Have you ever read a blog entry that made you thrilled someone else in the world thought the same way you did? Yes. Of course you have. That happened to me today. I read this entry and the following portion spoke to my SOUL.

(Disclaimer: I’m aware the entry was also about good NST results, breech babies and scheduled c-section dates. Things that are much more important than public bathroom opinions.)

I am not the squeamish sort. I sit in public bathrooms. I do not use a paper liner even when they are on offer. And if the previous tenant hasn’t flushed, I am never overly distressed; I’ll do the job myself. Using my hand. (I digress here to decry another unpalatable flavor of bathroom outlaw, the foot-flusher. I mean, Jesus, I’m not prim. But no one should have to confront anyone’s bottom-of-the-shoe-on-the-bathroom-floor germs when performing a simple flush. Foot-flushers, take warning: you are first against the wall of the stall when the revolution comes. Wait, no, second, after the black-hearted squatters.)

FINALLY. I can shout a hearty, “Here, Here!” Do you know how many times I have pretended that I care about public bathrooms? Well - let me rephrase that. I do care in the sense that - if I can avoid it - I stick to fast-food places and rest areas on road trips. I prefer not to use gas station bathrooms, especially the external ones that require a key from the cashier. (Why are those always the worst? Do people feel the need to be more disgusting because it took more effort to get there?) But overall? I just DO NOT CARE.

I don’t stress out if the toilet hasn’t been flushed and I don’t freak out if there are no liners to use. As a matter of fact, I think I’ve only used liners once or twice my whole life. And yes, I too SIT ON THE SEAT. I don’t hover. But my Lord - I have pretended that I hover in conversation before because I’m scared if I admit that I sit that those in the conversation will be so repulsed they’ll run away screaming.

Thank you, Julie. You made me feel comfortable admitting I’m comfortable sitting.

(OMG. That totally rhymed. And it would have been a great line in a musical. Much like “Once More, With Feeling.” Yes. I’m still obsessing over Buffy if you were wondering.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Public bathrooms. Not something I find necessary to be concerned with. I’ve never been even remotely close to being a germaphobe, so why bother flushing a toilet with my foot (And making the next person “bottom-of-the-shoe-on-the-bathroom-floor germs”) when I don’t worry about doorknobs into or out of the bathroom. I just don’t care.

I’m too busy worrying about whether or not the Krispy Kreme across town will have “Hot Fresh Now!” lights on when I take the time to drive all the way out there. Because if they don’t? It kinda makes the trip worthless.

I’m not going to BlogHer this year. The reason I originally wasn’t going has morphed to several other reasons that combine into one simple explanation: MONEY. It’s expensive and I’m on maternity leave. I’m sad since several bloggers I love are going this year - many that I missed last year - but that sadness doesn’t put money in my wallet. So, I’m not going. And you know what? I’m totally okay with that.

I read a blog recently where the woman writing it said, “I’m not going because I don’t do well at large gatherings of that type.” And you know what? Neither do I. I fake it decently sometimes, but in reality? The anxiety it produces in me far exceeds any amount of joy I can achieve in the situation. I’m just a social invalid. Especially when it comes to bloggers that I kinda know but kinda don’t. I am often over-assuming my friendliness. I’ll go up to someone I’ve had casual contact with online and give them a HUGE hug because - since I read their blog I feel like we’re lifelong friends! But, of course, they don’t read mine so all they’re thinking is, “Who’s the freak with the frizz who is hugging me so tight she’s cutting off the circulation to my head?”

Or worse - I’ll go the opposite extreme and withdraw into my insecurity and won’t even say, “Hi.” Do you know how many bloggers I read that I’ve been within speaking range to and never even smiled at? Because I was scared? TOO MANY.

I’m just a freak and I think sometimes it’s better just to admit that and just focus on attending smaller gatherings instead of trying to hide The Inner Freak for an extended period of time. So, I’ll be here reading about all of your awesome adventures and sadly perusing through all of your pictures. Wishing I could be as comfortable in my skin as you are in yours. Maybe I’ll use the time while you’re gone to look for a therapist, because it’s becoming more apparent that I need one.

I love Huntsville. I initially wrote a long several paragraphs about why I love Huntsville, and then I realized that would probably bore everyone but me, so I deleted it. One of the places I love the most is Jones Valley. It is a part of Southeast Huntsville that stayed undeveloped for quite some time. It started being built up in chunks about the time we moved here and it has created this gorgeous dichotomy of rural and commercial. When I took this picture - my favorite shopping center in town was at my back. The city planners placed ordinances in place before this area was developed so that everything is covered in brick and signs don’t stand above roofs. In other words - it’s the things I need (Super Target, Ross, Barnes & Noble, etc.) successfully hidden within some of the most beautiful rural landscape ON THE PLANET.

For Mother’s Day, I asked that MrZ get up with NikkiZ so I could head out early to take pictures of the area in the post-storm sunrise.

