Disclaimer = Right to Vent?

My hormones have got the best of me again. It seems that ever since I had Roan, I get into this funk the week prior to Aunt Flo's monthly visit. I have no control over my emotions! And now anyone who is reading this knows when I will be menstruating next.

I have been reading Five Quarters of the Orange, the first name of the author escapes me right now, but she also wrote Chocolat. Harris is her last name. Her use of language is so poetic. I feel a little drunk when I'm reading this book. My point, is that reading this book makes me realize that Mom's can never be glorified enough! Simply the crap that they put up with? Can anyone claim to be more unselfish than a mother?

I've been so hating on Choua lately. Why can't I be a little bit more selfish? I know that he would beg to differ, but why am I the only one concerned about our life? Why do I wait for him to make final decisions...why do I bother to try to let him be The Husband? When will he grow up and be responsible? How long can a woman wait for her man? How long should she wait?

To all of the single ladies out there, don't think that just because you fall in love at an older age, with an older man (by older, I mean someone at least in his late twenties), that he knows anything more than the 21-year old in college. In fact, he's probably just better at pretending to be an adult. The minute you marry that guy, he will revert to being the lost child he never grew out of...never wanted to grow out of.

Why am I always such a late bloomer? I seem to experience everything a decade later than my similar-aged peers. When I was 20.5, with my first boyfriend, I could only relate to the teeny bopper girly magazines, doing the quizzes..."Does He Like Me?" Why, oh why...did I have to marry a late bloomer? I was tricked!


My friend sent me this picture of Roan when he was almost two months. I'm dying to have another one...but it's not the right time.