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Yesterday I forgot why I love being a mom but today I remembered. While lying underneath a mesquite tree, I asked him what he loved. I found out he loved the library and me. His love of the library must have come from our weekly visits where we check out books like “Yummy, Yucky” Our favorite page says, “Burgers are yummy.” “Boogers are yucky.” Just outside the library we lay on our backs while I told him what color the sky was and what color the tree was. We flipped onto our bellies and looked at each other but I couldn’t resist tickling him. A branch was nearby which I used as my tickle stick. He pulled up some grass and with wide eyes he told me he broke it. “Mommy, fix it?” I didn’t know how to respond to this one. Being confused about green grass is typical with kids around here. I started reading a novel out loud while he pretended to know what I was talking about. After he became restless for a more appropriate book, I pulled out a Ziploc filled with purple grapes. I ate one and made a loud noise like I was a hungry monster. He decided he wanted to feed the hungry monster so the healthy snack that was intended for his belly fed his soul with laughter instead. After my feeding, he whispered in my ear something about birds. Luckily, my mommy decoder ring was working and I was able to decipher his desires. He wanted to get up and chase the birds. We ran as fast as we could at the clueless pigeons until they flew up, soaring over are heads. We both laughed and kept running. “Let’s act like we’re planes”, I said. With arms stretched out, we ran around and made buzzing sounds with our lips before we decided to fly back to the tree for some more time together. With him sitting in my lap, I sang a song about a spider crawling up his leg. This one is his favorite. “Let’s go mommy,” he says so I gathered up our belongings and headed to the car. We were half way there when he turned back around and went back to our special tree, which meant he wanted some more time with me. He lay down and I followed his lead. Under the tree with our hands behind our heads, we look up through the branches. He didn’t say anything but I kept glancing at him because I knew he was saying he loved me.
I was thinking today about how blogging is actually a struggle for me. Well, my hands struggle. One wants to write creatively as if no one was reading this but the other hand, the editor, slows me down and throws caution signals in my head to not type certain things. It makes me stop and think about who will read this and what will they think. I’m caught in the middle.
If no one were reading this, I’d probably write about how I claim to hate reading yet I let spirited toddler watch videos so I can read just one more blog, which makes me feel guilty. Maybe if no one were reading this, I’d write about how much I hated breastfeeding the entire 16 months I did it. Everyone said it would be this huge bonding experience but it made me feel resentful every time I saw my engorged breasts in the mirror. Maybe I’d write something sweet like how much I love our church because it’s filled with gay couples and these beautiful men from Sudan. No, I’d probably write about how I hate all the saguaro cacti around me yet I claim to love them. Maybe if no one read what I wrote, I’d write about what I was really thinking in Vegas. Ya, I’d tell you that the entire time I was there I was fantasizing about having cute hubby with me and ordering a prostitute like room service. I figured what goes on in Vegas stays in Vegas so we could get a freebie. I think I’d tell you that cute hubby’s obsessed about me telling him stories in bed about how I was with women in college but the truth is I was drunk every time and don’t remember details so I make most of it up. I’d probably write about how I once had this extremely high paying job that caused me anxiety attacks. I’d tell you that there was this woman who would try to intimidate me and it actually worked. When I left, I told the owner that I thought she was stealing because she always had new clothes on. Well, about a week later, by ex-boss called to tell me the good news. That same woman was taken out in handcuffs in front of all the employees because after listening to me, he decided to set up a hidden camera. I was right but I’m still pissed I missed the show. I’d probably write about how this morning I looked at cute hubby and thought, “damn, look at him, he’s so sexy and smells great.” But then about two seconds later, I wondered if he was putting cologne on for me or someone else. I probably would not write about how much I love listening to the Dixie Chicks when I’m cleaning my house though. Oh, but I’m sure I’d write about how much I love flirting with this one particular person who reads my blog. In fact, I’d probably write about how much I wanted to meet this person and make love to him and I’m actually a bit resentful that the institution of marriage doesn’t encourage this. Maybe I’d also write about how much I hate the site of my belly button and that when I take a bath, I try not to look at it. If this was my own personal journal, I’d write about how I’m obsessed with all reality TV shows and I’m not afraid to admit it, well at least when someone mentions them first. I don’t think I’d write about how I secretly love reading knitting blogs. You see I can’t seem to get past knitting the same scarf. It’s the same but often in different colors and different lengths. If no one read what I wrote, I’d probably write about my fear of failure and my fear of success. Or, maybe I’d write about how I bought these “meal replacement” bars today because I was in need of a healthy snacking alternative but I ate them all for lunch which kind of defeats the whole purpose. I guess this hand struggle thing really protects me in the long run.
We met at a party but didn’t really talk that much. I saw him from afar but immediately disregarded him because of the slut sitting next to him. I knew she was a slut because I worked with her so she felt the need to tell me things I didn’t want to hear. I drank some, laughed a lot but continued to keep an eye on him. I thought I caught him glancing at me but I wasn’t sure. I had brought a delicious salad to the party, which I watched him scarf down like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. I was one of the last ones to leave that night, after I saw them leave together. I started hating her even more. Two weeks later, I saw those friends again who hosted the party and they wanted to hear every detail. I quickly informed them that I had no idea what details they were looking for. I found out he had asked them for my phone number. They assumed he called but he hadn’t. I wondered why until I couldn’t stand it anymore and called him. I asked him why he would ask for my phone number and never call. He said because I made him nervous. I said, "were you planning on asking me out when you called?" "Maybe," he said. What a tease. He picked me up after work that night.
On our first date we went to “Undici, Undici" which I think means 1111, the address of the restaurant and bar. We drank coffee and chatted until we couldn’t stand it and broke the sexual tension by going to his apartment. We were together every night after that but I made him wait for my love.
Fast-forward almost 9 years and you’ve got today. I drove downtown to the dirt-covered parking lot, looking for his truck. The truck that used to be all mine but now was his. I had a card and poprocks for him. The card had two coffee cups painted all funky and inside it said, I wish we were having coffee and catching up. It was true. I wanted to be with him at that moment, drinking coffee, and catching up. He’s busy which means I become needy. It’s weird I thought, here I am years later, still having to ask him out. I also put how much I wanted to kiss him with poprocks in his mouth. I remember being told by a bully in middle school that you can’t drink a coke and eat poprocks at the same time because you’ll blow up. I tried it. She lied.
He came home and I had to ask if he got the card. Yes, I did, should we give the poprocks to spirited toddler? My heart broke over silly candy. I wanted them to be ours and he wanted to give them away.
