Every month, I’m struck by the urge to announce the fact that I’m not pregnant. Perhaps I want to shout out that I was successfully responsible. Perhaps I want to celebrate the fact. Perhaps it’s just the immense relief that I feel when I know I’m not pregnant.

But this month, a funny thing happened as I approached my favorite visitors return. I didn’t freak out with worry that it wouldn’t. I usually have at least one day where I’m a little freaked out. I would worry that I didn’t take my birth control at the EXACT same time every day. I would have a mini panic attack as I pictured myself having to explain the situation to Long Board. And I was almost surprised every time I wasn’t pregnant.

What’s so different this month? Well, for the past two months I’ve been rocking the NuvaRing – which I LOVE. Honestly. I think it’s just the most delightful birth control I’ve ever had the pleasure of using.

Now, the first month I used it I wasn’t so confident….(Warning: TMI ahead!) Most days, I would get paranoid that it would travel somewhere deep into my person where it would never be found without the use of a headlamp. I mean, Long Board owns a headlamp (that one in fact) but I the thought of inviting him to do a search and rescue isn’t high on my list of priorities. Anyway, in an effort to reassure myself that the Ring hadn’t wandered, I’d do a little excavation of my own. Sure enough, there it was every time.

I also was a little paranoid about Doing the Adult the first month. The first couple of times, I would discreetly sneak to the bathroom and remove it before activities. Then, one morning, I didn’t feel like running off when Long Board started an impromptu wrestling match. So I left it in, crossing my fingers that there it would stay and that he wouldn’t be surprised when he was the winner in NuvaRing Toss. Psh, he never noticed the blasted thing. So much that he was surprised when I finally told him about the change in birth control.

SO, all that to say: I LOVE what NuvaRing’s doing for me because I don’t have to worry about the daily dose. And I know that I’m doing it right and that any mistake isn’t going to be from “user error.” I’m living up to my due diligence.

But my consistent and reliable birth control doesn’t seem to be the only factor in this change of heart….I just feel…..different.

I don’t know. I certainly don’t WANT to become pregnant right now! I have a basically unemployed potential Baby Daddy that lives 90 miles away and a job that’s barely making the bills as it is. It would not be an ideal situation to say the least.

But, for the first time ever, it’s not one that literally paralyzes me with fear.

For the first time ever, I don’t get nauseous just thinking about telling a guy that I’ve got his baby inside of me (and yes, this is something that I run through in my head with every guy I’ve slept with since Cupcake was conceived).

For the first time ever, I don’t just know that I WOULD keep my baby, but I feel confident that everyone would be happy and excited and it would be a real pregnancy experience.

Would my Mom be disappointed? Sure. But she knows I love Long Board and that he’d be in this.

Would Long Board be shocked? Absolutely! But this would just be a fast forward, not a blindside. Hell, he’s got his top boy and girl name picked out and talks about us having kids all of the time. And I know that he’d be scared and nervous and, sure, potentially upset at first. But I think he’d come out on the other end excited.

And now THOSE are the things that scare the crap out of me!

I’ve recently watched Cyber Bestie navigate the road from preventing pregnancy to planning pregnancy, and listened to her warnings about how weird it was to “pull the goalie” and actually TRY to get pregnant. I’ve followed Susie as she experiences her second pregnancy and seen how she’s approaching things so differently. And it’s odd to see me, in my own way, taking some of those steps….

Now, make no mistake.

No “goalie” will be pulled.

No plans for a baby will be made.

No “accidental” leaving out the NuvaRing for more than the allowed three hours to see what would happen.

But I can breathe. I don’t live with the deep and intense fear of pregnancy. I feel a little released from my own paranoia.

And I feel really good knowing that it’s because of where I am today.

Thanks to Andy, that is! :) Andy received (and rightly so!) the Cherry on Top Award from Coco (who also rocks!) and generously passed it onto me, which is where we are today.

SO, without further adieu, I’ll play along with the rules of accepting such award:

1) Thank the person who gave you the award.
As if I had to be instructed! Andy is delightful. She’s a fantabulous Mom to Liam – a creative baker, craft organizer, and party planner. My dream is to one day crash her Oscar Party instead of just drool at the food through my computer screen. Also, I’m wildly appreciative of her perspective as an adoptee, as an adoptive Mom, and also as a wonderful woman that’s been able to provide insight when I needed it most.

2) Insert award into post

Um, PS, this award straight up has CUPCAKES on it. So, yeah, I love it!

