Wordless Wednesday: Picasso video

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My goodness do I love watching her... be.

Embarrassment

Your assignment this week was to write a post about an embarrassing moment. So, here we go:

The yellow line of light from under the door was the only thing to fixate on, and the voices and laughter from the kitchen intensified with each blink of an eye and every thumping beat of my heart.

I tried not saying anything… I tried not moving or breathing… I tried not freaking out. I was a girl, but I was a rough and tough tomboy girl. And I was pushed into the pantry with Randy so that we could be together… so that we could become a couple. 

Randy was 11 and I was 10. 

Our parents thought it would be funny, apparently. Actually it was his parents and my mom... or who used to be my mom. I mean, she still looked like my mom and talked like my mom, but she was definitely not the mom I knew my entire life up till the year prior when she locked my dad out of the house. 

I could hear Randy’s dad say something to taunt his son and then everyone would burst into laughter.

Of course there was clanking of beer bottles involved. And smoke from the cigarettes. Dear god, the smoke that invaded my youth.

It wasn’t the first time Randy and I had met, but it was the first time we were stuck together in a small space. My brother and Randy were best friends. I always wanted to play with my brother so I followed him everywhere thereby following Randy as well. We played soccer together when they allowed me to play with them, but for the most part, I always sat on the sidelines watching them play because what boys wanted a little girl, tomboy or not, playing with them? Especially when that girl happens to be a little sister to one of them. 

But now that my mom and his parents were, apparently, best friends, we were seeing a lot more of each other. And my mom, revisiting her teen years or something, didn’t like having a little girl sitting by her side. So they pushed me in the pantry when Randy was in there looking for something to eat. 

“You can come out after you kiss her,” Randy’s dad shouted at one point. 

More laughter, more clanking of beer bottles.  

Suddenly the light from under the doorway melted away. Randy turned on a light inside the pantry.  

“I’m sorry about this,” he said.  

I didn’t say anything. I just turned back to look at the door and prayed that it would open. 

We didn’t really say much more after that and we certainly didn’t kiss. I’m not sure how long we were in there exactly- could’ve been 10 seconds, could’ve been an hour for all I know. All I do know is that I was mortified. I felt so … nonexistent. Like my feelings just didn’t matter.

Editor's notes: My mom has had quite a few transformations in my life. Today she is a wonderful, doting grandmother and it really makes me happy to see her with my Lovie. Basically, she's a much better grandparent than she was a parent. I love her. She's my mom. If she didn't exist, I wouldn't exist to have my Lovie. But the mother she was is nothing like the mother I am and will continue to be. I'm just glad she grew up enough in time to grandparent Lovie.

As for Randy... I haven't seen him since my brother got remarried over four years ago. He was my brother's best man. They no longer talk because my brother's an asshole. I do know Randy is on his second marriage, has several kids, and recently added a grandbaby to the mix. I liked Randy when we were kids. A lot. He reminded me of Ricky Schroder in Silver Spoons. We never did kiss but we did go see movies and play video games together- alone- a lot. I wonder if he remembers the time they locked us in the pantry together...

where it all began

itty bitty yawns... itty bitty fingers and hands...
pink skin... flat hair... super proud papa

brand new life... brand new world... brand new love...

brand new mama's dreams all coming true

everything finally makes sense ... THIS is what IT is all about

the above were all taken in the hospital the day after Lovie's birth.

below are from the first days home with her.

first ice cream truck treat

from june 2011

work of art

Still nursing a cold with a horrid cough and weekend temps were in the 90s so we never left the house. But we still had fun.

Die-Die

For this week, take what you know out of your comfort zone... And here's the result:

Here comes Mama and she looks so pretty and she’s so happy and she’s gonna give me lots of kisses and hugs, I bet. And the Kitty. There’s the Kitty. Look at the Kitty- so soft and hairy and funny looking and the noises it makes is pretty funny, too. It’s funny when Mama makes the noises like the Kitty, too. Oh Kitty, be nice to the other Kitty. Niiiice. Niiiiiice, Kitty and Kitty. Oh Mama’s lifting me up into the air. Weeee!! I see a cute baby in the mirror. Baby! Baby!! There’s Kitty again. And there’s Mr. Bear, too. And now Mama is kissing me a bunch of times and some more and now I’m laying next to the window and I like kicking the wooden blinds and feeling them on my feet. And toes. Toes. I have toes. Shoes. I like wearing shoes. Shoes. Shoes. And Socks.

Oh Mama!! She’s blowing on my tummy and making loud noises while blowing on my tummy. I have a head and a nose and ears and toes and feet. Shoes go on my feet. I love shoes. Me Me Me shoes and Mama shoes and Dada’s shoes.

Dada. Where’s Dada? Dada? Dada?