My outside is smooth and round, except for the bottom, which flares out like puckered lips expecting a return kiss. I guess it represents where I was holding on until I was ready to be on my own. My flared end sticks out like the tied end of a helium filled balloon. People may become timid at the sight of me but don’t let my exoticness scare you. I promise I ‘m worth it. Once you take me home, I’m all yours to devour. Like most pomegranates, my insides are a bit complicated. If you take it slow, you can enjoy me seed by seed until you’ve eaten all my insides. I must tell you that a sharp knife may be needed to crack me but don’t feel intimidated. When you do, I’ll expose my compartments; each filled with poor mans caviar. Serve me on a toast point? No, but drop me into some cheap champagne. Watch all the tiny bubbles attack me, wanting to penetrate my skin. You can pick me up one by one or you can take spoonfuls. Either way, I’m sure to please on a hot summer afternoon. I’m cold and squishy so you may want to suck on me a bit but if you dare, take a bite to really experience me fully. Sometimes, people try to buy replicas of me once I’ve been hollowed out of my tough shell but believe me, it’s just not the same as buying me whole. I look pretty all pink and shiny behind the plastic but I prefer to go home with you in one piece. Some may find eating me a bit complicated but once you’ve tried the first seed, you’ll be curious for more. Besides, eating pink fruit is always a delight. There’s an apple I’m friends with called “Pink Lady” but she’s a typical apple with a fancy name. Why not? Go for it. Buy me and savor my seeds.
The new neighbors have appeared, but just for a few seconds. I didn’t know they had moved in because no moving trucks ever came and the curtains from the last guy are still there. I guess the deal was he could move in and get all the furniture too. For weeks, I saw two new cars out there but the owners had not surfaced. Well, wouldn’t you know it; they appeared to quite a sight.
Spirited toddler and I decided to walk to the cluster mailbox because I needed some air. Earlier that morning, we were at the zoo when he asked to see my sunglasses. I said sure so he grabbed them and threw them right in the water, filled with black swans, ducks, and a lot of poop. Anyway, so I was of course reluctant to give him the keys. I decided there would be no harm in it so I passed them on but he quickly threw them in the street so I was mad. After retrieving them, he asked for them back. Of course, now I’m beginning to see a pattern so I say “no”, at that time, he decides to throw a really good spirited tantrum. I wasn’t fazed by it, because I had seen it all too often so I just watched him throw himself on the cement acting like he was dying. In fact, not only did I ignore him, I read the mail waiting for him to finish. The tantrum lasted longer than my patience so I started to walk back to the house hoping he would follow. I look back and see that he had decided to keep going but to my horror, I also see my neighbor watching everything. Damn, I wasn’t making a good first impression. I waved and smiled but he was fixated on my screaming toddler on the cement and by the fact that I was just leaving him there. Oh, and did I mention that spirited toddler was saying, “mommy, help me!” My new neighbor silently walked back in his house without a word. Now I’m going crazy just wanting to explain to him that that’s not typically how I parent but the kiddo was having a bad day. The worst part is that now we’ve become the loud neighbor. I hope he does not hate us like we hated the loud neighbor. He hasn’t appeared since, but when he does, so help me, I’m scooping up spirited toddler, taking him outside, and making him laugh just so I can prove to the guy that we’re a perfectly happy family.
Today I was aware of feeling a bit like a chameleon because my feelings themselves changed within every room or environment I was in. Just by the change of scenery, my mood would shift. The adding of walls, then the release of being around trees again. They all contributed to my day. Driving to work, I felt intelligent, yet fearful so I just drank more coffee. While I was driving home, I felt excited by the laughter and fun I knew I was about to experience. Although, my mood shifted when I realized I was all-alone in the house. Where had they gone without me I wondered? I should of appreciated the alone time but to tell you the truth, I wished they were there making me feel a bit frazzled like they usually did. I felt out of place without them but once they came in the door, I felt comfortable with my surroundings again. The noise level picked up which filled my soul. I settled in. We went downtown which is another place that turns me back into myself. This is where the fun girl comes out. Just walking down the brick sidewalks made me feel wild, young, and just down right fuckable. Maybe it was the numerous tattoo and piercing shops. Maybe it was the street people that smelled of patchouli and cigarettes. Maybe it was the way my high heels looked when I crossed my legs. Whatever it was, it felt great. We sat outside to hear the music and fill our bellies with guacamole. Can you really eat too much fresh guacamole? I think not but I tried anyway. I begged them to stay longer and listen to one more song but I didn’t win. Back in the car I felt sad we were leaving. I wanted that downtown feeling to come home with me so I flirted with him as we drove home even though it wasn’t necessary. I knew I’d get what I wanted tonight without even asking. It’s Saturday, which means we spend all night intertwined, naked, talking, exploring. Tomorrow night we’ll wish it were Saturday again so we’ll just pretend that it is. I must be a morning and a night person. I enjoy the solitude of my mornings yet I tend to wait all day for the evening to approach. I love the darkness of night when my sins come out to play yet I anticipate the suns arrival to wash my sins away.
I don’t believe in Chiropractors but someone cute convinced me it wouldn’t hurt, plus, I couldn’t afford the massage therapist every week. He told me this one was different; he uses the not so typical approach. I assumed this was code for "trust me, give it a chance." He knows I can't stand going to anyone who wears a white coat. The doctor, the dentist, they all leave me feeling shameful for some reason, like I'm at the principal's office and I'm here because I'm bad and they need to tell me to shape up and it's my own fault I'm experiencing pain. The office seemed busy, full of complaining old people who wanted to be back on the golf course after a quick adjustment.
First, he sent me into the room that was quite dark. I wondered why he didn’t turn the lights on but then I realized it was for the ambiance, which didn't relax me but made me fear for my own safety. The Dr…. or so it said on his nametag, had horrible teeth. I had a hard time looking him in the eyes because of his werewolf fangs. The teeth didn’t match his soft-spoken nature so it was rather odd. He had me lay down on my side, placing a pillow between my legs and under my head. Before I knew it, I felt like I was getting a tattoo. I tried to hold still because I knew any sudden move would make my back a lot worse. He was doing acupuncture without even talking to me about it. Luckily, I was okay with it. Within seconds, he put needles in my back and in my thighs. I lay there and took it, but then, he left the room. I could feel some anxiety take over because I knew the needles were there but I couldn’t actually see them. I had this image of me rolling onto my back and sending all of those tiny needles into my body. Impaling myself accidentally. I knew this probably wouldn’t happen but it was like that odd moment where you wonder what would happen if you drove off this cliff. Anyway, he left without a word, only to return a full ten minutes later. It was a long ten minutes of trying to stay still which probably caused more pain because I kept forgetting to breathe.
Next, I got an MRI. The bumper sticker at the end of the table said, “Don’t You Deserve a Licensed Radiologist?” Well, I thought, “of course I do.” I assumed it was their way of saying they were superior but it didn’t exactly do the trick of making me feel confident in their work. The “Dr.” told me he thought it was a disk in my back that was causing pain, causing the pinched nerve. I wasn’t sure but he called shortly to say, yes indeed it was a disk. Having a doctor call me at home always makes me feel uneasy for some reason too. It’s bad enough that they touch me, but when they call me at home, it’s just intruding, plus, what was I supposed to do now? I’m not sure what the acupuncture was supposed to do, but I don’t feel any different which makes me think he was a quack. I preferred the massage mistress.
