The Talk

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“Dad?” he asks in a quiet voice, “you know that word sexy?”

“Yeah,” his dad replies.

“Well, what if you took off the last part of that word? What does that mean? I mean, I hear people say it all the time and it’s in songs and stuff, so I just wanted to know…what does it mean?”

You guys! I’m not ready for this!! I can’t handle the fact that my little baby, that tiny little thing that I held in my arms not that long ago, is now asking questions about sex. His dad talked to him for a long time, told him that if he had any more questions that he could always, always come to one of us. I guess it went okay, because at the end of the conversation he said, “Wow, you and Mom must love each other a lot to have made me.”

And that’s all I ask for.

Shameless Self-Promotion

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Hey everyone! I’m featured today on Bluntmoms! Check it out…

I Didn’t Give Up On Him

Reveal

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An old therapist of mine used to ask me, “Do you really think that the universe cares that much about you?” This was in response to my frequent statements that I would “jinx” something by talking about it. And of course, my answer is yes, yes I do think that the universe cares that much about me, at least enough for something to be jinxed.

So it is with a deep breath and trepidation that I reveal this: my husband is a recovering addict. He’s been clean for about a year now, but I still am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the cycle to start all over again. Hence my fear of “jinxing” life, because things are going so well right now.

However, it has been a long, hard road. We’ve gone though a lot. It’s more his story to tell then mine, but I can say that everything you hear about addicts and that you watch on “Intervention” probably happened to us. He would do anything, and I mean ANYTHING, to get drugs and to hide the fact that he was doing them. I left more than once but something (love?) made me give him one more chance. And then another. My family doesn’t agree with my decision to stay with him, and I can’t say I blame them. But as of today, he is sober and doing exactly what he needs to be doing for his family. I’m so proud of him, and I knew through everything this person was waiting inside him. I’m glad I stayed. Of course there are issues, there are always issues, we’re married. But all in all, I hope that I have made the right decision and that things will continue the way they’re going now.

Happy

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All I can say is, a dance party always makes you feel better. Sunday night blues were blown away as he giggled, threw his hands up and shook it for all he was worth. We laughed till we were breathless, and the rent was paid and the groceries bought and a really good old song playing.

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When it’s late at night and I can’t sleep, the panic comes and settles into my stomach. All the things that have gone wrong, all the ways I have failed, swirl around my mind and I can’t turn it off, I just want to sleep and these thoughts keep racing…
I think of all that I’ve lost and I wonder if it’s worth it. Existentialism at its best, at 1:28 in the morning and I’m counting the number of hours I’ll get if I go to sleep now…now…

*bits

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I’ve had writer’s block yet have been yearning to write. I have written so many posts only to delete them in a fit of self doubt.
Friday night and I’m watching Netflix and eating Little Debbie snack cakes. The people going up and down the stairs outside my apartment sound like they may be a thousand pounds.
Tonight at bedtime Cole wanted to talk about Heaven. We are reading “Peter Pan” and he kept interrupting me.
“What do you do there? What does it look like? Do you think it’s all clouds?”
I try and answer as best and as honestly as I can, but tell him I don’t know anything for sure because I’ve never been there. He seems satisfied and allows me to read on. His hair! Oh his hair. He is growing it out, and it is currently in a phase that screams No One Cares. He looks like an orphan, truly. I smooth that hair away from his forehead, kiss his rounded cheek.
There is a nice cool breeze coming through my open window. I can’t wait to go to bed, hope that I will be able to sleep. I’ll watch a little more T.V. and be glad I don’t have to work tomorrow. I try not to worry about the usual things.

Grandma

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“Happy birthday!” I sing into the phone, holding it out. I motion for him to chime in.
“Happy birthday,” he says dutifully.
“We love you!” I hang up the phone. I knew she would be out with her friends, but thought I might catch her in between parties. She is out being celebrated by many, many friends.
She is eighty six years old today…Grandma.

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She picks me up in the car she’s had for thirteen years, the car she will only take to the dealership for service, service that she takes care of religiously. The car smells of Pond’s and her perfume and a tinge of new car-ness. She is proud of herself for finding me, tells me she hasn’t been downtown in ages. She looks to me for direction and I point the way. We are on our way to pick up Cole at school.
“Now you know he’s gonna want ice cream,” she says. I don’t want to inconvenience her anymore than I already have, insist she just take us home. I know we will be stopping for ice cream…

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She had three little girls when her abusive husband walked out on her, leaving her with nothing. She worked her way up from bus driver to teacher in a special education facility. She kept a house and made sure those little girls had everything they needed, and she did it on her own. I wish I could be half as strong a woman as she is.

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We have always been close; when I was young it didn’t matter where she was going, I wanted to go with her. We went on trips, camping. I am her “baby girl” and she is my everything. When I tell my mom I’m running away, I am of course going to her. If I get in trouble for something, I beg my mom not to tell her. She thinks I’m perfect, and I don’t want to do anything to mar that picture.

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Yesterday I called and asked her for a favor, a ride, and without hesitation she asks where she should pick me up. I can always count on her, no matter what. But, she tells me, she has to hurry home because she has dinner plans. She has the most active social life of anyone I know. I am just grateful to be able to spend those few precious moments with her.

Happy Birthday Grandma.