Day Nine: Two smileys that describe your life right now.
This one is easy. :) and :)
I really couldn’t be happier. So very much to be thankful for. Hope you’re all with your family enjoying a day dedicated to remembering the things we need most. Food, friends, family and wine.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Day 55: A test of Patience, Flip the Perfect Pancake!
Today’s challenge is called a “test of patience” and invites you to learn to flip the perfect pancake. Well, I can’t. And it is not for lack of trying. In fact, I can’t even cook the perfect pancake. And I think it is largely because I lack patience. When MQD and I first started dating and he first started hanging out with Em and me he would make pancakes pretty frequently on the weekends. I didn’t realize that I had managed to do this, (and it was not my intent) but one morning Em asked for pancakes and specifically asked MQD to make them. I thought she just liked his better than mine. Until she pointed out that she didn’t think I knew how to make pancakes. Only Mike and Daddy. Perfect. Em thought I didn’t even know HOW. I was off the hook permanently.
And truthfully? I don’t think I have made pancakes since. I make waffles. And they’re tasty. But they don’t require patience. Don’t open the waffle iron until it beeps. Done.
Several weekends ago we had a weekend guest. A guest that can flip the perfect pancake and I thought about asking him to teach me. But in thinking about that I realized that he has already taught me patience. It’s funny that I am sitting down to bang out my feelings on this today of all days, the day before Thanksgiving.
Three years ago I had a turkey sandwich from the Kangaroo in Newport News on Thanksgiving day. I had just dropped off Emily with Jer and my in-laws for Thanksgiving. I was invited to stay but elected to get on the road so there’d “be less traffic.” Truth be told I couldn’t keep myself from crying and would rather just rip the band-aid off. It was the first holiday I’d spend away from her. I drove all day towards Chapel Hill. I pulled in Amy’s driveway in Hillsborough at about six that evening, stopping for another gas station turkey sandwich. She wasn’t home yet and I called her parent’s house to see if she was on her way. I had my laptop and I could get on her wi-fi from my car. I double-checked my email, again. It was still there. The email from a landlord that was happy to show me an apartment the following day. A landlord that didn’t care to check my credit. A landlord that would walk through the apartment I’d later rent and turn his face while I weeped, pretending he didn’t see me.
That weekend was messy, full of tears and wine and laughs and new friends. On Monday I went back to the beach. And I moved the following weekend. I might be the only woman in the history of the world that ever separated from her husband and enlisted him to help her pack and help her unpack, but I did. When he left my apartment the day I moved in my family was still there, and a few of my friends. He gave me a hug and he said I was “gonna be okay.” A question I asked him often for years, always “is it gonna be okay?’
That day I thought we were starting over. That our friendship would begin anew that day and somehow we’d be this unstoppable force, parents, ex-spouses, friends. The following year brought many arguments and ugly phone calls. We were “friendly” in front of Emily but the ease we’d always had with each other was gone. As my life moved forward and his did, too, we didn’t share the day-to-day. We didn’t know each other anymore in the familiar way we had and nothing had moved in to take its place. There was just an empty spot where our marriage had been.
A couple years later when MQD and I got more serious and I could see the future I was building I felt like it was important to try to extend my hand in friendship, again. Jer came to visit, to get our Christmas tree. It was awkward. We were polite. I invited MQD over that evening so that Jer could meet him. And then I beat feet outta there as fast as I could. I spent the night out with MQD that night and argued with Jeremy when I got home in the morning. I was ready. Ready for us to talk about my relationship with MQD and about the future and about how we’d work it all out. He didn’t want to. Worse than that he wouldn’t even really argue with me. He was just gone. Christmas passed with more polite conversation.
In February of 2009 I sent him an email.
I know you’ll likely not reply to this email but I wanted to talk to you. I think it is really important for us to be able to maintain a dialogue about Emily in order for us to be the best parents we can be. And I think we’re doing a great job with this. But …. I also think it is important for us to be able to have a dialogue about well…. us. Not about you and me, but about you and about me. No one has known us, either of us like we know each other and I hadn’t bargained on this. Losing our friendship all together. Maybe I’m naive, but I thought we could do this, and still have each other.
It was about twenty months later that he called and said “Hey, can you call me back when you have a minute? I need to run a few things by you, figure out what I am gonna do.” It was my friend Jeremy. Calling me to ask for advice. Because no one has known him longer.
The following week the house guest, the one that can flip a perfect pancake, came to stay the weekend. We all stayed up late, laughing, talking about music and telling stories, playing games. We made Chicken Penne. We took Em out to run around downtown. We all went for pizza. And ice cream. And beers at He’s Not Here. We watched the SweetWater Brewing Co painter paint a new logo on the wall. We talked about Jer’s plans to move off the beach soon. Maybe to Colorado,
maybe someday settling closer to his little lady. MQD and I talked excitedly about wedding plans and the band that we hired. We all talked about the future. Not the past.
He left a day later than we’d planned. At MQD’s suggestion that he stay another night so he could go by Em’s school on Monday morning.
So… three years. It took three years. My old friend, Jeremy, came to visit. He came to visit my home, my amazing fiancée and our, all of our’s, beautiful daughter. It was worth the wait. And pancakes are over-rated. Friendships are never perfect, anyway. I’ll take friendship over a perfect pancake.