We tried to make love tonight but it didn’t work. I had an image in my head I couldn’t erase, images of my own parents doing naughty things. Let me start by telling you my mom is a missionary, which means she doesn’t exactly lead a sinful life. On the other hand, my dad really tries to tempt her. They called tonight to gloat about the fun they were having in their new pool and hot tub. My mom first started talking by saying, “hi, just thought we’d let you know we’re in our new pool.” I respond positively with how excited they must feel and how jealous I am that I’m wasn’t there because it was so damn hot today. As they started to talk some more, I heard my dad in the background giggle and say something like, “Tell her what you’re drinking.” There seemed to be some splashing so I couldn’t really make out what he was saying. I asked my mom to repeat but she said nothing. My dad wiggled the phone from her a bit to say he had just made my mom a buttery nipple. You see, during our family Vegas trip, we discovered a drink for my mom that tasted more like chocolate than alcohol. This way, she could enjoy it without feeling quite as guilty. After one drink, she was plastered though. I guess that’s what happens when you never drink, a low tolerance. By the end of the trip, she was truly sad to be leaving Vegas, not because of her time with us, but her time clutching the buttery nipples. Anyway, my dad apparently surprised her by buying all the ingredients for her favorite drink to celebrate the grand opening of their new addition but mom didn’t want to tell me. She’s proud of her nun-like reputation but we know better. Well, again, after one drink, she was feeling pretty goofy but I felt like a little dizzy when she said, “ya, we’ve already christened the pool.” Oh my god, I was hoping she didn’t mean what I thought she meant. Please god, let that mean they’ve just swam in it. Now, I’m flooded with thoughts that no child should be faced with. I think I’ll postpone our visit until I’ve had some therapy.
I knew I was in trouble when the man flagging me to the left, actually meant me to park on the right. He appeared drunk and it was only 10:00am. Later, I realized, this was to be expected from a county fair employee. My mom’s group decided to take the kids there because we heard there would be a petting zoo. Now, looking back, seeing a few pigs and some goats were not worth the three dollars. We all went in expecting our kids to enjoy seeing a few animals but most of them were pretty scared of the ostrich looking at them like he was about to peck their eyes out. Plus, the over aggressive goats trying to jump the cage frightened me a bit. Over to the right, I noticed an animal alone, fenced in, facing the corner. I wondered why no one was over there feeding him our Dixie cups filled with pellets, so I approached, cautious. Immediately, I shielded spirited toddlers eyes. I had never seen a kangaroo in person before and I hope I never do again. The kangaroo was obviously aroused by something. His “third leg” was making an appearance, which was enough for me to gasp and turn my head. Now, I realized why everyone was avoiding the shameful Joey. They were all too lady like to even mention it. I broke the tension when I turned to my friend and said, “Oh my gosh, did you see that thing?” We all laughed and were thankful we didn’t have to explain anything to our kids because they were all still too young. What’s weird is that he was just standing in the corner not really looking at anything, so I assumed he was fantasizing. That, or it found his male keeper attractive in some kind of sick way. Next, we move down toward the kiddie’s rides but first a stop at the food booths. We walked up and down this tiny street trying to find something edible but seedy people manned all the booths. One guy who was frying up corn dogs was blowing his nose while we were standing there looking up and trying to make a decision. We shuffled our kids to the next booth, which featured Gyros. I gently reminded everyone that this would mean we were eating lamb from a county fair, which meant we’d probably all go home with food poisoning. We moved on down to the burger and fry booth where we were shocked to see a woman with so much facial hair that the mere sight triggered my gag reflex. I would understand if she was a side show but she was the one serving the food. To make maters worse, she was balancing a cigarette in one hand and a spatula in the next. We all looked at each other and started pushing the strollers away feeling defeated once again. Ah ha! You can’t go wrong with frozen yogurt. I was the first to approach. A nice thirty something looking man served me up a chocolate cup. Out of the five of us, I was the only one who wasn’t pregnant, so I think he was pretty shocked at the sight of four pregnant women eating. We stood outside his booth and fed ourselves with the only safe carnival food. Suddenly, I felt the thirty something man’s eyes on the back of my head. I turned around and saw him leaning out of the booth smiling at us. I smile back when he says, “Boy, you all sure look like a fertile bunch.” Silently, we gather our children with chocolate rings around their lips and move on. I couldn’t’ figure out what would get the stench of carnival folk off of me so I just left, after buying a blue plastic trumpet. It screamed in my ear the entire way home while I was trying to figure out how everything went wrong…. so very wrong. None of us has yet to mention the fair. It’s like we suffered some unspeakable trauma together and if no one mentions it, than it never happened.
We shook hands in the lobby before she led me back into the room. It was dark but filled with music. The sounds of a humpback whale combined with a flute. She asked me a few questions about my background and pain tolerance before asking me to disrobe. She stepped out a bit so I took off my clothes and folded them on the only chair before getting on the table. I slid down between the sheets and anticipated her knock at the door. “Are you comfortable with me messaging your gluts?” “Yes, that’s fine.” She hasn’t touched me yet but I hear her preparing. She pulls the top of the sheet down exposing my back. I wonder if she’s comfortable with my breasts that I’m sure are slightly exposed on the side. Next, I hear her hands rubbing back and forth, warming the lavender lotion. Her touch is gentle, yet strong, and with a purpose. I relax and take a deep breath. She starts at my lower back where the pain is. I try to close my eyes to focus on relaxing but occasionally; I open my eyes to make sure I’m still there. Through the hole that my face is resting in, I can see her painted toenails. She’s focusing on my shoulders now when I try to figure out if it’s her hands that are on me, or her entire arms. I can feel an elbow slowly sliding from my shoulder blade to my bottom. Slowly, I feel my toxins releasing, my blood flowing. She moves to the other side without ever taking her hands off of me. A little more lotion is necessary because I must have soaked up the first handful. With my face down, she pulls my hair a bit. Her hands are entangled as my scalp is feeling her fingertips. I’m all hers. “Does this feel good?” she asks. “Yes, it’s perfect” I say. Ok, I’m going to expose your right leg and hip. I’m not sure if she’s warning me or preparing me for more pleasure but I soon will find out. The flowered sheet is gracefully moved to the side exposing too much. My first thought is about my lack of underwear but I quickly get over it when she places her warm hands on me again. Slowly, methodically, she releases the tension. She places my leg in a frog-like position, which makes me feel slightly ackward and exposed but I take it. I was glad I had freshly shaven thighs when she makes her way upward. The feet are next but she doesn’t spend much time there, she’s back up to my hips, which desire attention. Each side gets equal time with her. I fight off sleep and fantasy and try to stay in the moment. I start wondering how much time I have left with her as she starts the music again, still without taking a hand off me. I want to take her home with me and use her daily. I want her to turn me over and work on the front but I know I’m there for my back. All too quickly, she leans down and says she enjoyed our time together. I find it hard to say anything because I feel like I’ve been on a restful vacation. I thank her as she says I can take as much time as I needed to get dressed and then she’ll come back in. I turn over and lie there not wanting to move. My back feels better so I am thankful. I dress, wondering how I can fill my body with water quickly. She knocks, before I say, “come in.” She hands me her card while I pay her less than she deserves. “Is your email address on the waiver, I’d love to email you sometime.” I’m confused to what she’d be emailing me but I answer affirmatively. We walk out together and say our goodbyes. I get in my car thankful to have met her. I take a peek in the rearview mirror and wonder how much lipstick I left on her table because there’s not much on my lips. I lick them and start the car with a deep breath wondering when I can make another appointment.
