I’m back to my infectiously happy self. I’m beaming. People everywhere tease me and ask about the new guy in my life. I blush.
Nope. No guy. No man. Nada, nada, nada…. No gracias.
It’s me, I’m back.
I’ve missed me. It’s like coming out of a fog. I’m baking. Sewing. Planting. Transplanting…. and walking the five minutes to my daughter’s school every day to pick her up. I’m so filled with joy at having these moments back that my chest aches a little. We’re cooking dinner together and taking bike rides afterward.
I’ve lost 12 pounds not being surrounded by fried food. I have a lovely tan from spending so much time in the greenhouse. My tomato plants are thriving and I spend my mornings dancing in the greenhouse in a swimsuit, watering my little green children. I’m beside myself with joy.
My finger & toenails are painted. My dishes are done and the laundry is clean, folded and put away. I’ve had time to go to the grocery store and I’ve been making marshmallows for the market this weekend. I’m getting ready for a yard sale. I’m working with what I have until I start working again.
Not dating, and more importantly taking the time to actually write about my Puerto Rican nightmare. I’m taking the next two weeks offline. Unplugging the computer and shutting off the DirectTv. Diving in to this rare opportunity to be the housewife I used to be and get my own home and life in order. Building fences and baking cookies. Slipping back into a dress and heels, my uniform of choice.
I’d gotten lost. I forgot to do what really makes me happy and the rest falls into place. I don’t want to date some idiot. I don’t want to drink after work with coworkers every night my daughter is gone. Yeah the house is empty but it’s also a pretty cool place to hang out, and I’m happier at home. I’ve been sewing curtains and diaper covers and monsters.
I’ve been getting rid of the excess in our lives and in our house so that we have less upkeep.
and I’ve been spending some serious time playing Bejeweled.
Unemployment is absolutely terrifying when you’re a single mom, and it’s going to be another 5 weeks before my unemployment starts to come in. Yikes… but I love a challenge and I’m resourceful as hell when it comes to being broke. I dated an unemployed hippie for 7 years. I could impress the world with how many things I can do with rice.
I’m living my life again- and not someone elses. I have clean sheets on my bed and clean socks in the drawer. Homemade spearmint soap in the shower and freshly bleached towels.
I’m a domestic hurricane of happiness, and it feels SO fantastic.
I’ve lost some friends, enemies and a job… but I’ve gained my life, my happiness and my self respect back.
Life is uncertain, but it is so good when you’re living true to yourself. It’s a scary good change and such a blessing in disguise.
This too shall pass, so while it’s here I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it. ♥
I’m spending time with dear girlfriends- and you know what they say… you find out who the real ones are when the chips are down. I’ve heard from a few of my favorite customers expressing their appreciation and someone left a six pack of beer on my porch the other day.
Simple kindness and delighting in the simple things in life reminds me what is truly important.
We’re going to go see the new baby chicks that hatched in my mama’s chicken yard this week and to collect eggs. I’m begging little red to let me go along on the field trip with her school tomorrow. I realize all the things I’ve missed that are so important and so vital to life being worth anything at the end of the day.
I’m breathing again, smiling and I’m grateful. It’s good to be back. ♥
I had a much needed light week. I applied for a few new jobs and gave up a few of my hours at work. I swam in the joy of motherhood- which saves me every time. We giggled and rode bikes. We cooked together and side by side when we invited everyone over for dinner. At one point I was breaking the bottoms off asparagus spears and I had to stop and watch her for a moment.
My little princess isn’t so little anymore. She’s growing up…. and it leaves me with a big lump in my throat when I think about it. It’s gone by so fast, and only continues to go by faster.
If you blink- you might miss it. I know people told me that, but I never believed them until I saw it with my own eyes.
She’s so delightful- and we have the best time together… it just goes by so quickly, especially when you add work and school to the equation. I spend my life missing my kids and as the years tick by, it doesn’t get any easier. We had a fantastic week, followed by a dinner party with family that she helped cook. It was one of those full circle weeks, with everything falling further into place.
No dates. No boys. No men. I’m all plants, seeds and garden gloves. I’m a dirty girl in the purest sense.
It’s raining this morning, and I dropped my little darling off for school and kissed her goodbye for the week… and fought tears on the way home. This life half lived is eating at me lately and has made me realize why I date. To fill the empty hours I spend missing them. To do anything but face an empty dark house that still bears the signs of my little red-headed hurricane of art supplies. There’s a tube of turquoise glitter on the bathroom counter. Paper on the table and a variety of pens, pencils, yarn, etc… shoes here and there.
