Five Star Friday's 169th Edition Is Brought to You By Sylvia Plath

This week's Five Star Friday is brought to you by a daughter with special needs, happy children, child pornography, a soap review, depression, masturbation, blog monetization, and Sylvia Plath:

Grave of Poet Sylvia Plath

photo credit:

reinholdbehringer

I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.
     — Sylvia Plath

Happy Friday!

"

Sometimes

" from

Forever In Mom Genes

:

I've come to the realization that having a special child needs to be reconciled in one's heart and mind. No matter how much I love my girl and how lucky I know I am to be her mummy, there's a painful sense of loss that needs to be addressed. It kills me to see girls Avery's age and to wonder what lies ahead for her and for our family.
And so I grieve.

"

Is Blogging Your Santa Claus?

" from

PhD In Parenting

"

No, You Aren't Amber Cole's Father

" by

Jeff Fecke

at

Alas, A Blog

"

Adventures In Depression

" from

Hyperbole and a Half

:

I've always wanted to not give a fuck. While crying helplessly into my pillow for no good reason, I would often fantasize that maybe someday I could be one of those stoic badasses whose emotions are mostly comprised of rock music and not being afraid of things. And finally — finally — after a lifetime of feelings and anxiety and more feelings, I didn't have any feelings left. I had spent my last feeling being disappointed that I couldn't rent Jumanji.
I felt invincible.

"

My First Product Review Goes To... SOAP!

" by

The Muskrat

at

DadCentric

"

Every Moment a Memory

" from

Toddler Planet

"

Who Taught You To Masturbate? Rest, Randy Potratz.

" from

Black Hockey Jesus

:

My parents moving in two houses down. You, four-years-old, on their front steps with a question before they even unloaded the truck: You got any kids? My brother Jeff was two and me? Only almost someone, in my mom’s belly. Friends before I was born. And then when I saw you in 2000 in that empty Muskegon bar, you were crying. Said you were going to kill yourself. I told you to go home, man, sleep it off. I said something about tomorrow. This is the way memory happens.

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