Go home, ovary--you're drunk!

Things I've learned thus far in 2019:

• Exclaiming with whichever seemingly appropriate intonation the phrase, "IT IS TWO THOUUUUSAND AND NINETEEN!" is a fantastic motivator to do or not do something. Try it. I'll wait.
• All this time I thought I was dancing with everyone and I've actually been dancing alone. Thanks, Latin Dance Night.
• Hormones are not done with me--Holy shit I feel like a basketcase horny animal when I ovulate. Women should talk about that more. Go home, ovary--you're drunk!
• Dating is hard with a kid. Dating is hard without a kid. Dating is hard. Dating. Hard.
• I can buy condoms and sex toys cuz I'm an adult.
• Podcasts are a very personal thing to some.
• Buying new bras and underwear that fit is a self-love must. They pretty, I pretty.
• I can work and paint and socialize while being a Mom.
• The thing I do where I teach kids to paint while painting is respectable, difficult, and not everyone can do it so I need to tip my tiny hat to myself. Just because something comes hella natural to me and I make shit look easy doesn't mean it's not actually difficult.  
• The turnaround time on card and ID replacement after losing a wallet is fucking bullshit.
• The time has passed to sleep when baby sleeps.
• Having a blog is millennial and I'm okay with that. Reminds me of the time I wrote a guidebook on how to date me... except this might be more long winded and depressing.
• I'm really glad I'm here for this amazing winter and not in Olympia, Washington in the rain and gray. I'll take white wonderland any day.
• Everyone is trying. I think.
• Prozac in the morning makes me nauseous. I miss weed.
• Why do repair men act like they're there to save the fucking day and feel the need to mansplain everything? Asking for a ME.
• Do not be fooled by the baby’s pre-poop poop. The one that reeks but is like a tiny brick. That’s just the cork, boo. Put another diaper on.
• The Reno Tarot will be something eventually.
• Halloween is coming and I get to paint parts of it.
• A book is in the works and I can't wait to piece the story together.
• My babe is gonna be one. ONE. 1!!!!
• I should’ve invested in one of those sweet 80’s mini workout trampolines instead of bouncing kiddo to sleep on my bed. Fahking wrecked my mattress.
• Do not give strange dudes your business card.
• There's a language of flowers and I wish we still spoke it.
• Dating is hard with a kid. Dating is hard without a kid. Dating is hard. Dating. Hard.

I've been trying new things.
I've been trying.
Not on purpose and not with feeling all the time, more like I'm forcing myself to expand the tiny box universe I live in. Maybe one inch at a text.
I tried Tinder. I tried Bumble. Went back to Tinder. Popped onto Plenty of Fish. Now I'm off everything. I was clean about a week and a half. Lonely, yes. Sad, yes. Ready to try again... yeah.
Even though it's crazy outside my house.
Wang is dangerous.

Sidenote:
Did I tell ya'll ha ha that my mom sent me a text asking what 'wang' was???
Highlight of the year.
Especially since I sent her a text gif response of Betty White jackin' a hot dog.
Ha!

Anyway... Here I was, carpe-ing my 2019 and proving my Mom wrong that I could, in fact, ''meet someone nice'' without leaving my house, when I realized it's really really really hard.

Dating over 30 is.... beyond hard. Everyone is so set in their ways, myself included. Us single folk want someone to fit in the spot we've carved out of our lives so perfectly, so tightly, and so precisely that we choke/stuff/cram our desired partner in there even if they don't fit. I wanted so much to fit in his cookie cutter that I didn't really realize I was slowly getting crammed into a cookie cutter. That's how it felt anyway. I'm not done upgrading to Mom yet and still have so much confusion over what and who I am, it's silly of me to try to be anyone's cookie.
I really wanted to be the right cookie.
*sigh*
Meeting someone from scratch and not imposing your hopes/fears/baggage/vaggage onto them is a struggle. What's a relationship red flag without it being violently tinged with the fear of crippling emotional baggage?
Is it me?
Is it him?
It's probably me.
That's what Old me would say.
Rinse. Repeat.

Defending and opening your heart at the same time is ludicrous?
Guarding your kiddo from all of the above is exhausting.
Finding time for anything outside this kid the last month has been daunting. It's been a snowy, indoor Dotty bender of almost a month straight with no moments to myself. I love it. I really do... but it would be nice to get to pluck my eyebrows or take a shit or be able to chew my food without squatting in the kitchen.