I sat down with a heavy sigh and surveyed the hurricane’s path. I miss her and I owe it to her to figure out how to enjoy my time without her too. She can’t be burdened by being my everything. So I threw on some garden gear and went out, slightly happy for the raindrops which mix nicely with the tears of my pity party. Heavy hearted and overwhelmed by another Monday in the chaos of life, single.
In my life, dirt fixes everything. It’s muddy delightful and I can’t resist the urge to take my gloves off. I like to feel the weeds in my hands. I like the soft cake-y dirt of the rows I’ve hand dug for 4 years. It’s a basic function and exactly what I need to remind me that it’s all just fine. Earthworms and bumblebees and newts. Quack grass and tansy and thistle… I have horrible weeds in my garden but it’s just a process and fairly quickly it starts to reveal it’s beautiful self.
It started to rain so hard it was dripping off the end of my nose and I decided to abandon the dirt for the sparkly clean water I put in the hot tub yesterday. 108* of heaven. Something is going crazy on the hot tub heater and it’s overheating. Hooray.
Icy cold Diet Pepsi, steamy hot water in the early morning spring fog with nothing but seeds to plant, laundry to fold and dishes to put away. Tempted to buy more potato seed… purely because I love digging them and I’m an admitted vegetable hoarder.
A text telling me I’m off the schedule until further notice. Essentially missing the entire work week. Thanks, single mom, that’s how much they appreciate you.
Pull my blog and kiss some ass or I’m fired?
I know when I’m being cornered to quit. I’m not stupid.
Once upon a time I could have been backed into a corner by a bunch of bullies. Once upon a time I would have caved and begged them to let me beg more, if I thought for a moment that’s what they wanted…. but they don’t. The customers love me- and I love my job. I’ll find a new one that respects me as a human being as well.
What would you choose? Sunshine? Or rain?
I choose sunshine, and the freedom of speech for that matter.
I don’t kiss even the hottest bald guy’s ass for $3.35 an hour.
Unfortunately my settings on one of these stupid dating sites has it chiming on my phone every time an email comes in, which is a lot. I finally sat down yesterday to change the settings in hopes of putting an end to the infernal distraction.
Success… oh and 22 new emails. I open the first one…
D- Hi.
That’s all. I see so many of these I just have to wonder what the hell these guys are thinking. You’re establishing contact with someone for the first time, hoping to spurn a response.
And all you’ve fucking got is Hi? Hello? Sup? Yo? Hey? I’ve seen them all and I never respond… but then you have to be a freak to ilicit a response from me because I’m only in it for the story at this point.
The playground is shut down for remodeling… and I’m a bored woman as a result. lol… I open the second email and it only gets better.
S-
4/28/2012 11:50:37 AM
Let me guess.. You found my profile more than a bit on the vulgar side.. Perhaps a bit disturbing as
well. you must have had a few glasses of wine to have even clicked on it.. I know your type.. Your a
mile above me.. And your clearly more than a bit too classy for my common ass.. but I might just
surprise you… And it’s not like I would expect you to tell your friends about me
This guy has emailed me three times, and frankly; he’s repulsive. He’s not my type, I would really be being mean if I dated him.
What really stuns me, is that they make this assumption about me based on one picture, and one paragraph. Enough to insult me for not being interested in them.
They say women are crazy? Oh no. The penis-clad species is equally as crazy, if not more so, because they’re entitled to their jealousy. We’re supposed to understand that boys can be boys and “well you know he’s a man… he’s bound to be protective.
Turn those tables and you know what they call that girl? A date crasher. A stalker. A bunny boiler. Fatal attraction.
He’s protective, masculine, he just loves you a lot.
No. He’s a stalker and if I come up missing, check his house.
Yikers. A stalker is a stalker, is a stalker- and this guy is getting his panties in a bunch because he’s emailed me three times and I haven’t responded, but he can see that I viewed his profile.
Imagine him in real life. He’s the guy who stalks you daily, the one who wants to read your emails, look at your phone and account for every minute in your day and who you came in contact with. He “just stops by” and “just stays for the weekend”. Allowing this guy into your life is like petting a raccoon. They can imprint on you and follow you for life. They come in through windows, dog doors, chimneys. If they love you- they will do anything to be next to you.
It reminds me of fungus- no thanks.
The next email is a perfect example of why I’d really love to meet a nice woman every now and again. If anything inspires me to switch teams… it’s this guy.
Like he actually expects a response finally that says “Oh well in that case, let’s chat” <eyeroll>
I don’t think I can even handle these internet retards any more. I may be officially ruined for men entirely.
Disgusted with the species… I signed out of the craziness that is meeting a date online.
