It's a bit early, but I guess I'll write about this shit.

So. My mom and I, we are conflicted. She loves me, she has always been an above decent mother. She always always put me and my brother first. But she hurt me when I was like thirteen or so. My mother had an affair. It broke my father's heart. When you view your father as similar to a super hero, who is all powerful, all truthful, all knowing, and just downright almost Godlike, and you see him lay in bed and cry, it's powerful. Especially at the age I was.

Ever since then, my relationship with my mother was changed. I don't know if she knows why I can't hug her, can't tell her I love her, can't be a normal loving daughter. Sometimes I want to scream at her, "you did this, the day you cheated on US". My mom also has issues that are beyond her control, I know, but sometimes I resent the situations I am put in.

Soooo, this is the second Mother's Day, I think, that hasn't been as I would imagine a normal loving family would spend. Actually, I didn't even see my mother, she and my father went to visit my brother in Chicago, which was probably the best thing for everyone. This is the first Mother's Day that I've spent with a normal loving mother daughter...my boyfriend's mother and sister. I have to say it was nice.

I guess that is all I have to say. Right now.

This is the fourth night in a row popping my Ambien. I've heard that you don't get a truly good night's sleep on any type of sleep aid. So much for beauty sleep!

I keep playing Fergie's new song,"Big Girls Don't Cry" over and over. I don't know what it is, I guess I'm relating. I didn't go to work today, a combination of anger, too much wine, and sheer laziness. I'm beginning to think I may have a problem with the vino. It's getting to be a bottle every couple of nights. I reason with myself, and my boyfriend, with the excuse that I no longer go out to the bars three nights a week and get wasted. I never go out anymore. So, I sit at home, alone, with my best friend, Chardonnay. Some nights Pinot Noir comes over. Riesling stops by occasionally, and I can always count on Prosecco to give me some laughs. Chardonnay is visiting at the moment. ;) "It's time to be a big girl now, and big girls don't cry" haaaaaaaa.

My life is almost perfect. I turned the big 3-0 this past August, and I admit, I was in bed watching the clock creep up on midnight, saying goodbye to an era of casual, carefree, hedonistic fun. I had a mini breakdown. My boyfriend continued to snore loudly as the tears rolled quietly down my cheeks. I'm over it now. Everywhere I go, I get carded. Every time I buy my little vino friends, I get carded...although now they are starting to know me at the local grocery. They all probably think "here comes the wine lady" when I walk in the door. All five of my luscious, young, naive girls (my employees) believed I was right around twenty one. Or maybe they were just sucking up. Point is, I'm okay with the thirty thing because I don't feel thirty, or look thirty, or act thirty. I always said when I turned thirty I would end my days of clubbing, bar hopping, promiscuous sex, and all out partying. I always thought it would be a hard habit to break. It wasn't. I met "the one" in March, before I turned thirty. My life changed. I had someone I wanted to stay home with, someone to go to movies, go to dinner, someone to be ME with. For once in my life I can 100 percent say I am truly loved. It's "forever" that scares me. It's not what I thought it would be. I'm not talking about "the one", I'm talking about my life in general.

My parents have been married over thirty five years now. They have been separated a few times. My mother cheated on my father when I was in middle school. (I'm sure more of that will be written about, as it was quite traumatic) But my parents know the meaning of marriage. Marriage to me, by example of my parents, is absolutely through thick and thin. Marriage is forever. I know when I walk down that aisle it will be until I die. I haven't screwed up on that part...yet. Simply because I haven't been married. My mother, though she will deny this adamantly, is your typical uppity socially correct snob. "Good girls don't behave that way", "Good girls don't call boys", "Good girls, blah, blah, blah", you get the drift. I guess I wasn't a good girl.

My virginity was lost in the backseat of a car, with ten guys standing around watching, on prom night. I was fifteen, drunk for the first time in my life, and as a "hottie" freshman, was at the prom with a senior "stud". At seventeen, I seduced my thirty six year old tennis pro. He held out for exactly two months before he could no longer resist. Must have been my super short tennis skirts sans the tennis panties. My heart finally got broken when I was twenty four. He was forty three, and fucking his married female boss. It came out of nowhere, and it hit me hard. I literally felt my heart break when I found out. Three days later I found out I was pregnant. I still remember, being on the phone with my dad, who was trying to cheer me up about the ex asshole. My dad was saying "you're so strong, you can deal with this, you can deal with anything life throws at you". I remember clearly saying, "anything dad?" "anything", he said. "well I'm pregnant". And my dad was awesome. My dad has always been awesome. It was my mother that had to be dealt with. My dad said "please, let me tell your mother". That phone conversation is so vivid in my mind. Four hours later I met my parents at our favorite restaurant for dinner. My mother did not say more than ten words to me the entire time. I fucked up...good girls get married before the have babies.

So, I guess this lovely first entry is taking the place of the "about me" section. I don't know where I am going with this. Must be the wine. Doesn't matter much anyway, cause I know I'm the only one who will ever read this.

There's a man. He lives across the country. We met on match.com (hahahaha) two years ago. He flew out here, we spent a weekend together. He ended it, I went psycho. We just started talking again. He's hot as hell, and exactly what I want. Or I should say, he's exactly what I think I want. Soooo hot, intelligent, great father, lots of money ( did I mention I'm prententious?), he's like sooo immaculate. I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend whom I love, a boyfriend who loves me and my son beyond reason. But everyday, I get a little thrill out of the text messages from the guy across the country. I'll call him Mr. Hottie. Mr. Hottie texts me as I undress in a dressing room at bebe, while my boyfriend, Mr. Stable, sits outside, waiting on me.

Let's not even start on the career issues. I'm tired of writing, and I feel I've purged enough for tonight. There is sooo much more to come. My day has been exciting, sarcasm here, Mr. Hottie and I talked earlier, Chardonnay and I have been hangin' for awhile now..he's about ready to go home, and it's about time for me to pop my Ambien. Goodnight my lovelies.

Love,
AmbienPrincess