I've been doing a number of silly things this year. Things that all those stuffy "normal" types would think no self-respecting 38 year old mother should be doing. Or thinking of doing. Or just fantasizing about being brave enough to do.
I'm really not sure where along the years I settled into being "normal", but I'm fairly certain it's why I've gone and gotten depressed. Why I hate myself - okay Hate is a strong word - maybe just dislike what I see when I try not to look in the mirror as a dash to the bathroom at 3 AM because I've given birth.
"Normal" is for wimps. For women who need Valium or other medications just to make breakfast for the brood. I am NOT that. I refuse to be.
I am going to thoroughly and utterly and immensely geek out to my intergalactic hearts content. You can join me if you want.
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