I decided to make dinner and invite family over. My mama, her fabulous boyfriend, Sober One Kenobe and Mr. Man Card. My little princess.
Fresh pesto tortellini, asparagus, a green salad & garlic bread. Eclairs for dessert… with a glass of wine, around the kitchen table we’d pulled into the greenhouse and filled with spring flowers. It was a twinkly perfect evening full of the stuff that feels right. Family & friends and great food, laughing around the table in the light of white lights strung around the inside of the greenhouse with the smell of little tomatoes and flowers growing.
Internet dating cheapens what it’s supposed to be. You’re supposed to see a cute guy and smile. He’s supposed to ask for your number and you’re supposed to have dinner or something in this sort of circumstance. The twinkle lights are optional but I’d say they’re worth a few bonus points.
It’s supposed to be as good as dinner with your friends and family- it’s supposed to leave you smiling the next morning, washing a stack of dishes and throwing the tablecloth in the washer.
Internet dating is depressing- and that’s not what I’m looking for.
I can do without the creepy stalking oversharers.
I officially quit my internet presence as potential prey. I climbed out of the mud puddle.
My daughter is having a slumber party for her birthday… with a mustache theme. I’m so confused about how on earth mustaches became popular again, or at any time for that matter… and my daughter wants mustache everything. She’s hand drawing mustaches on the balloons for her party. She’s just as cute as it gets- but this mustache thing is weird… lol.
However- I love a challenge, and am determined to make her a mustache cake. I searched online, found a great bunch of suggestions and baked two 9″ layers of her favorite vanilla bean cake, make a batch of chocolate buttercream and colored it black. I stacked and chilled the two layers and carved them into a yin-yang shape. After a little carving and comparing and flipping one over… I had the perfect mustache. A couple layers of black chocolate buttercream and… success.
She was delighted. It actually is delicious- even with all that black dye… so your teeth are a little grey for a while, it wears off. Sober One Kenobe did hair and they all got a goodie bag full of make up… they were quite the little pageant trio… eating candy and watching movies until the wee hours of the morning. Sigh… girlie slumber parties are the best part of being a little girl. Staying up late giggling and talking about boys. Eating candy until you’re sick.
I caved and bought the helium tank…. and we laughed while we listened to them sing after sucking helium out of balloons. It was one of those magical moments in childhood you never forget- and watching from the other side of it made it all the more special.
She’s growing up. <sob> and when she wanted her makeup done I had to swallow hard when she winked at me. There are moments that the sun hits her in the face and I’m struck by freckles and deep fiery blue green eyes and
I’m. Just. Speechless.
Her brother being gone makes me that much more overprotective- and she’s learned to manage me… If she takes a bike ride, she texts me every ten minutes. I’m learning to give her freedom, and she’s learning how hard it is for me to watch her grow up so fast. She used to be at our local hippie-dippie private school where they gave you a birthday verse to read to them and I tried to look hers up and I couldn’t even read it without crying. I tried. I promise… but I couldn’t make it through the first sentence.
Yeah… nothing says “Happy Birthday!” like your mom sobbing and choking out your birthday verse. I figured it was ok to skip it, for the sake of preserving the “Happy” part of the birthday.
Listening to the girls giggle and sing three part harmony, Chipettes style, was priceless. Relighting candles on her mustache cake that were more like sparklers. Sparkly giggly girl fest… and swimming in chocolate & Skittles. I have a sugar headache this morning and need about 8 hours more sleep. I’m supposed to be in the garden and I just want to eat a salad and sleep.
So I made strawberry shortcake for breakfast…a little hair of the dog… lol
Slumber parties prepare us for hangovers, ladies! I haven’t been drinking since Easter and I feel hungover this morning. Too much sugar, lack of sleep… yep. It makes sense. lol
We’re spending a lazy Sunday covering the garden with landscape cloth to burn off the weeds, watching movies and eating more strawberry shortcake…
With a pizza delivery in our future? Hmm…perhaps?
Just after our pedicure and story in bikinis, on beach towels on the greenhouse floor. Ahhh. 85* and sunny….with our favorite music on the stereo we set up under the planting table.
Mommy Bliss. Quiet time. Giggly time. Just TIME… finally. I’m promising myself from here on out to pick something else up so I can have a full weekend with her at least once a month. It’s necessary.
Plus my nails are dyed black from the frosting… I’m going to have to paint them black to go to work on Tuesday.
Simple happiness in the moments I treasure most. Not concerned about a thing in the world beyond which movie to watch next or whether or not to add a pink stripe in the bunny dress I’m knitting.