Please click on one of my links if you expected to find something clever, sexy, or just plain fun today, I'm capable of none of the above. Why? Because I have a pinched syatic (have no idea if that's the correct spelling) nerve. Let me tell you which nerve it is......the one that runs from your back all the way down your leg. This means, I'm in too much pain to sit, stand, walk, and breathe. And for some reason, it's pinching the creative cells in my brain because nothing is coming out. Stabbing pain in my right butt cheek to be exact which at times may sound exciting but not this time. I can't walk right so that sucks, for obvious reasons. I can't breathe without feeling pain, so of course, you can see why that's a problem. I can't even have sex, which actually may be the culprit for the lack of creative brain cells. To top it off, my massage therapist has gone to work. Last night, I made him massage me for hours so I'm sure he's glad to be there. Sorry folks, but in order for me to get back to normal posts, you will all need to pitch in. Some of you can tell me what to do to stop the pain. Some of you can help with the housework and food. And some of you, I'm sorry, but I'll need some deep massages. Just use Mapquest, I'll leave my door open. I'll be the one lying and crying on the couch. Just remember when you meet me, that I'm usually a lot more fun when I'm screaming with delight, not pain.
If you could have seen me last night, you would of thought I was a bit crazy, hearing things perhaps. It's getting hotter by the minute here which means the crickets are mulitplying. They tease me, make me think they're gone for the night, but just as I'm alone or ready to get into bed, the orchestra plays the same old tune. Chirp! Chirp! At first, I close the windows to muffle the noise. It only scares them a bit. Next, I start wandering around the house in search of them, wanting to stomp out the noise. I go into the rooms and flick on the lights in an "ah ha" manner in hopes of seeing just one, but usually, I'm out of luck. Last night around midnight, I lay on the couch flipping through a cooking magazine when they decide to play chicken. They sound like they're right underneath the couch. I know better, so I immediately go to the front door. I don't open it because that would risk one jumping inside to torment me in person. Instead, I bang on the door which silences them for a bit. Take that, and go tell all the others! As I turn back around, they start mocking me. I thought I heard the big one say, "louder men". I start to wonder if turning off the security light would make them seek shelter elsewhere but then I knew I'd just lie there in fear, hoping someone doesn't rob us, because for some reason, I like to think that a simple light on my porch can stop robbers from approaching my house. Cute hubby was away working on a big case so I was trying to stay awake until he returned. I'm sure he thought I was at home watching tv or chatting online, don't get me wrong, I was, but I was also circling the house like a mad woman. I went into the bathroom only to hear more chirping in my closet. Ok, now I'm wondering if they're in my walls. I start banging the walls, telling them to scatter, but they don't. I finally give up and turn some music on, but that made it even weirder. I swear to you, they were in the midst of a duet with my radio. Maybe I should get out my drums and join them since I can't beat them. I realized then, that I was sleep deprived. I cried out, "ok, you've beat me this time damn crickets, but I'll be back". Unfortunately, it's only April and they'll be teasing me until August, so I need to find a clever new strategy or call an exterminator but I won't give up. It's my house and I refuse to let them push me out.
I don't think anyone could live my life better than I. I mean, I honestly think I've done the best job at enjoying every minute and appreciating the things I have. I have two men in my life that are both adorable, both hillarious, and both think I've hung the moon for them. Last night our house was filled with music and laughter. We're not the typical parents who make sure everyone is clean and in bed by seven. In fact, I think the dirtier spirited toddler gets, the more fun he's having. We kept him up last night because we were having too much fun with him. Every night while I'm making dinner, the music is going and the men are dancing. Spirited toddler is in his usual spot, on his dads shoulders, bouncing to the music while looking at himself in the mirror in the dining room. He's at his best when music is either coming out his hands or going into his ears. Most kids like to watch the typical cartoons but ours is rather different. He would prefer to watch music videos. Anything with guitar preferably. When he turned one, cute hubby brought him home a guitar that was the size of a ukele. Spirited toddler picked it up and with hands shaking, kept saying "thank you daddy!" We sat there and clapped for hours while he played us a tune. To this day, it is his favorite instrument. I even made him this guitar strap so he can wear it all day because he used to just cary it and hated to put it down. To our amusement, his favorite game is to act like he's a mariachi. Now, he sees mariachi's quite often because they're a regular occurance at our favorite restaurant. How does a kid "play" mariachi's? He's plays his guitar with all his might, takes a bow, and says......"mariachi's going on break." This means, he sets his guitar down, walks around the couch and comes back so we can clap and ask him to play the guitar again. This ritural happens about 100 times a day at our house and every time, I smile and thank god for my life. His obsession doesn't just stop at guitars but all instruments. This morning, he was sitting on my bongo's, playing the kazoo, while playing the guitar. Our field trips aren't your typical day at the park, no, we go to music stores. We walk in and it's like he's in Santa's workship. I've played the violin for years but he's not allowed to touch it. To make up for it, he actually visits the case, and sometimes sits near it, telling me there's a violin inside. The books we read at night are again, not the typical "Goodnight Moon" but "Howards Screechy Violin" and "The Animal Orchestra." He's taught me how to love every aspect of my life. Just this morning he was in the car playing with a bubble machine, filling my car with georgeous bubbles and I found it very appropriate. While my car was filling up with fun, I felt like the luckies woman in the world.
For about a week now, this woman roller blading would fly past me and say hello. Not just hello, but "hey M" Ok, she knew my name but I had no idea who she was. She'd usually make a sneaky approach from the back and zoom past but going too fast for me to say a word. At first, I thought I was hearing things but it kept happening. On yesterdays jog, she said her usual, but put on the breaks, about ten feet ahead. She then turned around and came at me from the front. I hate that moment when someone knows your name, but for the life of you, you can't remember theirs, so you try to play it off, even thought they probally can tell you've forgotten. Anyway, once she spoke, memories came back. No, I still didn't remember her name but our kids played together about a year ago. I remember going to her son, Benjamin's first birthday party at her house. Well, it was more like a mansion complete with maid, nanny, gardeners, and personal trainers. She was 41 at the time so quite a bit older than most new mothers but we were all intrigued by how she lived. Her body was like this huge amazon woman with deep voice to match, but overall, she was friendly. One of her favorite subjects was weight loss and her struggle, but like most women, this is a common topic. Ok, so seeing her, brought back a feeling of relief that we weren't friends and a sick feeling of curiosity. Here's why...........I started out by commenting on her huge weight loss. That's why she didn't look familiar, she had become this hottie just from rollerblading. "Oh my god, you look great. How much weight have you lost?" "Over 70 pounds from doing this all day." The first thought going through my head was of course sexual, so I said, "your husband must think there's a new woman in his bed." Her angry response went like this, "oh screw him, he hasn't slept with me since the baby was born and that was almost three years ago." To tell you the truth, I actually just stood there waiting for the words to come out but shocked by what she felt comfortable revealing to me in a matter of seconds. I said, "oh my gosh, how can you stand it?" She said, "fuck that, i've got a 28 year old boyfriend and I'm 43. I'm divorcing my husband and taking all of his money. My new boyfriend gives me everything I need." So, I said probally the wrong thing, "oh good for you." What was I supposed to say? We exchanged numbers before she skated off but now I'm left with this wondering what to do with it. Do I do the mature thing and throw it away knowing someone as sick as this doesn't deserve to be in my life? Or do I enjoy it for awhile, accept her back into the mommy ring so I can enjoy her soap opera life? I know it's wrong, but I keep thinking about what a good addition she could be to my usual day full of diapers and baby talk.
