memories, dreams, and reflections

a while ago, i figured that this blog had seen its last and it was time to retire it. after all, i didn't have the time anymore to sit and listen to my subconscious and, really, to be quite honest i'd never seen nor heard hide nor hair of a baby in the Menstrual Temple of the Funky Grail.

not to mention i was planning on starting up a parenting blog, and i tend to drop the F-bomb on this blog quite often when it fits. when i'm in a pique, i tend to drop F-nuclear-bombs. sometimes five times in a sentence when i'm really on a roll.

and F-bombs are quite unbecoming of a crunchy, modern aboriginal mama.

however, i miss this blog. thank you, good-bye, end of story.

i.

miss.

this.

blog.

waitwait...

i.

miss.

this.

fucking.

blog.

so i'm bringing it back. i miss listening to myself. i miss my authentic self.

so it took me nine months to be reduced to physical survival. that'll happen when pregnancy nearly kills both you and the baby. fevers approaching 105 degrees, losing 35 pounds in a trimester because morning sickness decided to turn into life-threatening hyperemesis gravidarum, passing out in the kitchen, being too weak to form a sentence, emergency room visits every week. last time i had a baby, i died bringing him into the world.

a whopping ninety seconds of afterlife. gestating just doesn't agree with me. like orange juice right after brushing your teeth. or like my tia nena's baked beans.

so i can see where my heretofore rich inner life and practicing pronoia could get pushed to oblivion as i tried to just bring Little Owl to term. and then came being mama. i've been mama, diving headlong into babywearing, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, sewing diapers, learning how to do everything one-handed because Little Owl refuses to exist anywhere but on my hip as I go about housework.

i love being a mom. well, i love being Little Owl's mom. but i think i'm finally lifting my head back up to see the rest of my life in perspective. babybabybabybaby doesn't occupy my every thought, waking or sleeping, any longer.

i miss being me. i miss baking and singing and writing and visiting the Menstrual Temple. i miss my inner Funk, pronoia, and eating frogs. i miss kicking my Inner Flaming Narcissist right in the ass. i miss sneaking out at night, pomegranate priestesses, and going sacred cow-tipping. i miss brushing my hair, brezsny-on-the-blog, and mexican food.

so the blog is back.  or, rather, i'm back on the blog. expect some redecorating here in the next few weeks, maybe. this place might no longer be called iGoddess, either. not sure. not that i'm not still an iGoddess --because i am-- but iGoddess has always been about memories, dreams, and reflections.  (thank you, Jung, my hero)

welcome.

welcome to weirdness, dreams, questions, observations, and F-bombs.

welcome.