3. Name 3 things you like about yourself.
Umm………

1. I like that I allow myself to be funny and silly and enjoy life. I like that I can make being locked in a car for nine hours with Long Board into an enjoyable experience for both of us. I like that I bring out the silly in him in that way. Some of that has to do with my sense of humor (which I also enjoy) and some of it has to do with my approach to life. Either way, I like it!
2. I like that I can do my makeup in about a minute and a half. Seriously. Like, all of it. Quick run over of powder, lightspeed dash of eyeshadow, a leisurely mascara run so as not to poke out my eye, and a slap of lipgloss. LOVE IT.
3. I’m crafty. I just wish I had the time to commit to being more crafty more often! I made Long Board some coupons for his birthday and a scrapbooked calendar for our anniversary and they turned out really nice! I actually surprised myself! And I had fun doing it! Now if only scrapbook materials grew on trees and there were like 27 hours in a day……

4. Post a photo that you love.

Mmm – I just love this picture of my little Cupcake. I love her whispy hair pulled up, her distracted big brown eyes, her little smile, and the peek of a halter top. Sweetness with just a hint of adventure and wild.

5. Tag 5 people to pass the award on to.

1. Alissa @ A+A Adopt a Baby - Alissa is rockin’ awesome and hers is one of the first blogs I check on, and not because alphabetically she’s near the top of my blogroll
2. Jen @ A Nickel’s Worth of Common Sense - I fall in love with Jen over and over again every time she writes about open adoption. Sometimes this means I have the desire to kiss her on the mouth. Which, I restrained myself from doing when I got to meet her (yay!), an event I have yet to blog about, but really should.  (Note: Jen did already receive this award from Coco – which I didn’t realize when I first put her down – but I’m not taking her off because I love her too dammit! And I stand by my reasons So there!)
3. Susie @ Endure for a Night - mmmm Susie! She writes BEAUTIFULLY about her life as Cricket’s first Mom and the Little Bird’s Mommy, navigating being both, and about everything surrounding those experiences. Also, she makes awesome candy. So, yeah.
4. Amanda @ Words of Weary Memories That I Can Always See - Amanda and I have an interesting relationship because we’re pretty close in age but relate to each other through our experiences as First Mom and adoptee. We don’t always agree, but I always appreciate what she has to say. She’s opinionated and respectful – the most winning of combinations!
5. Katja @ Therapy is Expensive - Like me, she supresses some stuff, but listen to me K: What you have to say is SO important!!! You have a great voice and people should hear it. ((((hugs)))) (PS we still have to work on that little project I talked to you about….)

Thanks again for the nod Andy! And if it hadn’t come from you, it would be heading TO you right now!

Among the many random things that Long Board and I have in common (fear of clowns, dislike of sour cream, intense hatred of feet), we both have cousins that came to the family via adoption.

In my family, “adopted” is not a prefix to “cousin” in these situations. I suppose I’m one of those that “forgets” they’re adopted. Not always, sometimes it slaps me in the face and overwhelms me. But they’re not my “adopted cousins” they’re just my cousins.

The dynamic was a little…..different in Long Board’s family.

There was a cousin (that wasn’t there) that was, in hushed tones, adopted.

There was another cousin that came by one night and told stories of her family – telling a tale about a pair of siblings that never really connected to their Dad. Of course, this was explained away by saying they were a little “off,” and elaborated further by noting that they were both adopted.

Long Board didn’t contribute to any of this, so the one person that I would have felt comfortable standing up to wasn’t really an offender. He certainly didn’t wage a battle to correct anyone, but he possibly didn’t see anything wrong with it either.

Though I don’t like to admit it, I certainly didn’t say anything.

It’s not my family.

It’s not my place.

I’ve just met these people and I’m in the process of getting them to like me, to see me as someone that will hopefully be part of the reunion five years from now as a member of the family. So who am I to barge in and correct them on their adoption language? There were aparents and adoptees, and I didn’t feel it was the time or place for the first Mom/girlfriend of family superstar Long Board (he’s like a God to his family right now for organizing this reunion) to jump in and rain on everyone’s parade.

So I didn’t.

But I didn’t feel good about that either.

It was one of the first times where I really felt confused about how to voice something. I’m a fiesty little devil with my family and friends. I’ll take it to Long Board if he says something that’s offensive. And often, people assume I’m doing it because (a) they know me and that’s how I am, (b) I love to debate, and (c) I’m pretty big on fair/accurate/appropriate language across the board – not just in adoption situations. 

