesn't only drag it around. He also talked to it as though it is a person. Roger calls the blanket "Pan-Pan" and he will just chatter away at it (him/her?).
Today, I was making dinner and I hear a little thud come from the sitting room, followed by an equally little gasp, and then just enough silent time went by before Roger came into the kitchen that made me know that the tears running down his face were absolutely crocodile tears. That wasn't the funny thing, however. At the doorway to the kitchen, he left Pan-Pan and he ran the rest of the way to me to cling to my leg and announce: "Pan-Pan pushed me."
But wait - there's more.
After that proclamation, he then turned and glared at the blanket before announcing, "Bad Pan-Pan!" and even wagged his finger at the blanket like my mum tends to do.
I - well. I am torn. Should I find this as adorable as I do? Or should I perhaps worry that my little boy is schizophrenic? Time will only tell. For now I'm going to keep finding it adorable.
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| eighteen |
[ | | October the 15th @ 12:30am
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You know what I hate?
No, wait, that's not enough to really describe my level of hatred.
Do you know what I absolutely abhor with every fiber of my being? Dating rules. Yes - dating rules. Why? Well, let's examine a few of the more popular that I just so happened to read while perusing this issue of "Sophistiwizard."
Shut up. My brother left it here.
1. Wait three days before owling back
This one is the stupidest, daftest most frustratingly dumb rules known to (wo)mankind. You know what? If you like me - fucking owl. If you had a good time at dinner - open up your damn journal and see if you can find me. Don't waffle and sit around for three days. Because, you know what? I'm not going to wait three days. I might not even like you, but chances are I'm willing to give it another shot if you get back to me.
But not if you wait three days, because I'll just assume you read "Sophistiwizard" and that's lame.
2. Don't meet each others' friends early on
I get where this comes from, I sort of do. See, if I let some bloke meet my friends and then the next day I hear about how much of an arse my friends think that the bloke is, there's a very good chance that I'm going to end things. My friends have known me since the beginning of time and they can read blokes a lot better than I can seeing as they don't have the Shagging Goggles on. But, wouldn't that make sense to go either way? Wouldn't you rather know if you're being blinded by your libido and wasting your time with someone daft?
Daft, daft, daft rule.
3. Resist sleeping together early on
All right, this one I can understand. You don't want to jump into bed five minutes into a date. Not that I'm speaking from personal exp But, for me, it's the reasoning in the magazine: "Don't hold back entirely, though; kiss her passionately as if you were going to have sex, then pull away. Doing so will heighten the sexual tension and will be a huge turn-on for her. And when you finally do decide to do the deed, your patience and self-control will end up paying huge dividends in the bedroom."
Come on.
Anyway, I just don't get it. There are loads of other dumb rules in this thing and I can't help but wonder if any of the writers ever get laid, because I don't think they could if they follow their own advice. Whatever happened to going out and doing what makes you happy? Is that so unheard of? Merlin.
( Warded to John )
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| seventeen |
[ | | October the 8th @ 09:00pm
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As of about five minutes ago, my little boy turned two-years-old.
And that sentence keeps making me want to cry. He's still quite, quite young but... Merlin's beard. It really and truly feels like I set him in his crib the very first time just yesterday and now he crawls out of it at every chance. Next thing I know, he's going to be finishing Hogwarts, moving away from me, and getting himself married and forgetting all about his mum.
Oh, Merlin.
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