Secrets

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He shyly looked at me with those big brown eyes, grinned that gap tooth grin, and whispered, “Want me to tell you a secret?”
“Sure!”
He moved in closer, breath hot on my ear. “T (his best school friend) has a girlfriend.”
He sits back, gauging my reaction. I simply nod, a noncommittal “mmmhmm”. This isn’t it.
He leaned in again, and these words are said in a rush, one hurried stream.
“IhaveacrushonKaydence.”
“You do? You have a crush on Kaydence?” This is a name we’ve heard before, on the fringes of his constant chatter.
He nodded, not looking at me.
“Well that’s good, buddy. That happens to everyone. Just be nice to her and be friends.”
“Yeah,” he said, slipping under my arm, leaning into me. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Did YOU ever have a crush?”
“Of course. I had lots of crushes in school. And my last crush was Dad.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Okay.” He is done now, secrets spilled. He is ready to move on. He skipped out of the room, and I called to him, ” Thanks for trusting me with your secret! I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“I’m going to tell Dad,” he tossed over his shoulder, and went off to find him.
I hope he always trusts us with his secrets, though I know this is probably unrealistic. For now, I will be thankful that he does.

Broke, Broker, Brokest

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No one ever wants to talk about money, or lack thereof. However, it’s something that most of us think about, probably a lot. At least, I know I do. We are a family that lives paycheck to paycheck, and sometimes not even that. We don’t have credit cards, because that’s just a bad trap to fall into and we don’t really qualify for any that would help us out at all anyway. Both my husband and I work full time jobs and still come up short.

Broke is using the same damn picture frames for seven years because you just can’t justify buying new ones (I’m thinking of this because I hung some pictures yesterday, and then last night while we were watching TV the glass fell out of one of the frames and came down on our heads). Broke is driving around in a car with over 250,000 miles on it, a car that has sometimes questionable brakes. Broke is sometimes picking things up in the employee cafeteria at work, because you can put it on your employee badge and have it taken directly out of your paycheck. Broke is never having extra, struggling to pay for groceries and your basic utilities. Broke is not having a computer at home, so you have to risk getting in trouble and write your blog posts at work. I think our biggest “extra” is cable, and dude, if you can’t afford to do anything that requires leaving your house, you have to have SOMETHING!!

Summer isn’t so bad because you can go for a walk, you can go to the park, and going swimming isn’t terribly expensive. We try to get a festival or a fair in there every so often, too.

We are not DESTITUTE, we are SURVIVING, some days I would even say THRIVING, but it IS difficult to live paycheck to paycheck. I would love to have money for those little extras, or not have to worry about every single cent that leaves my pocket. I don’t want anyone thinking that we are just dying over here, because we’re not. I’m just saying what lots of people go through everyday, and it’s a struggle.

*Donations are accepted and appreciated.* <—— Sarcasm!!

Today

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He was so excited to wake me up this morning, and though my husband had the best intentions to try and let me sleep in, there was a not-so-subtle tapping at the bedroom door. He had made me two art projects at school, one of them a coupon book he was eager to use; I had a back rub and his bed was made before I had wiped the sleep from my eyes. He danced around the living room, so proud of himself.
We dug out one of his baby photo albums and he is fascinated with himself, cuddling up with me and turning each page, ever so carefully. You would never know that we were rookies, that most days it was all I could do to make it to bedtime. All he sees is a happy baby, a good childhood, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.
He is the reason I celebrate today, because he made me a mother. And when I look at him and think how smart, kind, wonderful he is, and what a gift he is to everyone, I’ve done a damn good job.
Happy Mother’s Day, indeed.

Big Meeting

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I know that I’ve left everyone hanging…I make a big fuss about the Big Meeting with my mom and then I just go off the radar for a couple days… I’m sorry! The truth is, I was (am) still processing everything. I’m cautiously optimistic, I think.

So we decided to meet at a restaurant right by my house. I decided to go with casual clothes, no make-up. I walked into the restaurant with my heart in my throat… I didn’t know the first thing to say! I started with Hi, because my mom was already there and seated. She looks the same, maybe a little older in the face. She greeted me back and then we sat there.

“I don’t know where to start,” I admitted.

“Well, you’re kind of the one that initiated this meeting, so what did you want to talk about?”

“I just–I feel like it’s been too long and I want you and Cole to have a relationship. I needed a break from you and everyone in the family but now things are better and I feel that I’m in a better place and it’s just time.”

We decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to rehash everything that went wrong, though of course we both caught ourselves doing just that throughout the conversation. There were tears, from both sides. After we had finished eating we decided to sit outside for a while because it was gorgeous out. We sat on the grass and both immediately started picking at it. I told her some things that had hurt me, she told me some things that had hurt her. We both apologized, both said that it was never our intention to go this long without speaking. She told me that I have burned a lot of bridges, meaning extended family, and when we were talking about my stepdad I broke down (again). But we were there, we were talking, and we have plans to take Cole to the playground next weekend.

So as I said, I am cautiously hopeful. By no means do I think that we will just go back to being BFF, that happy family that I miss. I know that time heals, and keeping the lines of communication open between Cole and his grandmother is what is most important to me right now. I hope that we are on the right track, but who knows. Like I said, I’m still digesting things, still thinking of things that were said and processing information. But I’m choosing to be hopeful, choosing to look on the bright side.

Top Five Reasons I’m Not Really an Adult

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1. I never have enough toilet paper. Sometimes you have to use tissues, sometimes even paper towels (ouch!) But I just can’t seem to remember to buy it consistently.
2. I listen to the music LOUD in the car, and sing along….I have even been known to throw in some hand motions. Much to the complete embarrassment of my son.
3. My wardrobe is pajamas. Seriously, if I’m at home, and I usually am, it’s pajamas.
4. Sometimes I watch Disney movies by myself. I try and coax Cole into watching them with me so it won’t be as weird, but he loses interest as soon as any kind of singing starts.
5. Cabbage patch doll from when I was three…yeah, she’s in my (marital) bed right now. Even though the dog ate off part of her face and now she looks more horror movie than childhood memory.

I Drank 4 Margaritas

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First drunken post but not really even that drunk, just had four margaritas but also are a shit ton of nachos so figure that evens out somehow. Went out with girls from work + one girl’s cousin. Played “I Never” like I was in college. Came home & suddenly was fighting with Adam but I honestly couldn’t tell you why. I hate fight

ing

. Should I post this rambling? Guess I can’t handle my alcohol like I used to, being an old married mom and all. I’m still mad at Adam. Friends reruns on the T.V and I’m seriously considering eating the other quesadilla in the refrigerator. I’m lonely and my feelings are vaguely hurt and I’ve just about decided on the quesadilla. Cole will be up early, I should try and go to bed soon. My drunk posts are not fun, they seem to be maudlin and depressing. I shouldn’t drink….

Love and S**t

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In five days, it will be the anniversary of the day that I met my husband, twelve years ago. I remember gathering at my friend’s house and picking out an outfit (boots, jeans, a red shirt with ties in the front), giggling and trying to figure out what he was like. My other friend was setting us up, and we went to a bar and met her boyfriend and Adam there. The first thing I thought about him was that he was very short, hoping that I wasn’t taller than him in my boots. The second thing I noticed was that he had a very nice smile, and then I saw that he was wearing an unfortunate pair of black shorts (that I believe I just threw out a couple years ago, though I was never seen in public with them again!). Adam is a people person, and will make friends with anyone in the room, so we didn’t have any trouble making conversation. I really, really liked his smile. We ended up leaving the bar and going for ice cream, just the two of us. It was the middle of the night and I drove a huge Buick at the time. We were driving down the road when suddenly Adam said, “Uh, Devon? The door won’t close.” He was literally hanging onto it as we went so as not to fall out on the pavement. I was so embarassed! We had to make a pit stop to get some duct tape and Adam taped the door shut (foreshadowing to MANY, MANY car repairs in the years to come.) We got our ice cream and headed back to my friend’s house, where Adam’s car was. Just before he got out of the car, he smiled that smile at me and told me that he had had a nice time, and then he kissed me.

We basically grew up together. That night we met grew into a first date (Olive Garden, klassy!) and two months later we were living in our own apartment. We were twenty three.

We have been through SO much. Tears and surgeries and babies and marriage and death and so many other things. He has always been able to make me laugh; I think that’s why we’ve lasted as long as we have, because no matter what we can laugh about it. He knows the careful arrangement of my covers before I can sleep, and I know that most nights I will have to wake him on the couch to come to bed. He can tell if I’m upset by my sigh. I know if something is bothering him because he stops talking (and NOTHING makes him stop, nothing). We made a beautiful son together.

Two years ago, we went through the toughest point in our relationship thus far. We actually seperated for a short period of time, but in that time I realized that I take my marriage vows very seriously and wasn’t willing to let 10+ years go just because of a bad year. We had so many GOOD memories and then one bad year and a half. We went to counseling and emerged, I think, stronger than before.

Adam’s mom shared a story of when we were first dating. She asked him if he thought this was serious, if things would go further. He looked at her and replied, “Mom, I love the shit out of her.”

I still love the shit out of him, too, and I’m glad we stuck it out.