She’s falling asleep sitting up, watching me knit… leans over and lays her head on my knee…
Poof… out… silent… with too much eyeliner on. Looking every bit the princess I know she is… and so vastly different from the tiny baby she was. It’s all gone by so quickly…
So I added the pink stripe… if only to remember the moment when she was like my tiny baby again, curled up on my lap, sound asleep, while I knit her another bunny and memorized her freckles for the millionth time.
Nothing beats mommy time & it could only be better if her brother were here too.
Mommy bliss… and baby bliss… or… pre-teen bliss. <gulp>.
I should have been more irresponsible and had more kids. This is all going by too quickly and I don’t want to do it again.
Hold your babies too much. Play too much Patty Cake. Read too many bedtime stories.
It’s really true when they say that someday they won’t want you to.
One day, they really don’t.
Reading Green Eggs & Ham to yourself isn’t nearly as fun, but still… slow down and read it for the trillionth time.
Getting lost in the rainforest with him was next to heaven on earth. I spent the good portion of the last day, crying. I’m a crybaby- it’s how I roll… don’t judge. I’ve seen the worst mankind has to offer in the last year and here was my forever- standing in front of me and loving me out loud.
With words…and actions.
He did little things that counted so much more than big displays…. yet he walked in front of me and doesn’t open doors. I’m so old fashioned at my core…. and those were the flags that resonated the most.
My favorite man ever used to kiss me on the cheek, then move to whichever side of me was closest to the road. He opened doors for me everywhere we went. Cars, restaurants and such. Gentlemen are my downfall… and I’d always thought the man of my dreams would be a door-opener.
But… my mantra is: Expectation is premeditated resentment. Given to me by my very best friend and something that replays any time I start feeling disappointed. Perhaps I need to learn to feel a little comfortable having a few expectations?
He spoiled me- didn’t question a thing I wanted and fed me anything I wanted. He bought me a purple toothbrush… and of all the things I left behind, I’m the saddest about that. I miss my purple toothbrush as much as I miss him. It was one of those tender gestures- along with the bag of seashells he bought for my daughter, which I balked at and he assured me we could throw them in the sand and pick them up and it was nearly the same. There aren’t shells in Puerto Rico… and I’d promised her. He found them… and they’re another thing I left behind. I still wonder if he threw them away or took them home with him.
At any rate…we got back to the hotel from the rainforest (and don’t we all wish we could type that sentence, at least once?) and had 20 minutes to get ready. I flew… got dressed and smiled at him from my teary eyes. Positively heartsick. Begging God to slow the clock and let me have a hundred more years with him…. or just one more day?
But the seconds just kept ticking by… and we left for dinner. He handed me his phone to call the restaurant to tell them we’d be late. I could hardly breathe and just kept thinking about sand and love and anything but leaving him.
Being a princess suits me just fine, thankyouverymuch… as did this enigma I’d fallen in love with so long ago. I didn’t want my fairytale to end, and I could feel it slipping away like sand in an hourglass. He parked the car and we walked down the same stairs of the parking garage that we’d fought on the night before. Shudder…
He never told me I looked beautiful. The valet smiled at me every day and said it. The bartender said it. Frankly? I know it. I played fashion show before I left, I only took the shit that made me look smoking hot. Come on now, I’m not an amateur. It was almost like a game? He pointed out other women. He commented on other women. He didn’t compliment me.
Ouch.
It really stuck in my throat the last night though. I wore my favorite dress. I wore my favorite shoes which make my beautiful tattoo just ridiculously sexy…
Nothing.
We walked out of the garage and the cobblestones are kicking my ass. I’m searching for the tiny sidewalk that lines the street and he’s giggling at me.
J- I love these shoes, laugh all you want.
T- I love the girl wearing them.
Sigh… tears… sigh…. tears… ugh.
We walked in to the restaurant and they sat us. Our waiter was adorable and he explained the local special, something I can’t remember but wish I could. Mofungo? Something like that. It was delicious. Shrimp… red sauce of some sort? Some sort of bowl made of plantain. Yum, yum, yum. I couldn’t decide between that and the shrimp salad I really was craving.
Confession? I turned into a lame teenager around him. I wasn’t ever comfortable eating in front of him… ever. I asked him to help me and he refused. I ordered the special- because when in Rome and all that. The waiter smiled and told me he was sure I’d like it. He ordered himself a drink….
I was so sad in that moment… I can’t really describe it. Just desperate for peace and looking at the paintings that lined the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. Missing my sisters. Missing my mom. Missing my babies. Sick to my stomach and so upset I didn’t know how to pull my shit together for a moment.
