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Friday Confessional: Public Bathrooms

pubtoiAlright, I have many neurosis, but I hate public restrooms. Most of you do, too, but not to the extent that I do. It’s not that I “can’t go” or anything like that.

I’m shy. That’s right. I’m shy.

I listen when you pee and I know you listen, too. Don’t pretend you don’t. It happens. There was one time an elderly woman was in the stall next to me making such serious fireworks that I snorted while I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

I’m immature, but it was hilarious.

So, when you sit in the stall next to me, I freeze up.

And here’s what I do.

I count to 13. Slowly.

I have no idea why it works, but it does. If I can count to 13, I can pee. It’s not the most compelling confession, but there you have it.

Jillian

Friday Confessional: I don’t know how to let him go

letting go of him I don’t know how to let him go. He’s not a baby anymore and it’s becoming more and more apparent that he’s growing up.

I remember the terror I felt the first time I realized that he no longer had the baby scent.

And then the first time he smelled. I mean really smelled. As in “go take a shower you smell.”

And the first time he actually met my mouth instead of my chin or my nose when he gave me a kiss.

And all the small things that I find myself now terrified of losing: his hand when he crosses the street, the goodnight kisses, when he falls asleep in our bed–his little hand searching for my shoulder and the sweet smiles in his sleep when I say his name and tell him I love him, the first time he’s embarrassed when I tell him I love him in front of his friends, or the first time he doesn’t rush to greet me when he comes home from school.

Every stage of his life has been my favorite. He’s my favorite. He’s always been my favorite. No one makes me laugh as hard as him. He has my sense of humor. Of course I’m going to think he’s hilarious. He’s thoughtful and serious and sensitive and laughs at fart jokes because they are hysterical. They are. I don’t care what you think. THEY ARE HYSTERICAL. Prudes.

I don’t know how to let him go. But I will because I love him with quiet desperation and care. And the day will come when he has to let me go, too. Loving someone means that you will eventually feel the loss that comes with letting go. And I’m scared to death.

Jillian

Friday confessional: People that sleep with their eyes open freak me out

eyes openIt’s true. People that sleep with their eyes open freak me right the flip out in a major way. There are 2 people in my house that sleep with their eyes open, at times, and one dog. What this does is convinces me, almost daily, that they have died in their sleep and I must shake them.

The progression goes something like this:

I notice the person is sleeping with their eyes open.

I watch for a while to make sure there is REM (rapid eye movement), where the eyes move back and forth slowly to indicate that the person has entered deep sleep.

I make faces at the person to see if they are really sleeping or trying to freak me out.

I laugh because they don’t know I’m making faces.

They may not breathe for a second.

Their eyes stop.

Oh no!

Wait.

Are they alive?

I shake them hard.

They snort, roll over, and have no idea I just woke them up from REM sleep.

I sigh happily that I can no longer see creepy open-eyed sleeping.

It freaks. me. out.

Jillian

Friday Confessional: Little confessions

chicken poxI have a bunch of small confessions that don’t warrant full entries, but are still confessions, nonetheless.

I hate mayonnaise.

I’ve never had the chicken pox. I’ve been vaccinated. Yay. I think.

Mail makes me inordinately happy. Especially packages. And my birthday is coming up. Ahem.

I often stay up to see if there is a potential woot-off on woot.

If I get a bad waitress at a restaurant, it will ruin my whole experience.

New car scent is awesome. I’ve also heard it can give you cancer, which may or may not be true.

If someone tries to bring food in my car, I will harangue them until they never want to ride in my car again.

I think that’s enough for now. That’s more than any of you wanted to know today, right?

Happy Friday!

Now, tell me YOUR secrets.

Jillian

Friday Confessional: Mini-confessionals

ssshLast week, I did mini-confessionals, and it seemed to go over well. I’ve got a whole moleskine page in my planner filled with blog ideas, so I think I’ll do one more of these to clear it up a bit so I can have some of my planner back. Also, I’m getting ready to go to Chicago for Labor Day weekend, and time is short. I’m ok with being lazy.

So, without further ado, my confessions:

I’m co-dependent on my family. When any of us goes out of town or to visit family, the rest of us are mopey the entire time. Leon travels a lot for this job, which means that AJ and I spend a bit of time being moody. Believe it or not, the pets get that way, too. The only being in the house that isn’t moody or mopey is the cat. Go figure.

I’m territorial. If I could pee on my blog to mark it as mine, I would. The only time I’m not territorial is with my clients. I do what’s best for them. Otherwise, if it’s mine, it’s mine.

I hate shoes, especially dress shoes. If I’m at home, I rarely wear them. I prefer sneakers and flip flops to any other kind of shoes and I’ve chosen two professions within my field in which I can wear sneakers every day. I’ve got it covered.

When I tell my son he’s the coolest boy in the world, I truly mean it. No one else makes me laugh the way he does.

I went to a fortune teller once. She told me I’d have 3 children and live to 83. I don’t believe either, but I’m ok with both.

I hate dressing up. I recently went to a wedding where someone I saw at least twice a week for 3 years at church services said “this is the first time I’ve seen you in a dress.” I do believe she was telling the truth.

I’m only buying shirts in jewel tones from here on out. I was told this week that yellow makes me look “fresh” and other jewel toned shades make me look good. TWICE in ONE WEEK. Jewel tones. That’s it.

Before I started my practicum, I honestly worried that I couldn’t be around other people’s children all day and be happy. After one full day of observing them, I adore them like crazy. I even have my own mini-stalker. She’s precious and asked when I’d be back to observe her classroom again. PRECIOUS.

Other people’s kids, once you’ve grown attached to them, don’t stop being “your kids.” I discovered this at last Friday’s scrimmage game where AJ’s team played other teams against his old teammates. When I would yell for them and encourage them, the other parents from our team would look at me like I’d just farted on them and walked away. Whatever. Those are still “my kids.” Screw you.

Whew. That’s enough. My soul is bare for today.

Now, share some of yours with me!

Jillian
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About Me
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
Contact me

jillian@blueshelled.com
P.O. Box 252, Franklin, TN 37064

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