I got caught up reading old emails yesterday. I periodically do a search on my gmail using key words that pop up a lot but hold messages that I don't read (like bonusmail stuff or old exercise articles), but sometimes I get told email that gmail stores. I found one last night from an old mom's group that I belonged to, and it was dated 2005! I read it and started laughing because, even though the end of my time with them was pretty hurtful, I had a lot of good times with them.

I found a lot of messages like that, and I'm not sure what I want to do about it. I read through a bunch that held so many memories! I was a bit downhearted, but I didn't stay sad for long. I guess I'm more pensive about those things now? I wonder what happened, if I ran away from something rather than facing it, and thus missing out on more good times that could have been had, did I "bit my nose to spite my face" because I was angry and felt slighted... I don't like the "what if" game, but sometimes I find myself falling into it so easily!

I thought about permenantly deleting the messages, especially the ones that were between me and a handful of different people that were so full of hurt and misunderstandings (that I don't think were ever truly resolved, but sometimes it really is too late), but on the flip side of that I think that they might serve me well to keep. They serve as reminders, both of my past and of thing that I want to be careful to not repeat! I guess since I read them and didn't get that crushing loss of breath that I had in the past I'll keep them; I must be truly moving forward and letting go...

OK; I'm beginning to get a bit freaked out by my son.

 I wrote an entry a few days ago about his telling me that he used to live in Africa. I do believe in past lives, and I do believe that children tend to remember their past lives and then their memories tend to dissolve as they get older; however, I didn't really think much of the whole thing because it's never been presented to me within my own family! I'm truly beginning to wonder about Ian though, because his stories of Africa and his time there is getting very specific.

Saturday morning when we were leaving the house, he asked me about the rip in our screen door. I told him that I didn't know because, quite honestly, we were running behind schedule and I didn't want to have a long discussion about how Sean ripped the screen door when we moved in. Ian was quiet a moment after I responded to his question, and then he said, "I was living in Africa when Daddy ripped the screen door. It was, I think, 2 years after that I came here to live with you." Let me tell you, I about his the ground when he said that! He is exactly right: We moved in here December of 2001 and Ian arrived in early November of 2003 (but he was due December of 2003).

So, I decided to ask some very basic, general questions. What came out was this: He and Roo were living together but they were "bigger" (i.e. older). They didn't have parents or anyone to take of them so they decided they wanted to come here so that we would take care of them. They had no TV and no computer where they were living, and they weren't very happy. Interesting.

Today I went shopping with my mother, and when I came home I was putting a DVD in for Ian to watch. He says to me, "Mom, do you like people with brown skin?" I said, "Of course I do. I like people of all colors." He looked at me and said, "I didn't like it when I had brown skin. It felt weird and my hair felt funny. My hair was a different color too. Now I have white skin, and is this blond hair?"

After catching my breath I came out to the couch and retold the story to Sean. He then tells me that the whole ride home from the party yesterday he was talking about Africa. He told Sean that he and Reilly were 18 years old when they lived there, they lived together in a house, and that they had no bubblegum there, that some days he didn't eat anything at all, and that their water was "icky."

Um, really?

Not a lot has been been going on the past few days, and I like it like that. I was sick most of the weekend so I didn't do much but laze around, but on Sunday the kids and I put up the tree. Monday night Ian and Sean decorated the lawn, and all I can is that that Jeff Foxworthy should come and do a skit about our house. Four of the 5 things out there don't light up more than halfway. It's lovely.

I can't wait for Christmas! I love the holidays anyway (as most people know because I listen to Christmas music all year round), but this year is going to be different. My brother and SIL won't be here for our traditional Christmas Eve, and the people at my MILs house is going to be few this year for Christmas day, so it should be quiet. I don't mind though, because this year I feel totally different so the quiet should suit me fine.

During the past few months I've realized how few friends I really have because I decided to let the word "friend" mean something more to me than in the past, and I've also stopped trying to make excuses for people and thus feeling badly that I didn't "measure up" to whatever deserved their time and attention. Because of the change in my thinking I have, in essence, freed myself from feeling less-than-worthy and thinking that there was something lacking in me as a person. With that came a great calm and a fullness in my heart, and an even greater appreciation for the true friends and the family I have. I have a lot to be thankful for, and I can't think of a greater time to have come to this honest and amazing realization than around the holidays!