Apr
12
Checking in
Filed Under Uncategorized | 36 Comments
Having a startlingly good time . . .
XOXO.
Apr
10
Exposure
Filed Under Uncategorized | 35 Comments
The worst part about being away from home and having JB gone is the stretch of time between about 9-11:30 PM, after everyone else has gone to bed and I’m sitting in my in-laws’ living room with only the chooka-rrr . . . chooka-rrr of Dylan’s swing to keep me company and there is no TiVo there is no TiVo dear god there is no TiVo.
Otherwise things are going very well; if I am occasionally bored and restless it is also true that I would be about a thousand times more bored/restless at home on my own. I was lying in bed last night listening to the tiny whuffling sound of Dylan’s breathing and the occasional mattress squeak of Riley shifting his weight in the bed in the next room and I realized how grateful I am to not be alone with the kids for the entirety of JB’s trip — not that I couldn’t handle the day to day stuff, exactly (although honestly I’m not 100% entirely positively sure that I could have, ha ha ha ha AIEEE), but it’s just so much nicer to have people around to help. Especially in the middle of the night when I would otherwise be entertaining creepy visions of masked robbers bashing in the front door and heading down the hall to menace my defenseless family, which could happen here too I suppose but I’ve got a Nam vet one door down whose belief in the Second Amendment borders on frothy-mouthed mania so EAT HOT LEAD HAMBURGLAR.
I am also glad for the presence of other adults when Riley’s pitching his fifteenth shrieking fit of the day, because nothing is quite so sanity-preserving as the ability to roll your eyes at someone else while your kid is acting like a deranged rhesus monkey. We have entered somewhat of a Tantrumy Stage lately, or maybe I should say an Even More Tantrumy Than Normal Oh Help Me Jesus Stage, and his father’s absence doesn’t help matters. I mine myself on an hourly basis for deeper reserves of patience but there is only so much a person can take before they slit their eyes at their sweet young son and hiss “Stop that horrible noise or I will have you deported to Mars where you belong.” Which is to say the ongoing distraction of a grandparent taking Riley for a walk or reading him a book or simply being present to help absorb some of the unholy racket along with me is a great help.
I left the house on my own yesterday to attend a class called “Turbo Kick” at the local gym, which just by itself was an activity for which I feel I should maybe receive a Purple Heart (a GYM! A gym I’d never been to! An unfamiliar class full of strangers! The possibilities for various forms of humiliation were endless!), but it turned out to be entirely awesome — the format was very similar to Turbo Jam so for once I wasn’t the jackass in the back of the class going, wait, what the fuck was that arm thing you just did?, and I was stupidly thrilled to be out and about with no kids in tow.
Less thrilling was the realization halfway through the class that the white t-shirt I was wearing was a poor choice, as it got unflatteringly clingy and vaguely see-through as the class wore on, revealing bit by bit that my ill-fitting sports bra wasn’t exactly Taking Care of Business — my hooters, having been flung this way and that, had become all whomperjawed, with one nipple (shamefully making itself known thanks to the exercise/sweat combo) way over there and the other (equally flagrant in its display) way over here. If there is a way to casually and unobtrusively adjust one’s breasts in a room surrounded by both people and mirrors, I was sadly unable to figure it out, and so ended up rooting frantically down the front of my shirt as if I were trying to forcibly take myself to second base. I should watch it, really, this is a VERY small town and that’s exactly the sort of thing that could land me in the front page of the local paper: WOMAN MAULS OWN BOOBS IN PUBLIC, EXPLAINS ONLY THAT THEY ‘WEREN’T BEHAVING’.
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