Since I still live with my mother and she still snoops around and calls it "cleaning," which got old about 10 years ago when I was 13, I decided to burn my old journal that I started in September. I started writing in it one month after Ian and I started dating. I guess I put one together because I wanted to remember everything - The only problem is that I don't want my mother remembering everything.
My mom doesn't need to know about all of the times I've cried over the most ridiculous things...and when I think about it, I take him for granted. There are people that I now who are in really bad relationships or less stable relationships. He has never asked me for anything, he's never told me to do anything, he's always just accepted that I am the way I am - even if I'm a pain in the butt the majority of the time we're together.
I let him read a few of the entries..well the important ones at least, that were about him. They ranged from the first time I really cried over him to spending the night at a hotel, spending the day watching his mom at a dance competition to an evening when I just couldn't sleep because I had spent the last 3 nights falling asleep to the sound of his breathing/snoring.
The truth is that, as dysfunctional as I think our relationship is at times, we really are lucky. Right now, at least. Things are good. We have never had a problem we couldn't fix. Pretty soon, we will have been together for a whole year.
To some of you, whoever you are, a year isn't a long time at all but this is the longest relationship either of us has been in. So to me, at least, it means a lot. The time means a lot.
I smile inside when only a day has gone by and he holds onto me like he hasn't seen me in a week and unexpectedly he says, "I missed you. Did you miss me??"
Note: I am still waiting for the day Ian starts beating me/verbally abusing me/cheating on me but so far, nothing of the sort.
I was hungry after Ian left so I made chicken cordon bleu...which is like the best thing ever known to man (or woman in this case). It's meat with ham and swiss cheese on the inside. I DON'T THINK I really need to go into detail on this one but basically, no matter how many times you taste it, it feels like each bite is the first one - a completely new experience.
My mom did her huffing and puffing routine after I got a text from Laura asking if I wanted to talk. I called Laura. Before I phoned her, my mom kept showing me baby clothes........I'm not a baby, I'm not having a baby, I don't really LIKE babies especially if they are crying (someone should make a video of what I do when a baby is crying in my arms........I RUN LIKE THE WIND TO THE PARENT AND HAND THE CHILD OVER IMMEDIATELY), I don't ever SHOP for baby clothes so I don't really care about the items. My cousin IS having a baby and my mom bought clothes for the shower. She showed me all of these different items and kept expecting some sort of excitement coming out of my face. SORRY...but...no. My mom is so demanding of me sometimes. I don't give a crap about baby clothes only because I'm not a mother and I only have one friend who has a child and frankly, she cares more about the baby than the clothes on him.
My mom and I are two completely different people - because I was adopted. I'm from Korea. My mother's family originates from Germany. Come on now. I am very "this is how it is and if you don't like it, shove it up your butt and I'm sorry if I offended you." My mom is very "I am going to sit here and lie to you and pretend that I agree with you when really, nobody will EVER know my real opinion because I'm going around telling everyone different things to keep EVERYBODY HAPPY." My mom's a people pleaser, I'm the exact opposite. I thrive on affecting people and making them mad and getting some kind of emotion out of them based on something I've said. When I shop, I try on clothes - if they're comfy and okay looking, I'll feel inclined to buy them. When it comes to baby clothes........I pretty much think it all looks cute. Therefore I have no preference. My mom is mad at me because I wasn't SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPER excited about the baby clothes she bought for my cousin's soon-to-be girl.
I'd like to have a kid. or two. maybe. one day. at some point. But I don't think I was meant to be a mother.
I was meant to work.
I wasn't meant to be a mother either - you've got plenty of time to work out what you want from this life so put kids at the bottom of the list until you get broody. Or until 2012, when apparently, the world is going to end.
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