Childbirth...

It sure feels different when the baby you are (hopefully) about to deliver is 18 years old.

My gods this has been a long time coming. Almost three years. She went away a child and she is coming back a young woman. All the rules have changed and it makes me nervous and anxious and scared and hopeful and excited and a thousand+ other emotions that are so jumbled up that I cannot even name them.

Truthfully, I was a mess when she left. I was barely handling my own life and was struggling to handle hers too. I failed in a lot of ways I think, but I like to also think that I succeeded in a few very important ones. *shrug* At least I HOPE that I did.

*sigh*

Poor Dennis. I've appointed him as The Reality Check. The guy, when I get all wound up and control freak-y, who is going to remind me that I'm supposed to be treating adults like adults and to back off. I think this is going to work. I really do. I love and respect him and given his laid back yet responsible and loving nature, I think he is the perfect candidate for the job.

We will just be three adults living like roommates and friends - after all the kinks are worked out of course, because every new household will have it's random "bumps". But I am hoping that this will all work out *crosses fingers* and we will all be able to coexist happily like a little family. And I think that sounds pretty darn nice.

The Big Day

So tomorrow is the big day. The day the parents finally meet the boyfriend. Gah. I'm excited and nervous and also? Wondering how in the hell I pulled this madness off.

Seriously.

Not only have Dennis and I been dating for nearly three years now, we've been living together for over a year and regularly traipse about town hand in hand. By any and all laws of probability, someone ought to have seen us together at least a year and a half ago and informed my parents leading to a lot of awkward questions including "why have we not met him yet".

At this rate, I'll have been dead a week before anyone notifies them that I've died.

Anywho.

Tomorrow is the big day. And it's taking place on Catalina Island. And the plans for the day include a round of Miniature Golf and a trip to the Wrigley Botanical Gardens. And dinner with my parents at the house.

*shudder*

Did I mention that I was nervous yet?

Skurred.

Ok, so, not really. Just a little bit of The Nervous.

Dennis and I have been together for almost three years now and my parents and the rest of my family have still not met him. But all this will be changing on Saturday when we hop on a boat to Catalina and go for a visit.

My mom is worried that I've made them out to be monsters (they're not) and that is why Dennis is nervous but that's not even close to it. In fact, I don't think he is even all that nervous really. Mostly, I am the one who is nervous. And not because I think Dennis will not measure up because even if he didn't (which isn't even a remote possibility) it doesn't even matter.

I love him.

And he makes me happier than I have ever been.

And those two things are more important that anything that my parents may or may not think of him. Thing is though? I know that I have disappointed them terribly, and I don't want their disappointment in me to spill over onto him and for him to be disappointing by proxy, if that makes any sort of sense at all.

*shrug*

GAH. I really need to stop thinking/worrying/stressing so much and just let things be.

Quickly...

Being broke isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be or worth the seriously spooky feeling I've had since last week over the Finality of It All. It is DEFINITELY going to suck not having my Chevron card anymore though because the price of gas is killing me since DAMN, DO I DRIVE A LOT. I will probably put more than 300 miles on my wagon this weekend alone. Honestly, were not for the fact that the goofy little thing gets retardedly good gas mileage?

I'd probably be crying right now over the ashes over said Chevron card. *weep*

All that said though, I am not going to be one of those people I see on the news who decide where they can or cannot go based upon the price of gas. Life is too fucking short and Dennis and I have got the most wonderful of friends who happen to live nearly an hour away (not to mention how far we drive to play with them at Renaissance Faire) and I'm not going to let something as fleeting as a dollar sign dictate how much fun I am allowed to have or where I am allowed to have it, because yo.

Life is too damn short for any of THAT crazy talk.

There will ALWAYS be more money, you can bet on it and win ever time. There may not however, always be more TIME.

Here goes...

So here I am, at the new blog. *waves*

If you are reading this, then I guess you are too. I'm not sure what to write just yet, but I am sure that eventually, something worth writing - and reading - will come to me and there it will be.

Eventually.