Been a little sad for the last few days. I’m not sure why. Maybe all this vehemence that I pour in to my blog gets to me. Maybe I’m just tired. I took a long nap this afternoon preparing for a 5 o’clock swim date with Small’s friend and then they canceled because their infant is sick. I wouldn’t have napped, I would have saved up the sleep and gone to bed at seven. This is something I’ve been known to do. My parents hate it.
My husband’s step-father is having his 80th birthday party in August. B’s sister is flying in. I don’t know where the rest of his kids are, but I’ll bet they were invited. We were not told about it. B says not to take it to mean something. I am trying not to – but why not even mention it? I’ve spoken to his mother specifically about plans in August and the party didn’t come up even in passing. Her husband’s eightieth birthday didn’t come up. I don’t talk to her all that often – it’s just not the way our (good, I thought) relationship works. I don’t know if we’d be able to go to the party or not, but why not make it our choice? I hate it when people try to make decisions for someone else. Let other people create their own boundaries. Let me create mine.
My daughter and I eat too much bread. She is the one person whom I must impose my will on her choices. Her choices are mine, right now, although I still try and give her the space to decide trivial things. I don’t want her to be unable to decide about bigger things later in life and I want her to be able to assert herself when it comes to choosing a restaurant or a date.