Last night I went to the grocery store for wine. They didn't card me which pissed me off. Don't they make those kids card everyone under 40? At that time, my outsides may have reflected my insides for the night. I was buying wine after I had stopped at the bookstore. I wanted to run home, curl up to a good book and numb myself a bit. I'm worried because I've been in a grey area. I'm usually hot pink or purple but who likes grey? I don't do well here because it makes me uneasey. I could go either way, selfdestructive, or inspirational. I mean, I try to at least stay near the envelope if I jump off the edge a bit but lately I've wanted to bungee off. My thoughts are not how I was brought up. On one hand, I know it's the true me, but on the other, what do I do with those thoughts? I tend to get bursts of inspiration from various things, a person, a situation, how that person in that situation made me feel perhaps. That high will last at least a few weeks, getting me motivated to live and become the woman I want to be, but without that high, I'm no good. The problem is, now I need new highs to get me feeling quite as good. It's like an alcoholic needing twice as many drinks to feel like themselves again. The bar keeps raising but how far is too far? I worry myself becaue I don't want to live in a state of contentment but above that, knowing full well both states can be unhealthy for me. I think half of the things I do are to avoid feeling. I wear lingerie to avoid feeling like a mom yet most days at the park, I'm cursing that damn gstring up my ass. I fuck to avoid feeling like a wife yet I'm wondering why he's not making love to me these days. I know why, and it's because he know I prefer the first. Everything I've been doing lately is to avoid feeling like your typical person yet you probally wouldn't be able to pick me out of a crowd. I guess I'm just fighting with myself. When I'm feeling uneasy, I can't sleep of course, which makes me lie there twirling thoughts around until I don't know what the original subjects were. Needing a muse.
Yesterday, I went to the rose garden. I could smell the beauty about three feet before entering. I couldn't decide which one to feel first. I wanted to bathe in their pedals, inhale them all, but I couldn't waste time. I was there on a secret mission this time. Cute hubby wanted to plant roses about two years ago, but to my disappointment, he planted nothing but roots. I wanted to see the flowers already, but he was willing to let them grow, and experience their birth. I'm not willing to wait for anything, but he's willing to nurture them, research what they need, and give it to them. All this required patience, which I don't have. Eventually his hobby drove me crazy. "Did you water the roses?" I don't know how the watering became my job but eventually it did which made me mad. If I missed one day, he paniced. "Come look, I think it's a bud" Of course, I'd drop everything to stand outside and look at a green bud on a green stem, but still now flower so I wasn't satisfied. Today, I sit in our yard,counting.....19,20,21 roses the size of both my fists, and that's just one bush.
As I traveled through the garden, I realized his roses were just as good if not better. I felt a sense of accomplishment myself but I'd never tell him. You see, I need to find the specific names of his roses to enter them in a competition. The little plaques at the base of each plant have great names like, "Mr. Lincoln", "Deep Secret", and "Heart of Gold", which is pink with a gold center. Anyway, I saw one night that he downloaded information for a competition but didn't mention this to me. I know him, and I know he was struggling with wanting to do it but not wanting me to think he's crazy. I guess he thinks it's not very manly, but I could not do what he done already. I am the one who enjoys them everyday when he's at work though. I water them with pride and know they've become ours. This weekend, I'll sneak out of the house to the competition with a car full of clipped stems hoping one will make someone lean over, and with their eyes closed, take a deep breath, and come up feeling a bit happier. I'll know that their happiness came about because of something we've created with care and hard work. They deserve to win, but even if they don't, I know that next year, they'll be even prettier. Hopefully, I can be patient enough to experience it again. As long as I keep watering them and acting like I don't love them, because so far that's worked. The truth is, I think I love them more than he does now and that's okay.
There's a few things this weekend that I became aware of. Simple things really, that I find sexy. Stopping for gas, my lover exits the passenger side to fill up my tank when I glance at him with my side view mirror. I can't see his face but I see his hand in his jeans. The part that is sexy is the wrist, complete with a watch, which accentuates the veins that are visible on his forearm. I look at it and wonder why I think it's sexy. Maybe because I know inside, those pockets are the hands that love me and tease me. The watch itself drives me crazy because it randomly appears all over the house, yet today I find it on him. I also became quite giddy at the site of him coming out of the bedroom wearing jeans that are too big, leaving the plaid boxers peeking out on top. This is not where it ends. He's wearing sandals which show that adorable crooked toe. His second toe on his right foot looks like it was broken and didn't heal properly. I know the truth though, and that it was god given. I also love that that ackward toe now has been passed down a generation. He sits in the office chair talking to me about something I have no interest in. Instead, I approach to trace my finger over the huge scar on his upper arm. A knife left a permenant reminder of a fight when he was drunk and in a bar. I have a strong desire to kiss it, usually when we're in bed. My constant fingering and kissing has probally numbed the area a bit but I still do it. One of my favorites occurs when I'm driving. I became aware this weekend that everytime I'm driving, I slide my hand over to him. I place my hand on his left thigh and occasionally, I let it travel upward while feeling his skin. It's become second nature now. Nervousness no longer occurs, like when we first met, but now it has become a loving reflex. Occasionally, he tells me he likes how it feels but sometimes, he just looks me in the eyes and smiles. Talking to each other with no words. Either reaction causes the same emotions, both of which I love.