This was it. Our last night. The grand goodbye…
They brought our food and it was amazing. Absolutely delicious and worth every penny. He kept telling me to take pictures because I was going to get home and be sad that I didn’t have any of just him alone. Huh.
You’d think he’d get his phone out and do the same if that were the case, right?
Nope.
He’d taken my picture once, the night before… because he said I looked like the saddest little angel, and with my favorite pregnant kitty. Two pictures.
Huh.
Things were nagging in the back of my mind but I was fighting back tears and trying to maintain my composure. We finished eating and left. He had an agenda for our last night together.
Caipirinhas at the Parrot Club…
Pina Coladas at the bar they were created…
Watermelon mojitos at the place famous for them…
While hassling me to ask for the la quenta. Ugh. I could see the potential for trouble before the clouds started to roll in. I just refused to see it. I took a million deep breaths and told him how much I loved him a million times. Not willing to waste a second as they ticked by too quickly.
Devastated. Stupid in love… literally.
Sitting next to him, watching the bartender muddle sugar cane and ice… looking back to see our reflection in the mirror and marveling at the irony of the two of us. My split-apart… this soul mate man of mine… who was slowly turning into someone I would spend every second missing… feeling tears burn a path down my cheeks when I looked at the clock.
His flight left at 6 the next morning, and mine at 9… facing the three hours in the airport I’d be crying in the corner, cursing the knowledge of a love like this. Missing him so desperately I needed to excuse myself to the bathroom. I walked quickly to a little door with a little lady in a dress on it and barely made it in time to be sick. I brushed my teeth, washed my hands and splashed some cold water on my face. Determined not to ruin my last night by grieving its passing. Deep breath. Deep breath… and rejoin him at the bar.
Delicious drinks… interspersed with kisses and promises of the sleepless night ahead.
T- We’ll go back and get everything packed… then I want to do nothing but unwrap you until we have to leave for the airport.
Thank you baby Jesus. Or Mary… or God… or whoever aligned my path with this devil/angel. We’d walked by a homeless guy the day before and he told me in Spanish that I was walking with the devil. We giggled about it then… now it’s not so funny.
He led me down Paseo de la Princesa… to the edge of the island. An old fishing pier where I made sure to not destroy my heels… and he kissed me in the moonlight… and told me he’d love me forever. He pointed at the San Juan Gate that we’d just walked through and told me the words inscribed on it said “Life is waiting for you”… but I know a little bit of Latin and knew he was incorrect. It actually said “Blessed are they who come in the name of the Lord”. For the first time I felt like I was on some staged walk through the last night of the weekend with him. I’d bet my life he’s done the exact same thing with someone else because he told me at the beginning of the night that I’d love him so much by the end of the night after seeing all the amazing things he had to show me- and I’m too damn smart to be on a recycled date and not know it.
I cried. A lot… and looked out over the moon-kissed waves of the ocean so far from home. Praying for more time… and reaching in my pocket for the gift I’d come to set free.
That Dirty Boat Stealing Asshole gave me one thing that mattered to him. His mother’s pearls. Seven years of my life for a necklace I couldn’t wear without being filled with regret. He took so much from me and I still felt compelled to return them. So I did. I pulled them out of my pocket, choking on the sobs ripping through me, kissed them, and gave them back to the ocean. I sent them back from whence they came. It wasn’t vengeful, it was a gift to us both. I turned around and there was my heart, walking back towards the arch. I followed, doing my best to stop the flood.
He wanted to dance with me <smart man> but it was Superbowl Sunday and the place we went was having a football party, no dancing to be had.
T- You blew it last night, I wanted to take you dancing.
Huh.
We stopped at Burger King for burgers, and headed back to our hotel. He kissed me when I told him I was taking the food up to our room. He told me he was going for his double…. and I agreed to come down and meet him. I allowed myself to really cry about it in the elevator alone. The door opened on the fourth floor and the man who walked in was instantly comforting.
M- You ok?
J- Yeah, just really sad. I leave my boyfriend tomorrow to go back home.
M- You look beautiful, where is he?
J- At the bar.
I held the burgers up and he grinned.
I dropped the burgers off, cleaned up my make-up, put some perfume on and fresh lip gloss… and headed back downstairs to face what would end up being the very worst night of my life.
The valet stopped me before I got to the bar.
V- Are you ok? You were so upset last night. Your husband, he is angry?
J- Thank you, I’m fine.
V- Here is my number if you need anything. You are so nice. Please call me if you need help.
J- Thank you.
Oh the nightmare that awaited me… and oh how the number in my pocket would become my lifeline…
