My daughter is a cheerleader.

This kid is ENTIRELY too perky for me first thing on a Saturday morning. Today’s the homecoming game – so she’s even more hyper than normal. Nervous, hyper, annoying to the nth degree.

I love her and I’m SO glad she loves cheerleading this much, but couldn’t they schedule the games for a more civilized hour? Actually, scratch that. It would never be held at a civilized hour, for as much as I love watching her cheer, I *despise* watching football. And on top of hating to watch football, I hate to watch the parents of these boys on the team go into epileptic fits screaming at their sons. I’m pretty positive that it’s the job of the coach to yell at these boys – providing they need a yelling-at.

I need more coffee.

Don’t’cha hate it when

reality smacks you in between the eyes? Even if my youngest’s father did happen do come back in the picture, I don’t think I can trust him. Yes, I spend a lot of time dwelling on this. It bothers me ALMOST as much as the fact that I’m 33 and living with my parents goddess help me. Getting dropped I could handle…being ignored completely is taking some serious getting used to. I did a pretty good job of not thinking of him during the pregnancy, but this child looks so much like him it’s heartbreaking. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking on my part…I’ll never know. I will just have to hope that if my son ever finds his father, that he’s not too hurt by the exchange. That his father won’t be an asshole to him.


I did a single card draw for two different people, who now think I’m good. On one hand I think it’s funny that so much weight can be ascribed to a card. On the other hand, I’ve come to realize that the very randomness of the card picked gives weight to it being the actual card meant to be read.

I’ve shuffled my deck many many times, only to go to pull a card and have it not feel *right*, so I go back to shuffling.

I think I’m going to create a spreadsheet for the card readings I do for myself.

Blah. Absolute blah. I’m so

Blah. Absolute blah. I’m so tired.

Is it truly possible to want to take a vacation from your children and yet want more children at the same time? I feel like a psycho typing that, but it’s true. I occasionally feel a girl’s spirit around me, and with my daughter asking for a baby sister…..who knows.

But I want to take a vacation from the 3 I have now. I love them to pieces, honestly, I do. I need a break, a chance to regroup, an opportunity to sit and be calm and actually *think*. 90% of the things I do these days are reactionary – I don’t really get an opportunity to truly think things through. What would I think about? Well, lessee….

Do I really want to try for another relationship or just call it quits?

Will my children *really* be OK with just me as their parent?

What, exactly, do I want to do with my life?

Daydreaming again

I have a very active imagination, and could logically spend hours daydreaming. I have conversations that I’d like to have with people that I haven’t talked to in years. I say all the things that I think of after the fact when that person at the store leaves me speechless. I say all the things to the fathers of my children that I can’t say to their faces.
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Ranting on perfectionism.

I heard it so many times in my childhood…”You could be SO smart if you wanted to.” or “If you’d only APPLY yourself, you could make straight A’s”

I heard it as a teen. “You can do anything you want to do.” or worse.

Does anyone realize that telling a child “You can do anything, be anything” can be overwhelming to the point of depression? ESPECIALLY if that child is a perfectionist?
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Why oh why did I choose the name Dottiness? you ask

I wanted to name this blog Tink’s Insanity, Sanitarium, or some other name indicating my usual state of mind, but it seems that *everyone* is insane or belongs in a crazy house. I went to Hyperdictionary and looked up sanitorium, but it wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I looked up insanity, and lo and behold! in the list of related terms (thesaurus) was dottiness.

I had an aunt named Dottie (she passed away a few years ago) and out of all the aunts on that side of the family, she was my favorite. So I click on it
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Don’t Shake the Tree – Epilogue

Between the birth of my first and the birth of my last child lie 10 years. Obviously some details have been left out – but the basic story is there. Yes, their stories are prejudiced against their fathers somewhat…but this is not their blog and it’s not about them. It’s about me and things as I see them.

I realize that there are some issues regarding fathers that I need to work out.
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