I just wasn’t prepared for it with this crowd.

When I was in college I was in a performance troupe and we did performances for social change all over the country. We had a scene in which there’s a person that’s crashing at a friends house. The friend is doing them a favor letting them stay there for an extended period of time. The friend brings another friend over, who engages in making racist jokes, comments, etc.

The task is to then find the language to confront that person. You’re in a situation where you’re already at a loss regarding power. You’re reliant on the person. How far will you go in that situation?

I was good at that scene.

We had audience members come up and take the role of the offended roommate that confronts the friends. It was their rehearsal for life – when these things hit us when we least expect them.

Where was my scene on adoption? Where was my dress rehearsal for this? 

It will be a while before I’m in that environment again. It will be a while before that particular group of people has the opportunity to rattle me on that subject. But it’s certainly given me something to think about.

I’m back from vacation. I had a wonderful time, made some awesome memories, took some amazing pictures, and have a story or two stored up in this pea brain for you! So rather than do a big “Hey everyone, I’m back from vacation, here’s a 4,000 word recap” type post, I’m just going to go on pretending like I never took a bloggy break, okay? Good.

For the 4th of July weekend, Long Board and I went to his grandparents cabin in the Sequoias. It was beautiful and calm and a good way to get to know these relatives of his, whom I’d never met. LB had warned me before the trip that Grandma can be a bit…..judgemental. That she’s never liked any of his ex girlfriends. But that he usually only finds out after they’re no longer in the picture, so I’m fine.

This did not exactly bolster my confidence.

Our first night at the cabin, we celebrated Long Board’s birthday. A few days early, we made him a big dinner, lit candles, and ate cake. I made myself useful schucking corn and find a connection with Grandma. As dinner was served, Long Board grabbed white mugs off of the wall bearing the names of the three “regulars” at the cabin: Long Board, Grandma, and Grandpa.

He also grabbed a green mug: “Guest #2″

My eyes scanned the large wall where mugs for the family were housed. His father, uncles, aunts, cousins, sisters, brother and in-laws were all there.

Then there was the other mug: Allison.

My brain didn’t have to review Long Board’s family tree frantically searching for an “Allison” that belongs to the cup. No, that wouldn’t be necessary. My mind (correctly) went to the same “Allison” whose name riddles the “Guest Log” the grandparents have kept for two decades. The “Allison” that spent four years dating my Long Board.

I didn’t allow my eyes to linger on the mug for longer than necessary.

***********

The next morning, while Long Board visited the outhouse (side note: there is a regular bathroom in the cabin; Long Board just loves that blasted outhouse), Grandpa was brushing his teeth in the kitchen sink using the bottled stream water and mentioned to Grandma that there had to be a mug with a name they could wipe off.

Grandma responded with a quick, “Already got it Herb” – using a tone that said, ‘drop it.’

I looked up casually, and sure enough, a bare mug hung on the post that previously housed the now infamous “Allison” mug.

***********

I didn’t talk to Long Board about the mug.

I didn’t talk to Long Board about the Guest Book.

Until last night.

Last night we were having a discussion about jealousy and possessiveness. I…..reluctantly admit that I’m a tiny bit jealous and possessive when it comes to Long Board. He said that it was okay, because I’m obviously not that jealous or possessive because he’s never noticed it. Also, it’s probably healthy to be just a dash of those things.

But what I’ve come to realize is that I’m not jealous of the present, I’m jealous of the past. I’m jealous of the memories that these girls before me made with him. That they were there when he was in college. There when he got excited about getting into grad school. There for him when he was processing some stuff with his parents. In some bizarre way I greive what I missed – what I had to miss – at a time when I didn’t even know Long Board existed.

Slightly confused because there are no Ghosts of Boyfriends Past constantly rearing their ugly heads that affect him, he needed more concrete examples.

I told him about the mug.

I told him about the guest book.

He had hoped I wouldn’t have noticed those things.

His name in the guest book right above hers. Him writing about what he did that weekend at the cabin, and she contributing much of the same.

The way her name was literally erased to make room for mine.

It’s a weird thing to process, but we made great headway last night. And I know that those are paths that Long Board had to take to get him to where he is today. To get us to where we are today. And where we are is pretty freaking awesome. So I’ll take it.

And I’m pretty pleased that I won’t have to be Guest #2 next time either.

I haven’t had a chance to do a write-up of my weekend with Long Board’s grandparents – and I will! – but the short version is that it went really well.