Imagine facing all of these scenes, enjoying the beauty, and then turning around and being able to buy a latte at Starbucks. I LOVE THIS CITY.

NikkiZ looks for the cows in the pastures every time we go grocery shopping. If she can’t see them by the road, she’ll propose several options: They’re sleeping, They’re at the Sarm (Farm), or They’re hiding from the rain. She says that most often when it’s completely sunny. Because she’s insane.

See? Peaceful. Calm. Serene. GORGEOUS. And at my back? Longhorn Steakhouse. Anyone else find that juxtaposition - with the pasture across the street from the steakhouse - a little uncomfortable?

I can not live too far from Super Target. I’ll admit that. It’s my grocery store, my lunch stop, and my therapy all in one place. But it feels nice knowing that the district I’m a slave to (There’s also a Hobby Lobby! And a Movie Theater!) is adjacent to such a gorgeous view. It makes it easier when I’m pushing $150 worth of groceries to my car.

I’m not going to BlogHer this year. It started as an impossibility because I was planning another GREAT BIG TRIP for the summer. However, that GREAT BIG TRIP has now been canceled so my convenient excuse is not so much of one now. It’s weird, since the trip has been canceled, I’ve found myself looking for other excuses to give:

• I’ll have just had a baby!
• I don’t have any money!
• I’m allergic to California!

I suddenly found myself wondering, why am I so hesitant to go this year?

I think part of it is because I acted like such an anti-social freak and complete fool last year. I mean - I can blame the cramps and the post-miscarriage blues all I want. But the truth is? I’m terribly embarrassed by how much I hid out last year. And I fear that if I went this year and acted in the same asinine way, I’d have no good excuse. Then I’d finally have to just come out and say it, “I’m a complete fool at big social gatherings. I’m the shy, insecure, embarrassed girl with the big curly hair in the corner. Don’t approach me or I might wither under the pressure.”

Marilyn wrote a great post this morning about how these gatherings/events tend to be all-to-often referred to as resembling Junior High. And it seems to bug her as much as it bugs me. Because yeah, not everyone whose blog I read stood before me with open arms demanding I come sit at their table and be their BFFs. But you know what? I don’t look at that as a sign that these gatherings are like high school. I look at them that they are like LIFE.

I am not accepted with open arms a lot of places. I try to talk to other Moms at the park and sometimes they’re friendly and sometimes they run away screaming. I don’t then sit back and say, “This is just like high school.” No. It’s just life. In life, sometimes we’re accepted and sometimes we’re not.

But also? Blaming my nonacceptance on some sort of similarity to high school would be denying any responsibility of my own. I am NOT GOOD IN SOCIAL SITUATIONS. Period. End of story. Get a few beers in me and I’ll be better, but in general? Not so much. I’m scared of people. I’m scared of talking to people I don’t know. I’m scared I’ll hug someone too aggressively and they’ll report me to the police. I’ve approached a few of my blogging idols and totally faltered under the pressure, feeling like a complete fool. I’ve been approached by other blogger and been so aggressive with my greeting them that I end up looking like a COMPLETE FOOL.

Do you see the trend?

Blog gatherings and Mommy Blogger events are not like high school. They’re like life. Sometimes groups form without me. A lot of times they do. And other times I’m welcomed in with open arms. Sometimes I scare people, sometimes I insult people, and sometimes people actually like me. It’s just life.

Unfortunately, it still all boils down to this: I SUCK AT THEM.

So, this year? I’m going to be honest. I’m not going to BlogHer. The main reason really is the money (I promise!) - I’ll be on unpaid maternity leave. That’s a bad time to plan a cross-country trip. But, the second reason in line? Is that I’m a big ole’ chicken shit who acts like a COMPLETE FOOL in social situations and makes people who think, “She seems like she’s be cool from her blog!” re-assess the situation and think, “Some people should just stay behind the Wordpress Dashboard.”

(Although, if you see any of the ladies I’ve photographed at the past BlogHers this year, will you hug them for me? And be really aggressive about it or they won’t believe it’s actually from me. I’m a violent hugger.)

I fear my daughter has inherited my horrible sense of fashion. This picture is what happens when she dresses herself. Including the stickers. And for the record? There were no pants in this outfit. Now, I will say that I (usually) wear pants when I dress myself, but for the most part? Her clothing choices seem to reflect my own horrible taste. Which, of course, is adorable now! But when she’s 14 and pinch-rolling her flare-legs? (Why could I never separate the styles?) She’ll be in trouble.

Unless this is just the age of bad taste. Is there still a chance she could grow out of this? Could it be that all two-year olds prefer to put stickers on their legs instead of pants? Is there a chance she’ll eventually realize that socks and sandals don’t mix? Or is she doomed to spend her life like her mother does: A minimum of two styles behind at all times.