What doesn't kill me will make me...crazy, depressed, chronically ill, stronger?

It's 5:15am.

I'm up at this hour pumping milk because today is my birthday and K and I are going out for a few hours this afternoon. Honestly, I'd rather take little miss with us, but that's okay. We need alone time too, I suppose. The thing is, it is more work for me on a day when I'd like to relax.

It'll be fun though.

I've not been pumping on a regular basis, so my breasts are only producing enough milk for baby, so pumping bottles is difficult. I do pump a little each day for her cereal/puree, but not a bottle. I need to do this each day for a while to build my stash back up. I'm down to three bottles.

So, like every modern mama out there, I've asked for a juicer for my big 37th birthday. Yea, sure, right? Well, I'm serious. I'm making my health a priority to improve my life over all. I'd love one like the one below, but I'll probably have to get a less expensive one. Effective, for sure, but less expensive.


This one is nice and streamlined. Might be better for my small kitchen.


Anyway.
I'm 37 years old.
I can't believe I can count the number of years I have before hitting 40 on one hand. I know this has been the case for a couple of years, but I never THOUGHT about it before now. Now it is real.

What do I have to show for it?
~ 3 amazing children
~ 1 loving husband
~ my good health
~ a teaching certificate (that I'll likely never put to use again)
~ B. A.
~ a minimal closet
~ no makeup except mascara and liner
~ a pair of Pradas I wish I could sell, but they were last year's birthday gift
~ sun-damaged skin from too much tanning bed use in my 20s
~ a ceaseless desire to learn

My father sent me a birthday card. I left it laying on the ottoman, unopened for a full day before I decided to open it. It was the standard, "God bless you. Love, Dad and D." No special message. No "I'm sorry for what I did to you and your siblings." No "I'm sorry for what I did regarding your husband."

To wait for an apology is to wait an eternity, because he sees nothing wrong with his actions.

I watched a film called Forgiving Dr. Mengele the other day. I think maybe if Mrs. Kor could forgive him and the other Nazis for killing her entire family and torturing her and her twin sister, then MAYBE, just maybe I can forgive my father. Forgiving doesn't equate forgetting, nor does it mean I'd want to be around him. It simply means I'd be turning my mind and heart free from the anger and resentment I have.

You know, I'm also a little upset with my mother. I've lived in Cincinnati for over a year and she has never come to visit. She talks about it, of course, but she truly has no plans to come. I tried to visit her last week, but she had to work. She suggested Tuesday, but then sent me a message on Facebook saying she had to work, which is totally fine. What bothered me was I mentioned the weekend and she replied, "We have been doing things on the weekend."

Wow.
Really?

So, I'm just going to do my thing. If she wants to see me or the kids, she can invite us down. Of course in the meantime she'll be "sharing" all the pics I put on Facebook, as if she is the great, interested grandma. I have no idea why I'm surprised. Except for my boys (we lived with her for a while), she has been this type of Grandma to all of her grandchildren.

My father has been the same hypocrite since I was 11.

Yet I sit here amazed by them.

No, none of this. I'm not wasting anymore time in my head on them. It's not worth it. I've decided 2013 is my year. I'm taking it. It's mine. I'm going to see what wonderful things can happen when I take care of myself, put my family and friends way up on my priority list, and when I take a few chances. This is my year.

So, I'm going to try this forgiveness thing. NOT for them. Not to forget anything. I'm going to try it simply to "sell" the valuable real estate they occupy in my mind. This "real estate" could be better used for other things. Maybe it'll become an orphanage for all my abandoned ideas. Or a day spa for my hurt feelings.

For all the pumping, I got 3 ounces.
I'm using my manual pump, but still, this is not much. I'll try again later, maybe while Kathryn is nursing. That usually gets the milk going well.

Oh, PS....

Another reason I distrust the FDA:

ASPERTAME

I've always felt this way about it and have seldom drank a diet soda and NEVER allowed my children to drink them, or use the fake sugar crap.

www.tuberose.com

It was once banned, but politics and conflict of interest got it approved again in the 1980s, despite continued concerns about its possible (likely) link to cancer and holes in the brain. Government and the food industry should not be affiliated. How can one monitor the other if people have their pockets filled by both?

ASPERTAME TIMELINE

I wish I could say I'm proud to be an American. Wait...I guess that's not right to say, because I AM proud of the American idea. I'm trying to live it: free speech, being aware, speaking out, questioning the government. THIS is the American way. Of this I am proud. I'm proud to live in a country that was founded on such ideas.

I'm NOT proud of what she has become. America is but a mere shadow of itself now. I'm sad for America. I'm scared for Americans and I distrust our government.

There, I said it. Now I'm going to go to bed and eek out a bit more sleep so I don't greet my 37th birthday with sleep-deprived bags under my eyes.