And they like me! They really like me!

Which was a HUGE load off.

So I took a couple days. I breathed my sighs of relief. Then I realized that I had to pack my suitcase so that I could drive to Colorado for Long Board’s family reunion, where I would meet his Mom.

So here I am, writing my last post before the trip.

Be prepared for a couple of weeks of blog-silence as we camp across a few states, hit up a water park, hopefully visit a cyber friend, meet the family, go white water rafting, and camp our way home.

Oh, and if you think about it next Wednesday – wish me luck!!!!!

Last week, I received a mass email. Perhaps some of you received the same one. It was a request for the support of an adoptive Mother who was being challenged in the adoption of her daughter by the biological Father. Reading it, I quickly became uncomfortable. It was obviously one-sided, and it just didn’t seem right. A quick Google search was able to provide a little of the other side of the story.

I emailed back and forth with a couple other people that received the same mass email, and that also took some serious issue with it’s call for help while providing misleading information.

I was going to ignore the issue and leave it at that. Other people had addressed the issue. And I didn’t feel like I could say it much better.

Today, I sat down and Googled the name of the prospective adoptive Mother to see what Friday’s court had ruled. But what struck me about the case wasn’t the ruling, it’s the way these cases are routinely handled. So I apologize for being vague and confusing and not really writing about this specific case – but that’s not what’s really gripping me today. I look at this case, the lawyers tactics, the media’s portrayal, and I just see the strategies that are used time and time again and I get so….frustrated. Annoyed. Sad.

I pulled a local article about the court’s decision. The article is officially titled, “Ruling Goes Against Adoptive Mother” (meaning that the child would be put into foster care with birth grandmother while court is moved from Southern California to Ohio, where the little girl was born). However, the browser bar reads: “Mom vs. alleged abuser over adopted baby.”

Well THAT’S nice and unbiased!

People say that language doesn’t matter. That sticks and stones are what break your bones. But like parading a man out in an orange jumpsuit, this birthfather isn’t ever given a chance. Because he’s not “Dad” he’s “alleged abuser.”

I guess “withholding prospective adoptive parent vs. Dad” didn’t have the same ring to it….

Because mind you, the baby’s adoption was never finalized.

Mind you, the birth father went to the hospital as soon as he knew his daughter was born.

Mind you, the birth father has been contesting the adoption since the very beginning.

Which brings us to the ever present issue of timelines.

There’s a very effective strategy that I keep seeing over and over and over again. That, of course, is “stall, stall, stall!” I’m not going to say that this child might not be better off with the woman that’s been her Mother for the past two years. But what NEVER seems to be addressed is that the Mother created the situation by going along with the lawyers unethical stall tactics.

What more was this Father supposed to do???

He showed up as SOON as he knew his daughter existed. He submitted to a DNA test immediately (results took four months). Then “legalities” allowed for two years of stalling.

During which time the lawyers put their heads together and come up with the Ace in their sleeve. The argument that will seal a win for them: The daughter has been with the Mother this whole time!

Uh….obviously! Because you stalled so that it would be that way!!!

Look – this isn’t about this particular birth Father. I “get” that there are issues here, which I admit, I’ve skimmed over. And I do that because it’s not about THIS case. It’s about all of these cases where harmful language and stall techniques are used to keep biological family members away and to ruin the chances of being reuinited in cases of coercion, etc.

I REALLY tried to let this go last week, but the headlines I read today prevented me from doing so.

I’ll be following this particular story to see how it unfolds, but no matter what happens, these strategies have got to stop.

I’ve been thinking a lot about why I feel so damn silly talking about this stupid anniversary thing. Apparently, it’s quite normal to acknowledge that you’ve been with someone for a year, but for me? It feels so incredibly foreign. I mean, I’ve never done this before! This is uncharted territory. So I was pretty ready to just not bring it up today. I figure I can always save the scrapbook calendar I’ve been working until Long Board’s birthday next week……

But when I woke up I had this text message waiting for me.

Happy anniversary from afar! Kisses for you my mermaid

Timestamped at 5:43, I laughed at my mermaid-obsessed nerd and sent him one back. Mostly wondering why the hell he was up so damn early!

I had assumed (wrongly apparently) that the day was off his radar. We’ve spoken about it, went out to dinner the other night with the group he was with when we met and acknowledged it then, but our plans for today are SO low key (as in virutally non-existant; he will be arriving at my house at 9pm so we don’t hit traffic on our three hour drive – that’s it), I thought it just wasn’t registering with him.

