Blogsession

Okay, I lied…The blog was calling me!  Staaaaaaaceeeeeeey!  Sttttttacccccey!  I've become onnnne with the blog!  Hummmmmmmmmmmm!  Blog and Me!  And for those of you who don’t know, that's a knockoff of Michael Jackson's Album Title: Music and Me!  I love blogging so much, I just might name my third child after it.  And I have now paused.......................like this.....................in awe of my own obsession!  Blogsession.  And this is why pausing is so good for you!  You’re able to dig deep within yourself and diagnose your own diseases and say…Hi.  My name is Stacey and I have Blogsession!

It would have just been rude to ignore the pleas of a blank page yearning to be filled by words and sentences and paragraphs.  Ay, I’m not here to poke fun at the yearnings of others.  I am only here to help where I can.  Some pregnant people yearn for pieces of brick…to eat.  Nobody makes fun of them.  They just get away with being allowed to wish for anything in the name of pregnancy and you poor guys, heh-heh-heh-heh!  I’m shaking my head because I knowwwwww.  I know at some point, some pregnant woman, and I hope it was a woman, but at some point, you took full advantage of the fact that anything you said you wished for while you were pregnant?  Your man would run out and get it for you, huh?  I never did that.  All I did was crave the perfect hamburger, that I never ever found.  L  Until I discovered the Wendy’s Spicy Chicken Burger on the corner of 69^th Street…unfortunately that was 16 years after my search began!  If that’s not a true voyage of discovery…a show of dedication, I don’t know what is!

But you there, I see you trying to slowly tip-toe away from the computer screen right now, hoping your man doesn’t come back bent over heaving from sprinting to the store and back and be like, “What you reading, Babygirl?”  BUSTED!!!  In your defence though, I’m sure on some level, he knew that you weren’t really wishing for a pack of wooden pegs at two in the morning.  Specially since you have a dryer and no laundry line in the courtyard.  You just needed space, didn’t you?  Well, why didn’t you just tell him?  “Love, I’m wishing for some space.”  He’ll run right out, if he loves you orrrr if he possesses the fear of the fury of pregnancy hormones, he’ll run right out and when he reaches the grocery store and finds that they don’t actually sell space, it’ll then click that all you were asking him to do was sleep on the couch for the night. 

Pregnancy not only affects a woman.  Your man loses all sense of calm in the midst of it too.  The peg example I just gave you, clearly proves that.  A woman I worked with?  Her husband had morning sickness and the works.  Now that’s love!  I didn’t laugh, out loud, because it was a very real situation, but all I kept thinking was, how does that work?  Is it because the couple is THAT connected that her pain is his pain, or her need to puke is his need to puke?  Who had dibs on the cravings…like would she have to run out at midnight, seven months pregnant to get him some countersunk pozi woodscrews to chew on?  I’m seriously curious and I should have asked at the time, but it was the first I’d heard such a thing, so I was shocked into silence.

But blogging…ahhhhhhhhh, this is freedom of speech right here.  Yet?  Meet me in person?  And you might not get more than a paragraphs worth of speech outa me!  Geese always tells me that I am a lot more comfortable with the written word than I am with speaking.  I shan’t argue but I dunno, there's just something about being able to backspace and delete, you know?  And please, before I begin to receive hate mail from parents and partners alike, do not follow my example on that.  I’ve learnt through the years that being able to talk face to face, is just as important as not running butt naked in the streets.  They both keep you out of a lot of trouble.  Maybe it’s because of the lisp I used to have in school, and then being asked over and over to say, She Sells Sea Shells on the Sea Shore.  I may have tried to protest against that by simply deciding not to over speak.  Could be shyness?  But then again, it could just be that one gets tired of talking and not being heard.