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I'm sitting here trying not to cry. Not exactly sure why I'm holding back, probably just habit, a discipline I've forced on myself from years through the losses and hard stuff, and harder stuff, the anxiety, the depression, the joy. Anyway. In addition to absolutely drowning in emails from the 2 (two) schools our children now attend, requesting we attend the thirty-seventh orientation and buy uniforms, spirit wear, and school supplies, and touch base with the teachers, admin

He wasn't raised right and that's on me, and now it's too late He'll get lost on his way to school and end up joining a band of nomads living off the land instead of going to Intro to Band He makes it to school, but ends up wandering around, trying not to cry, a tiny 6th grader in a sea of mean adults (8th graders) He'll be the weird nerd He won't be enough of a weird nerd There are stairs He'll be too lazy OR too anxious and self-critical He'll find out all his clothes suck

Long story short: A year ago this month, I had a breast reduction that ended up with me stuck on the couch for 8 weeks with a giant, festering, open boob wound. During the process, I met a General Surgeon whom I now work for as a Physician Assistant! What? Universe, hello!? I guess everything worked out! My boobs are finally closed and mostly look decent, and it's all behind me. Tra-la-la! The longer, realer story is this: A year ago I had a breast reduction I'd been wanting