But it is.

And it’s a lot for me to acknowledge it.

Sometimes I forget how far I’ve come this year….

I got an email from my old Roomie yesterday and she confirmed, and brought to light, a lot of this. She’s friends with me on Facebook, and follows the blog now and then so that she can catch up on what’s new with me. And she said she was strangly proud of me. And that was cool. To have someone notice the growth that I’ve had as a person – not just this year, but in the past few years. But to grow myself, and with someone else….it’s a whole new experience for me.

So I guess it’s okay to celebrate that today.

Even if I do feel silly and if it does kinda make me wanna barf…..

It is with GREAT pleasure that I tentatively, and unofficially, announce that my boss, The Moron, is (probably) no longer employed by my employer.

I don’t know all the details, but here’s what I know that facilitated my cautious jumping to conclusions:

1) She’s a moron and this has been a long time coming.

2) My employer laid off 16 employees. All affected staff were notified yesterday. There has been no public announcement of who these staff are.

3) My boss had a meeting at our regional office yesterday morning. It was a sudden and unscheduled meeting, and I know of no one else that attended.

4) Upon returning to my office yesterday, my boss took a half day and left at 1:30. She was not required to complete or submit a leave form as her time off was “okayed by our regional vice president.” This does not happen. Ever.

5) I’ve heard from multiple sources, in different departments, at different levels that my boss was one of the sixteen. I will note that none of these people directly supervise her, so I suppose it could all be speculaton.

6) But I don’t think it is speculaton. I feel it in my bones. I’m due for this kind of good news.

Having said all of that, I’m not planning the parade QUITE yet. But once I get the official word? Keep your ears open for the marching band and eyes in the skies for fireworks. They’re not just for the Forth people.

What a wonderful Hump Day…..

And if you’d like, keep your fingers crossed that #s 1-6 mean there’s an opening in my department, where TG would get a promotion and a raise!!!

Eta: No longer tentative, no longer unofficial! Strike up the band and bust out the fireworks a few days early! THE MORON IS GONE!!!! No word on if I get a pay increase yet, but I DO get her office!

I recently got into a discussion (debate?) online regarding the term “parent” and what it means to all of us in the triad. Mainly the question: If one isn’t parenting, can one be a parent?

All three sides of the triad weighed in and the answers were as varied as the participants. Definitions were shared and debated. Personal experiences were offerred up as reasons to legitimize the title or to take it away.  People settled into their camps, deciding on the vocabulary that worked best for them and their situation.

Some folks were offended by a perceived exclusivity of the role. A (phantom?) belief that if Dee is Cupcake’s Mom then I cannot be or vice versa.

So for the record: I do not for a minute believe that I am Cupcake’s one and only parent. To me, that idea is preposterous. Dee is her parent! Dee is her Mom! But I believe that doesn’t wipe out my participation entirely. I believe there’s still room for me in some sort of parental arena. For me, TPR means terminating parental rights, not terminating the experience of being a parent.

I carried my daughter for nine months. I brought her into the world. I made parental decisions on a daily basis before Cupcake was born. After she was born I made decisions as a parent. I held her, changed her diaper, fed her, cared for her, loved her. And I was confident in the ultimate parental decision that I couldn’t provide everything she needed. I was a parent. I had to make a hard decision. I was scared and nervous and tired and I did what I thought was best at the time. Isn’t that the quintescential definition of a parent?

I always find it interesting that I was a wonderful enough “parent” to make that decision….and that once it was made I suddenly didn’t even deserve the title of “parent.”

One of the statements that came up that stayed with me the most was:

The parental relationship is severed because the psychological, emotional and physical investment that a parent puts into raising a child isn’t there (the intmate relationship that happens between parent and child).

This stung me in a way that I wasn’t sure how to process. To say that those investments aren’t there is such a presumption, and one that I just felt wasn’t anywhere near accurate. I will concede to the phsyical investment. I am not there physically on a daily basis for Cupcake, living that parental role day in and day out.

But psychologically? Emontionally? If I’m not invested in her in those ways, then I don’t know how else to address what happens to me….

When there’s an earthquake, I have a fear that resides in my chest and I feel the instinct to reach out to Dee and make sure that Cupcake is okay. When we’re at a visit and Cupcake falls at the park my heart jumps into my throat until I know she’s okay. When she walks too far ahead and a crowd of people obstructs her from my view, I fight off a panic attack.

