Balls To The Wall
Rule #637 for women who blog who want to be taken seriously - that is, to not be referred to as 'narcissistic brainless lactating cows' - is, apparently, this: do not have mental breakdown and threaten to quit blogging or take vacation from blogging or enter blogging rehab somewhere in Arizona or whatever.* Presumably because if you don't have the balls to keep blogging when you're feeling mentally and/or emotionally whipped, it just goes to prove that you don't have balls, period.
I'm not quitting blogging. I may not have balls - not the real, hairy, dangly kind, anyway - but I am attached to this here enterprise and have no intention of letting it go. I may, however, need to take a vacation. I'm just so tired. Caring for baby and toddler (is she a pre-schooler now? I can't keep track) while endeavoring to stay sane is draining all of my energies, and writing, while still necessary, is getting harder each day. That, and I have something big, something life-changing, that I need to write about, but I need my strength and my wits to do so, and those are well-depleted right now. I need to shore up my reserves. I need to feel strong. I need a rest.
I haven't decided whether or how I'll finesse that vacation. Maybe I don't actually need one. Maybe I'll just wake up feeling better and stronger tomorrow and it will all be unnecessary. Maybe the meds will kick in. Just know that if you turn up here one of these days and the smiling words that greet you are not my own, it's because I'm happily napping somewhere, blissfully unconcerned about my balls, or lack thereof.
HBF has a message for all of you who left sexy birthday messages and saucy virtual trinkets for him: he's into you, if that's what you're into.
*actual statement from actual troll-like creature writing from underneath the bridge. I refuse to link to him. He'll eat your goats. Please to avoid.