I've been full of fear this month. Not your typical fear of spiders, clowns, or flying, but easter candy. Specifically, I'm afraid I'll start eating some and I won't be able to stop. Take chocolate bunnies for example. First you bite off an ear hoping that will satisfy you, but he looks lopsided now, so you have to eat the other ear. Now the taste of chocolate has hit, so you may want to bite off his face to experience it again, but then it looks funny faceless, so you just have to put it out of it's misery. I'm afraid it would only take me a mere 10 seconds to do this. If I love something, I tend to throw my entire heart and soul into it, sugar is not the exception. I'm afraid jelly beans also produce a problem for me. Jelly Belly's are the worst. First, you try your favorites, like pina colada and buttered popcorn, and then you play games with yourself like putting them in your mouth without seeing what color they are and trying to figure out the flavor. "Humm, I think it's rootbeer...nope, try again." Then you get daring and pop two in at a time to create an entire new flavor. Now we're having fun. Of course it takes the entire bag to become a taste testing pro so this again scares me. It's not just specific candy I'm afrid of but all candy and what they can do to me physically so I'm afraid I can not partake in it's pleasure. I mean, Peeps alone can put me in a sugar coma because there's the traditional yellow Peeps, which are delicious but now they've got blue ones, white ones, pink ones, and my favorite, purple ones. The scarry thought is the number of ways these treats can be prepared. You can have them straight from the box, frozen, or the best way, stale. All taste different, and are all worth experimenting with. Don't be afraid, there's no wrong way to eat speckled malt ball eggs. Just pop them in and chomp down, bursting with joy. I fear going into the grocery store and coming out with nothing but chocolate that I devour on my way home so I choose to not visit the grocery store on specific holidays like Christmas, Valentines, Halloween, and now Easter. I'm afraid to admit that my poor family has eaten unspeakable meals lately because of my fears. My culinary degree has not been put to use in the last two weeks mainly because I'm afraid of getting fat. This week alone we've enjoyed frozen pizza, pancakes, peanut butter and jelly, and cereal. As you suspect, everyone has had enough so now I'm afraid they'll fire me. The problem does not end today on Easter though, because now all the candy will be half off which can only lead to more damage. Now my fear is different. I'm afraid I'll miss the sale. I'm afraid I'll regret not buying those half off Cadburry Eggs. I mean the sugary yolk is pure bliss, but imagine if I missed it. I'd have to wait an entire year to get another chance and I'm not sure I'm willing to take that chance. Scarry. For now, I pray my will is strong enough to withstand this holiday but I'm afraid it won't. Just in case, maybe I should go to a chocoholic meeting but I'm afraid they'd tell me I have to admit I'm addicted and then they'll tell me I can't eat chocolate so I'm afraid I'll have to scratch that from my plans. Maybe it's like roller coasters or public speaking. The only way to get over these, as we know, is to do them as often as possible and before you know it, you're a pro. Although, then I'm afraid I'd start looking like a pro wrestler.
I'm almost willing to admit I'm an adult. I realized today that the Easter bunny would not be visiting me, because now, I am the Easter bunny, and that almost makes me an adult. I like my new role and enjoyed buying the matchbox cars to fit in the neon eggs. Tonight as he sleeps, I will find the perfect, not-so-hidden spots to hide them as to ease frustration and obtain pure delight. I think, "poor guy, just when he's got life figured out, he wakes up to parents encouraging him to carry a basket and hunt for eggs which have magically appeared in his backyard", which makes me wonder. Will he expect them there everyday after that? I hope not, but I don't want him to forget the day until the next year, which may bring even more excitement. I remembered getting dressed up and going to the mall, but going to the mall seems pointless this year. Now days, they don't even give you a real picture of your fearful child sitting on a cartoon character, but a mere computer printout of a fuzzy resemblance. Plus, I don't want to freak him out before the actual Easter bunny comes and leaves chocolate replicas of himself, or in this case, herself. Tonight, I will prep him for the events, but I'm sure it will just confuse him even more. I'm willing to take the chance though, just to see his face full of questions, which will last no less than an hour before bedtime. As a kid, I always felt kind of sorry that the Easter bunny never left anything for my parents, but now I realize, as the parents, you've already gotten the best gift, although I may enjoy a box of stale Peeps when no one is looking.
Cute hubby came home last night with gatorade, popsicles, and a trashy magazine so of course, I'm feeling much better. Thanks for your prayers, cards, and flowers. They all helped me gain a full recovery. That, and you can only throw up so many times until there's nothing left. Anyway, this morning was beautiful. I woke up after a full nights sleep to a wonderfully warm shower. I got out only to discover quite a horny husband who was in the mood for a little morning love. This also does quite the trick to making anyone feel better. After he headed off to work, spirited toddler and I went to the zoo. Before the zoo, he had managed to completely cover himself in dinosaur stickers,(spirited toddler, not cute hubby). Sensing his delight, I let him walk around with them even though most were on his face. I was feeling relaxed, confident, and ready to enjoy the day when we walked out the door. Upon arrival, I spoted one of cute hubby's co-workers who everyone hates. They hate her because, 1)her name is Cinnamon, 2)she looks and acts like a stripper, and 3)she's a great attorney. I try not to hate her just based on her looks and name, so I approach with a friendly attitude. She looks directly at my boobs after a quick hello. Normally, I'd understand because my boobs are nice to look at but she's got her own so I don't know what would be so special about mine. I soon realized why most people hate her, and that's because she's quite the snob. We were only talking for about 30 seconds, but in that quick amount of time, she managed to look at my boobs about 5 times so I was a little confused. Now, being a respectable woman, I try to reserve all curse words to approprite times, like when I'm in the car, sporting events, and during naughty sex, like this morning, but after coming home and seeing myself in the mirror, it came out....BITCH! There it was, in all it's glory. I had a sticker on my tit. Not just any sticker but a anklyosaurus. She had the nerve to not tell me but let me look foolish for all the world to see. I typically only see my breasts from a downward angle so I hadn't even noticed it. I called cute hubby and in a frantic voice said, "I saw Cinnamon at the zoo and she didn't even tell me I had a ankylosaurus on my tit." "Um, I'm in a meeting, can I call you back?" I say, "No, this is serious." Looking back, I know I should have probally reserved a "this is serious" phone call to something that'sactually serious and not embarassing but at the moment, it felt serious. Needless to say, he was completly confused, and I was humiliated. After calling me back, he told me that Cinnamon was not in the office today because she said she was sick. Ah ha, Revenge!
The stomach bug has jumpped right off of spirited toddler and into my belly. Poor kid has had three days of puking and now it's my turn. I feel as though this may be my last day here at motime. I am dying and soon I will be enjoying heaven. I hope. Before I make another trip to the porcelin god I must say a few parting words. First, I must think Howard for being my first motime commenter. This made me feel special until I realized you did that for everyone. I'm over it now though. Banzai, thanks for the good movie referals. I hope there are movies in heaven. Dear Brian, thanks sista for laughing at the gangsta blogs with me. If your dates don't go well this weekend, you can borrow cute hubby, for he will be needing a new wife. Hopefully, you're not as cute as me so he'll think his first wife was the best. I am afraid without another woman, he may never be able to find his keys again. Wicked cricket, thanks for improving my sex life. I never thought it was possible but it was. On the other hand, please stay clear from cute hubby, I don't think he could handle it right now, with loosing me and all. Plus, jealousy should not exist in heaven. Zithereeen, maybe you could write a story about me and how I changed the history of blogging. I think you may have to make most of it up but I know you'll think of something. Snookums, to you, I leave my digital camera in case yours breaks or gets lost, but please do not erase the last three pictures of me, they turned out really good. Roger, thanks for the pic of cherry trees, they brought me to tears. Icedish, maybe at my funeral you could talk about how much I loved ice cream and you could raise your cones to me. Leigh, I would give you anything I have pertaining to Huck Finn but I don't have anything. Would you settle for a nice coffee mug with the state of Texas? Mictlan, to you I leave this cool gold lighter I found because I don't smoke. You could light up at night in your dark room and think of the light I brought to motime but I don't think it works very well. Angel, I don't think I can eat the ripe mango in my fruit bowl, so you are welcome too it. Here's to you and your life filled with raw foods. I was never that strong but you were an inspiration. For those of you I did not mention, forgive me but I have forgotten your names. I am fading fast. Pray for me, it seems my mind is first thing that is going. A minute ago, I thought someone was scaring me with a shot towards my house. I looked out the peephole in fright, but nothing. I worked up the courage to say goodbye to the sun when I realized it was just the thump of a new phonebook being delivered. According to the phonebook, I will be remembered at least for 6 more months, or until the next book comes out. If I am dead, I will not be in there and that makes me sad. I do not have many regrets in life but one...i did not learn html so you each did not get the respect you deserved with a link to your name as I mentioned you. Please know you are all special. I also regret not showering today or having the strength to put on make up. Hopefully, they will not find me and say "at least she's at peace now, she looks like she had a hard life." Let them blame the smell on death, I'm ok with that even though I know it's because I haven't showered. Farewell loved ones.