I’ve experienced every single one of these things with my neices and my nephews that I love very, very much. But I’ve NEVER experienced the reactions I have when they happen to Cupcake. The only way that I can understand that is because she’s my daughter. Because I’m her parent.

But people that haven’t experienced placement….I fear I can’t describe the emotions to them accurately….Like those changes that everyone says will happen to you when you become a parent? They HAPPEN when you have a child – even when you place them for adoption.

Today, I hear people say to me all the time, “You’ll understand when you’re a parent.” And I think, but I DO understad….I feel those things. My life has changed in a way that can never change back – not because of Cupcake’s placement exclusively, but because of her birth. Because of being a parent.

But I do understand that I’m not parenting.

I do understand that some people can’t seperate the verb from the noun. That parenting must be present in order to be a child’s parent.

I understand that Cupcake may choose not to see me as a parent. And I will support her no matter how she chooses to define me.

But no matter how Dee defines me, how Cupcake defines me, how my Adoptionland debating partners define me, I still feel like a parent.

So am I a parent, but not exactly Cupcake’s parent?

Is that a term that people would be okay with?

Is there a difference?

I don’t know……more to think about on this one I suppose…..

…That is Susie’s question.

Yes, It’s time for another OA Roundtable (or perhaps past time really, I just couldn’t bring myself to respond on Adoption Free Friday), this prompt courtesy of my friend Susie over at Endure for a Night:

Are there any things that you don’t want the other members of your triad to know—or that you don’t want to know about them? I’ve heard first mothers talk about not sharing their birth stories with adoptive parents because those are for the adoptees and for themselves only. I’ve also heard of adoptees concealing their reunions from adoptive parents so as not to cause them pain. What don’t you want shared in your adoptive relationships?

First, I am one of those first Mom’s Susie mentioned that hasn’t shared the birth story – not really – with Cupcake’s Mom. Partially, I suppose, is because she’s never asked about the details. She knows that we got through it and that Cupcake was healthy and perfect, and I think that’s all that she really wanted to know in the beginning. Back then, I probably would have answered all of her questions, been an open book, but since then, I’ve decided that it is our story and one that I would very much like to share with Cupcake myself. I’ve conceded that might be a selfish desire, and perhaps I’ll reasses my stance one day, but that’s how I feel today.

I also have not shared the two pictures that we took at the hospital. These polaroids are precious to me, and are another thing I look forward to sharing with Cupcake directly.

Other than that? I’m not sure what I’m really holding back. I’m a quasi open book I guess….I suppose that I don’t really share any of the ugly parts with Dee. How hard it can be leadig up to a visit, after a visit, in general. I do this not because I choose to keep that side from her, but more because I’ve taken her hints that she’s not into hearing about that. When we met the first time, with the SW there as a buffer, I was asked (I don’t recall by which one of them) how I was doing. I might have said something that indicated it wasn’t all roses and rainbows because I remember Dee declaring that she doesn’t feel any guilt about adopting Cupcake (nor would I want her to!!) and that those emotions are for me to figure out, and while she’s sorry if I have them they really don’t have any place with her and Cupcake.

Which I get, but it felt weird at the time.

She’s just an “I don’t make apologies for who I am or what I’ve done when I’ve done nothing wrong” kind of gal. Which is fine. But it does make me feel like I need to keep some things close to the vest. I certainly wasn’t trying to put anything on her at the time, and I wouldn’t want that now. Perhaps things have changed, but back then it felt like she wasn’t able to participate in me sharing information and experiences without becoming defensive or feeling implicated.

So, to save us from that, I suppose I do keep that part of the journey from her.

I also keep criticisms of any sort away.

Brandy said

 I guess, the basic answer is that I don’t talk about the bad stuff – or stuff that could be confused as bad.* I find I’m not often honest about my feelings related to certain topics, like never getting pictures…

*Bolded by me.

And I guess I could have saved a lot of eReal Estate by just stealing that sentence and putting it at the very beginning of this post. Because she hits the nail on the head with that one.

Especially with the bolded section. It’s not just about what the actual bad is….it’s about everything that could be miscontrued. Because without really solid communication, miscommunications become….complicated.

And complicated is “ugly” and I probably wouldn’t talk about it anyway (see above). SO, in order to avoid that dangerous Catch-22, I just avoid the bad and the potentially perceived as bad.

As for what I don’t want to hear about? I might have to do another post on that one after some more thought…..

***********

Read the other OA Roundatble contributions over at Production Not Reproduction!