This post is for you, Mike. Oddly. Your patience with me has given me the strength and the capability to heal. I know it has not been easy. I know it has been maddening at times. I do not know how you have held my hand through the last two years. I hope that you did it because you knew this day would come, and that it was worth it. Because while my friendship with my ex-husband will benefit Emily, and it will benefit me, surely, it stands to strengthen you and me and our marriage more than I ever knew. I have moved on. I have let go. I can love you with all of my heart, with everything I am and not look back. And I have only you to thank for this. Your understand and your encouragement and more than anything your love and your commitment. You made me see a future where I’d never thought there’d be one. And god damn… it looks good, babe. That future looks really good. I love you, babe.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
In thinking about this the last few minutes I realized (for the first time TODAY, certainly not the last) what a big, fat sap I am. For such a crass girl, I sure have a sweet spot for romance.
Or if you really want to melt me…. look at me like this.
And then like this….
Day Seven: Four turn offs.
(P.S. I recognize how absurd it is to say I am “turned-off” by people who are close-minded AND then list an arbitrary characteristic like height. But below you’ll see there is a reason, really, there is.)
This reminds me of a tale from long ago that I recently shared with a couple of friends via email. Pasting it here to share with the rest of you, it is a pretty fair description of what it is I don’t find attractive about short men. As well as a good example of my inability to censor myself.
You know when someone repeats something to you that you said and you think “oh no… I totally said that, it sounds just like me.”
Way back a hundred years ago I was tending bar and I had a great customer, he was at my bar every night and he LOVED me. He was very short. This didn’t stop him from laying it on thick, nightly. He comes in one evening and he is a little more tight-lipped than normal. I said “What’s the deal? You over me?” And I laughed.
He says “Well, since you said what you said last night I guess I don’t have a chance, huh?” And all of a sudden it all started to come back, I remembered running in to him at the bar late night.
Foolishly, I said “What the hell did I say?”
He says with a sheepish grin “You said you like to kiss and fuck at the same time.”
All I could say was “Umm, yeah, I pretty much do.”
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
I have a tough time separating “units” of people. So, in some ways I guess it would be cheating to put together a list like this.
Not particularly interesting. But 100% true. I am so very lucky to have amazing friends. But I think I am even luckier that the people I call my family are among them.
Day 54 is the best challenge yet, if you have the intellect of a middle school boy. And I do. Today’s challenge was to count the number of times you umm… passed gas. Now, I’d suggest you stop reading if you are under the mistaken impression that I am either a) a lady or b) possessing even a moderate amount of class. I should preface this all by saying I had kept the joy I found in a well-timed fart under wraps until I had an audience. Becoming a mother strips you of your shame. And I didn’t have a lot going in.
So… count your farts. Simple mission for the day. I’d planned to execute this challenge Friday and then there were people in the office ALL day. It was almost 6 pm and I had had zero farts. Lame. Redo.
In preparation for Saturday’s mission I drank a bunch of beer on Friday evening. Really. That’s why. What? It worked.
Woke up Saturday morning and managed to pull one of my favorite jokes on Emily before we’d even made breakfast. “Hey, I have a secret?” Fart. #1. Morning progressed nicely with #2 and #3 immediately following the morning’s breakfast of eggs. Ran some errands for a bit so the late morning was relatively uneventful. Returned home where MQD insisted there was no way I was only up to #4. 4 through 7 were intentional and added for comedic value. Dinner was more eggs (Yum, arrabiata made by the man!) so I blasted right in to the low teens while Em and I had a competition of sorts. I told you. We are gross. Shameless. And frequently laughing at our own body functions. I managed to “holler back” to MQD on at least one occasion, a very gross and extraordinarily crass skill I have perfected since meeting this fine young man that shares my sick sense of humor.
All in all it was a grand day. I came in high, for sure, sitting pretty at around 17 when MQD fell asleep on the couch around 10 pm and I no longer had anyone to giggle with, making my efforts far less amusing.
Incidentally, if you’ve not read The Gas We Pass.… get on it. It’s an informative follow-up to Everyone Poops.
Posted in Family, This Book Will Change Your Life
Tagged Immaturity, This Book, This Book Will Change Your Life
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
I try to live without regret. The big things, the hard things, the things that make me who I am, there’s nothing I’d change. Because I believe in my heart of hearts I am the person that I am because of the choices I have made. This makes forgiveness a hard thing for me to wrap my mind around, both of myself and of others. Because I think people really are a sum of their parts. But I’ll give this a whirl.
And one to grow on… said the girl who has no regrets. I wish I hadn’t discounted the necessity of women in my life for so long. I was “one of the boys” for a long, long time. And I thought it was because I didn’t really like women, or they didn’t like me. I can see now it was because your girlfriends don’t let you get away with shit . They call your bluff and see right through you. I’m glad I figured this one out when I did. But I can’t imagine how much less lonely I’d have been if I’d figured it out sooner.
And just because this makes me giggle…
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
This is a pretty easy challenge, as I am fairly simple-minded.
Yup. Sex places twice. Amidst food, my disbelief over how lucky I am and how beautifully my life has come together, my overwhelming love for my daughter, my inability to not both laugh and cry when the spirit moves me … yeah… that’s about right. That’s pretty much what I think about. In between thinking like a fourteen year old boy.
Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Quick and dirty, right to the point…..
Day Two: Nine things about yourself.
And as for Day 53’s challenge to “Return to Sender” all my junk mail, I finally got some last night. (Heh, some junk mail, I mean.) However, none of it is really worth sending back.
Can’t send back catalogs, they provide countless hours of entertainment in our house. They barely qualify as “junk mail.” And while I generally consider unsolicited requests for charitable donations to fall in the category of “junk mail” I am not going to go to mail it back to them, costing them time and money in processing its return. So, in order to keep today from being a total wash, I did look up the way to stop receiving ValPak coupons. Because they annoy the crap out of me. I have never used one. Ever. And yet, I’d bet there are a few on my fridge right now.
Now, if you’ll excuse me I am gonna wake this lazy bag o’ bones and take him outside for a few.
Excitement on the side 