Author Archives: Christene

Hey Girl

Today someone told me how cute my son is. “He is going to look just like Ryan Gosling!” I know she meant well, but am I the only woman in the world who is not attracted to Ryan Gosling? I was actually talking to a friend last night about this. I mean, he is not *unattractive,* but if  I were ever to meet him I would just want to pinch his cheek, ruffle his hair and tell him to run along. He is adorable in that way where I would like my son to look like him in his early teens. After which I would start feeding him racks of lamb and pastries.

Lately he has obviously been working out so he no longer looks the way I remember him from The Notebook. But thin and toned works well for women. Real men just don’t look that way. At least not in my head.

I am not saying Ryan Gosling isn’t a real man, as I am in no way questioning his manhood (I am sure it is all there, intact and what have you)… but… would someone please feed the boy?

I would totally get behind that whole “Hey Girl” meme on the Internet if he was a little more pudgy.

Although I have to admit, the little sayings on the posters are what every woman wants to hear. Just not from Ryan Gosling.

Renaming, Maybe?

I started this blog years ago and called it Confessions from the Crib because that is how my ideas came. I had just given birth to Ally, and as I was putting her to bed at night I would curl up in the crib with her until she fell asleep. It was too early for me to sleep, so I would lay there, wide awake, thinking.

I was new to the whole mother business, so I was constantly thinking of ways of being better at it. The blog at the time was dedicated to parenting, advice as it came, new ways of doing things, trials and tribulations of parenthood, and well, you get the gist.

It remained that way for several years. A year and a half later, after my son was born, I did the same thing. And as I lay in the crib with him I once again used it as my thinking place, quickly transcribing my ideas into the blog before going to bed. Having two children gave impetus to more advice, discovering ways of handling both of them, and getting better at it each day.

But then the blog became about more than just parenting, especially in the last year. In fact, I can’t remember the last real parenting advice post. I guess I don’t have any more advice to give. I go from day to day, see what works, implement it, and before I perfect anything things change.

Somewhere along the way I realized I am more than just a mother, and I started exploring other interests and facets of my life. I began blogging about the things I read, and everyday experiences that often include my kids, but aren’t anywhere in the realm of advice, or cute “how-to” posts.

I have been playing around with the idea of changing the blog’s name for several months. But I am not sure what to call it. There isn’t one subject I blog about. There is no overarching theme. In fact, for the past year the majority of my blogs have been everyday occurrences and I am using the platform as more of a personal diary than anything else. Except, it is not very personal, but rather quite public.

I have come up with several titles. I am still deliberating. Here are some of my favorites:

The Butterfly Loft (Because I will always be The Butterfly, even though people stopped calling me that years ago, and there is a salon in Encino with this name that sounds very nice).

A Blog With A View (inspired by Tina Dico’s Room With A View).

The Butterfly Diaries (quite self explanatory I think – and even though an online journal is already named this, they focus on subjects I only rarely touch, and never in much depth).

Slightly Strange (I saw a pin on Pinterest “awkward is my specialty”… no one does awkward like me).

Breathing Butterfly (I like breathing).

I am not terribly fond of the other names I concocted, so for the time being I will simply ruminate on these.

Love Like A Plague

Every time I have given love it was as if I was handing out the plague. It was curious business, trifled with, explored, but when discovered thrown back, unwanted. Everyone was left confused. They would wonder why I would give such a terrible thing. I would wonder why I couldn’t have kept it to myself. Then maybe things would have been different and no one would have to touch whatever denatured form of love I seem to have. There is obviously something wrong with it.

A couple of weeks ago when I was doing my Shelleys analysis I chose not to look at The Last Man. It had no place among the works I was considering. Last night I glanced it over briefly, and I thought about Evadne.

She loves deeply and passionately, yet it is never good enough. In fact  the exact association Shelley makes between Evadne, love, and the way it is received is one in which Evadne symbolizes the plague, even as she is the epitome of love. Raymond wants nothing she has to offer, and never gives her a second thought.
She probably should have kept all that business to herself as well.