I should really move. Insomnia has been knocking at my door again. I try not to answer it but it must be getting in through the open windows. I'm awake at hours most people are having sweet dreams. I'm busy trying to shut my brain down. Of course, being aware of my not sleeping makes it worse. My body was exhausted so I took it to bed, but somehow my overactive head didn't get the memo. Like a wet dog, I try to shake it off by just getting up and not laying there anymore. I can't seem to have a simple wondering thought these days. Every thought is made into a story or a blog. Simple daily tasks like making coffee and kissing someone get turned around and around until I decide how I would describe it to others. The only thing that seems to slow it down it to just let the stories flow, type it all out of me. I tried the ususal tricks like reading, taking a bath, masturbating, watching an infomercial, but still nothing. After three days of this, I fell like a hamster on one of those exercise wheels. Summer brings out my desire to escape this city. Life brings out my desire to quit work but I know both are impossible right now. I left last night when cute hubby came home because I needed to get away for awhile and just breathe. "Where are you going?" "I don't have a plan. I'm just needing to get my soul adjusted," I said. "Ok, I love you." I walked outside, looked up at the stars and took off. I listened to 10,000 Maniacs and reminisced about college. I drove past the University and kept driving. Me, myself, and my thoughts. I realized being alone was making my predicament worse. I stopped into a coffee shop which was buzzing with excitement. I put the coffee(decaff of course) in the cup holder that I can't live without and drove some more. When I pulled up to the stop lights, I looked directly at the people next to me, wondering what they were escaping from. After awhile, my car drove me back home. I sat in the driveway and ran my fingers through my hair. While looking in the rear view mirror, I applied some red gloss even though I hoped he would be smearing it off soon. He didn't ask questions but hugged me and made love to me without talking. Lights off, but I began to see things more clearly.
My term was up after two years of being the homeowners association vice president. For this, I was thankful and decided not to run again. The meeting was held to elect new officials but I wasn't sure who was running because I didn't go to the meeting. Shortly after the meeting, I kept receiving mail in regards to the homeowners, like who wanted arcitectural plans submitted, who was fined for trash cans, the usual stuff. I disregarded it thinking I was not taken off the mailing list. Next, I received a postcard letting me know when the next meeting was. It also informed residents we would be discussing our problem with weeds. I knew this was a problem so I decided I would go to the weed meeting. I was chatting with my previous board friends when one of them pulled out the chair for me. I was the only woman on the board so I assumed they were just treating me with respect. All of a sudden, they turned to me and asked me to call the meeting to order. "Me?" "Ya, the president usually does it." My ears perked up and my eyes widened with fear. The community was watching so I tried to gain my composure first and would ask questions second. I called the meeting to order when I turned to Seth, the former president, and asked him how I became president. I said, "I didn't even show up to the meeting to run for anything." He said, "well we wanted you on the board." I asked if anyone ran for the position and he said three people had. That means three people showed up and gave "why you should vote for me" speeches but the actual winner wasn't there and never even wanted to be elected. "We didn't want some old lady to fill your spot so I elected you" he said. Well, at first I was flatered but then realized they voted me in because I was cool and not good at enforcing the codes and restrictions. Originally, I ran for vice president because everyone knows that they don't actually have to do any work. The treasurer deals with the money, the secretary writes stuff down, but the vice president just shows up. Now for some reason, I'm the president, so instead of pouting, I stepped up to the plate and decided to have some fun. There's this old grouchy couple who's always there complaining about everyone so I decided to shake them up a bit. They hated us and I didn't care. Knowing full well that above ground pools are prohibited, I suggested we encourage them this summer. They stood up and said I was not following the rules. Believe me, you don't want to live next to an above ground pool family. If it breaks, your house becomes a boat. I turned to Seth and said, "Isn't this fun." He got in on it too and agreed that pools should be encouraged to build community fun. We eventually moved on leaving it to discuss at a later time. Next on the list was a family that had put some creepy troll looking thing in their yard. For the sake of tackiness, they're not allowed but I was on a roll and was willing to overlook it tonight. I said that it didn't really bother me and found the troll cute and a good addition to the neighborhood. They lost it thinking I was serious. Seth was kicking me under the table trying not to laugh when I kindly recommended we stick with our policies and have them remove it. "Maybe we should just allow plastic pink flamingos." They had heard enough. The meeting ended and the grouchy people left when we huddled together and laughed at how much fun we'll have this year.
I shut my eyes so I can't hear them arguing. They assume we're different but I speak their language, full of hand movements and raised eyebrows. With a closed fist circling his chest, he repeatedly signs, "I'm sorry." Their fight spills onto my morning. I take in her anger because now I know what has happened. He slept with another woman, a hearing woman, which to her was the ultimate betrayal. We leave the coffee shop and stand outside while finishing our thoughts. I look up, taking someone's breath in. His smoky exhale fills my lungs. His now calming nerves pass through me as I approach my car. There's a woman in the car next to mine who is trying to smother her fears with fried food. I feel her embarrassment as she tries not to look at me when I smile. To my left, I notice a car pulling up to another. She sneaks into the passenger seat greeting him with a kiss. They smile before escaping off together. The sun begins looking down on me as I feel its evilness appearing on my brow as sweat. I duck into the car and feel thankful for air conditioning again. Finally, I'm in front of the computer again. From the text, I gather he wants to be home, with me, and not sitting in front of his computer. I return his email, hoping he hears my excitement in the words I am sending back.
I count on Mondays to help me get back to being organized and feeling a little less overwhelmed. This Monday is not looking so good. The maid hasn't shown up and I really need her today. Dishes, toys, clothes, and papers are waiting for her. I'd go workout to escape but my personal trainer seems to have other more important clients these days which has caused limp muscles and jiggly buns. Damn her. I'm also beginning to wory because the chef hasn't shown up either. She's usually working on dinner by now but still no sight of her. She didn't show up last night either which caused us to have frozen pizza. After all this rain, I hope at least the gardener will have the respect to come today to pull the weeds and repot the rose but she hasn't come lately either. When the plumer shows up, I was going to try to convince her to clean the bathrooms too but we'll see. The accountant has left her papers here promising to do the taxes but the pile of forms are still blank. That's strange, no one called in late. No one gave me their two weeks. Maybe if I go back to bed for awhile I'll wake up and they'll be here. Maybe if I drink more coffee they'll realize working without a paycheck isn't so bad and they'll come back. They better start paying me more or I'm going to quit. I want a paycheck, a secretary who makes coffee, a water cooler complete with gossiping coworkers, an hour lunch break, and an office that closes at 5pm.
