Lemme 'splain...no...it is too much...lemme sum up

OH MY...I am a walking talking billboard for the 80's aren't I?  Well despite the Princess Bride reference, I've been busy.   And honey, that is pronounced BIZ-AY.  I did this totally feminist power, "I don' need no stinkin' man" thing and bought a house.  Yeah...a whole freaking house.  And I've been working on closing the deal and packing my house.  So of course this is also the time I decided to keep up with the Joneses (which is silly to say because the only Jones I know is a single gay man, but I digress) and become one of those crazy over scheduled moms.  You know...Art Classes, Swim Lessons, Play Practice and Baseball all at the same time.  While I'm moving...by myself...with no"stinkin'" man."  Now I am woman and I do roar, people, but that doesn't make my derriere hurt any less at the end of the day.

In other news, my son with a behavioral disability was doing  sooo very well at school that at his last conference, in March, they dismissed him from the special ed program.  This was his cue to fall apart at the seams.  We live such a disjointed life with this boy.  He just got accepted into one of the school districts most prestigious programs for gifted students.  I hope he can make it through this bump in the road and get back on firmer legs.

(And I'm sure it isn't obvious or anything, but one of those stinkin' men I don't need is the copy editor I work with...pfft...)

The more things change...

I've been single for five years now and have been on exactly three dates, two of them in the last week.  Now before I start complaining about my angst, let me assure you he's a perfectly nice guy...sweet as he can be.  I have no complaints about him.  But me on the other hand?  I have plenty of complaints about me...

What is it about the potential of a romantic interlude that turns on all my panic alarms...my body and mind goes on full fledged crisis alert.  I opened a "Breaking News" email from CNN a few minutes ago convinced it would read, "Girl, he's just not that in to you.  Sorry."  Of course it was really some nonsense about Moammar Gadhafi (yeah, that guy...pffft).  Now it's not like I've spent the last five years desperately searching for Mr. Right, unable to live comfortably in my overaged skin without a man to define me.  Quite the opposite...I rarely even look.  But having someone pay attention to me leaves me feeling vulnerable and FTFO.  What's up with that?

So...

I used to blog but then I sort of got depressed and I stopped.  But I decided awhile ago that I'd really kind of like to have a blog again.  The thing is, I'm a smart girl and I know that blogs are supposed to be about something, because blogs about nothing have gone the way of Jerry Seinfeld.  So I've been thinking about what I want to blog about.

Here's the thing, I'm a mother, but I don't want to be a mommy blogger.  I'm also passionate about my religion and my politics, but I really don't want to blog about those things.  So I also don't want to blog about religious parenting or parenting politics or religiously parenting politics.  So I was thinking about blogging about kickboxing...but I don't know anything about that.