According to my last post, I had a romantic date this weekend but the truth is it went from sad to bad in the end. Any date that ends with one of you throwing up is not a good sign. First let me tell you that if you really knew us, you'd know that I'm always the driver anywhere we go. Not because I'm a control freak but because any moving object tends to make me motion sick. Cars, plane, trains, boats... everyting. Not just a little nauseous but violently ill. On the plane ride to our honeymoon destination, I was puking the entire way. Cute hubby would hold back my hair as I would fill the little white bags. Canada never seemed so far. Once my sister and I went on a crusise when she graduated from college. People kept saying, "don't worry, you'll do fine. The boat is so big that you never feel it." Well the entire cruise was spent with me crying in bed with my sister next to me. I had taken enough dramamine to put me in a coma but none of it worked. By the time we stoped in Jamaica, I couldn't stand due to my inner ear being so out of wack. We paid this Jamaican doctor $300 dollars to fix me but it was only temporary because we still had to get back on the boat. Luckily, it's one of our favorite topics to laugh about these days. Anyway, back to the date. We were enjoying ourselves at the coffee shop so we were late getting to the theater thus leaving the first two rows available for slackers like us. About 15 minutes into it, I felt a wave of hotflashes. Due to my age, I dismissed menopause. Due to not eating dinner, I dismissed our meal. Soon I remembered the same scenario when seeing "Saving Private Ryan." Remember that awfull scene in the beginning? Let's just say both movies caused the same results. Me in the bathroom throwing up. Me splashing water on my face after looking horrified in the mirror. Before getting sick, I stood up with a look on my face that explained it. Cute hubby just got up and followed me out the door. Being the gentleman that he is, he didn't even complain but just took care of me. After gaining composure and getting our money back, I drove us home.
Last night we walked the streets jumping over puddles to get to the playhouse. No play tonight just coffee. It was cold which I couldn't fathom but became quickly aware when I instintively huddled close to him as we approached the door. "Hey, I've always wanted to go in here." I made him take a quick side trip to Hydra. The clothing store next door which has leather skirts, wigs, and perfect boots for anyone with a foot fetish. I've been admiring the mannequines attire everyday when I drive downtown. I'm amazed at how often they're clothing changes but I never see anyone do it. This season they're wearing cute leather shorts with push up bras. Complete with bunny ears I'm assuming are for Easter. Yes, they're holding a basket of eggs. Sexy Easter attire. I wanted to go into the tattoo shop for fun but knew cute hubby was restless so we went inside the Irish coffee house. I ordered the best chai I've had in awhile and he ordered coffee. The first table was wobbly but the second one fit us. I told him it hurt my feelings that he never reads my blog and he said he wanted me to feel free to write about anything. "Ya, but they're always about you." "I get jealous that people are getting to know the real you." I understood and dropped the subject. We talked about my homesickness when he looked me in the eyes with concern. "What I love about you is your sense of adventure and your willingness to do anything. I love your free spirit and how you get excited about life. You know dear, if you live near your family, I'm afraid they will supress that side of you and I don't want that to happen. Remember why you moved here all by yourself?" I heald his hand for secure footing because my eyes started to glaze over with tears. Without a noise, they began to flow. With that, the realization hit and I knew he was right. He didn't say a word but got up and got me a napkin. It sank in and I realized the pain of letting a desire pass. The pain of loving so much that you'd live anywhere with them and forgo all others. Going home meant I'd loose who I had become. I like who I've become in this journey and I don't want to go back. We didn't talk about it again and I don't think we needed to. We kissed passionately because we were the only ones there now but I always feel that way when we're together. He took my hand as we walked back through the door and into the tattoo shop.
After chatting with a friend yesterday who was excited about a new relationship, I became acutely aware of my marrital status. She was spilling over with anticipation and excitement. I quickly got wrapped up in her joy too which was enjoyable. The newness of discovering someone you could love or finding someone who you know you can trust with your heart is quite an experience to be cherished. Although, if I play my cards right, I will never experience a first kiss again. I will never experience a new lover. Unless of course, one of us dies but I don't like to think this way. Instead, we will have deeper experiences that will bring us just as much euphoria. Seeing your lover naked every morning will eventually make you numb to the sight but hopefully, new ones will make you stop and take a breath. Seeing him cry as you push his son into the world is more precious than a first kiss. I know because I've experienced both. Seeing him struggle with decisions about work when all you want is to fix it for him requires the same strength it takes to not wait for his call after a first date. Hopefully, he'll make the right decisions because afterall, they involve you too. Instead, we wonder who will be the first to hold the other while they morn the death of a parent. We wonder how we will respond when our spirited toddler goes to school for the first time. Using your keys to unlock the door of the house you just bought is not something for new lovers either but for seasoned ones like us. But with that, also comes fear and letting go of that fear. People seem to long for long term relationships but when they come along, it can be quite a shock. Unmet expectations are quite the relationship killer. I expected my husband to be able to change a tire and fix a leaking toilet but I'm over that now. I'm not saying don't have expectations but maybe it's better to have them for yourself and not others. These days I try not to think about the things I'll miss like exploring a new lover after a night of getting acquainted. I focus on what new things we will experience together. We'll make our own map. We still have the privledge of getting to know each other in ways others won't and for that I am thankful. Tonight we'll be going to our favorite coffee shop and listen to one another in hopes of finding something else we love about being together. The difference is, I know where we'll sit and how he likes his coffee. I'm comfortable with that.
I spotted our new neighbors. Well, I didn't actually spot them but two cars that must belong to them. To my horror, both cars have Kappa Kappa Gamma stickers in the rear window. For some reason, I just assumed college guys would move in, not girls. I kept looking out the window in hopes of spotting them but they never appeared. The cars were gone when I got back from the store. When cute hubby called, I shared the news. Originally, he was a little nervous the house would be filled with hot guys to keep his wife entertained all day. Of course the silly jealousy of it made me laugh but now the shoes on the other foot. Cute hubby actually had the nerve to suggest I make them a "gift basket" of cookies to get on their good side. Now deep down inside I know he was thinking cookies = respect for us which = less noise and trash hopefully. I flipped. "You want me to make those girls who can't even keep their pants above their butt crack, cookies?" Ok, I know I'm assuming they'll be sluts because every college coed is lets face it, a little slutty. Anyway, he could tell he hit a nerve so all-night I had to listen to him fake meeting the neighbors. It went something like this...(all these quotes should be said in a high pitched flirtatious voice to enjoy the true humor) "Girls, can we keep it down over here?" "Ok ladies, no pillow fights without me." "Girls, did you have boys over last night? You naughty things." After a few of these, it became quite an amusing game. Then with a straight face, cute hubby said, "of course we should help them move in." The worst part is that he was serious about this one. I quickly informed him we didn't help the last people move in and no one helped us move in so that would never happen. Then to try to get on my good side, he suggested that they could baby-sit. Ok, I've watched enough trash TV to know I should never let a young blonde college girl into my house to watch my spirited toddler because soon I'll come home to her fucking my husband in my own bed and then I'd have to kill her. I'm not willing to take the chance. This morning cute hubby said, "call me when you find out what they look like," joking of course but to tell you the truth, I hate them already. No gift basket for them unless they're ugly.
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