“We just gotta get you dressed and then we’re gonna go see Dada,” Mama tells me. She’s so smart. And pretty. Oh Mama. Puppy.

Puppy. Where’s Puppy? Puppy! Puppy. Puppy?!

“We’ll bring your Puppy when we go see Dada, don’t worry,” says Mama. Oh Mama. She looks at me so much and smiles and laughs so much and she talks to me all the time. 

And now Mama is carrying me on her hip. Kitty! Kitty Niiiiice Kitty! 

Dada!! There’s Dada in bed by the tv. Dada’s so fun and makes loud noises when I watch the Fresh Beat Band… La! La, La La, La La!!

“It’s time to go now,” Mama tells me when they’re done singing on TV. “Say bye bye to Daddy.”

Dada. Die Die Dada.

She picks me up and kisses me and carries me to the door and lets me turn off the light.

“Blow kisses to Daddy!” she says. “We love you!”

Dada is in bed waving Die Die. Die Die Dada. 

“Bye Bye,” Dada says, waving. “I love you!!”

Puppy

The Lovebug is feeling much better today, praise. She was gravy yesterday, too, but we stayed home just in case... well, and because I felt like my head was going to explode if I moved too quickly (pretty sure I have a fun, summertime sinus infection).

Yesterday when we were playing (she played, I laid) and reading books, we came across a new word that Lovie added to her growing by the millisecond vocab: Puppy.

One of the books talked about a Puppy and now instead of everything GgeeeGgeee for dogs, it's Puppy. I'm down with this because her old "word" for Doggie sounded so much like Kitty (just a bit harder sounding) that I had to always pay super attention at what she was calling what. So now, I'm all about Puppy. And Kitty. Two different sounding words. Hoorah.

This morning as we left the house and walked to the car, we passed the neighbor who had their dog out.

"Puppy," I said first before she started whining to see it, play with it, pet it, lay on it...  "Bye bye Puppy."

"Die die," Lovie said. (always makes me smile when she says Die Die so sweetly)

I should've counted because it was that insane but I'm still not feeling great feeling like utter shit so I needed to just focus on driving but I swear she must've said Puppy 350 times on our drive to school this morning.

And when I went to unstrap her, it turned into a whine: "Puuuuupppppppyyyyyyyyyyy. Puuuupppppyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyhhh."

As I was leaving her at school, the teacher, in an effort to distract her and unglue her from my chest, said, "C'mon wanna go color?!"

I can't wait to guess "Puppy!!" when she shows me her artwork later.

Wordless Wednesday: What we've been up to the past couple days

On top of her being feverish and downright pathetic the past two days (my poor sweet baby doll!), I now have what I believe to be a sinus infection. Fun summer times are being had over here.

Reason #5646438

I'm not a fan of summer and I've never been one to hide my disdain toward it. All winter long when people moan and groan about how awfully cold and gray it is, I smile thinking At least I can sip some hot chocolate and put on an extra sweater and a pair of socks to get warmer. What about when it's blazing hot out?!?

Man I hate summer. I hate so much about it- the heat, the humidity, the bugs, the skinny bitches, the kids smelling like... kids who've been playing outside all day, etc etc.

Well yesterday was the 4th of July and here in the good ol' U S of A, it's a day to celebrate the red, white and blue. It's a day for good foods cooked out on the grill (cuz it's not hot enough out there with the beating down sun!), corn on the cob, ice cold watermelon (ok this one I'll give you summer fanatics- I do love me some watermelon and ice cream... can't ever forget the ice cream though my kid actually chose grapes over ice cream the other day, the little weirdo), fireworks when the sun goes down.

We had none of that planned.

We live in the city. In an apartment with very little outdoor space to grill let alone picnic with the damn mosquitoes, bees, and other buzzing tiny annoying creatures.

But it was the 4th of July, gosh darnit.

So I came up with a plan and as soon as Lovie went down for a nap with no fussing or fighting, I told the H about it: when she wakes, we're going to drive by the park to see if it's busy and if it's not, we're picking up some McDonald's and having ourselves a little picnic in the park (and if it is busy, we'll just eat out first and then go back to the park to play).

Lovie slept for nearly 3 hours (third day in a row, too!). When she woke, we got dressed and left. The park was empty. HOLLA! We picked up McDonald's and went back to the park and ate. Only Lovie didn't want to eat much. We were sitting with our backs to the sun and I suspect the sun was bothersome. It's ALWAYS bothersome to me but I didn't think a couple minutes would matter much. We moved farther from the playground area to where there was more cover. She still wouldn't eat much more than three fries and one chicken nugget (and my girl LOVES french fries and chicken nuggets).

We stayed for about an hour and when Lovie wasn't near us under shade, she just kind of stood around. No laughing, no squealing, no climbing all around... basically no Lovie behaviors displayed.

Finally she came up to me and laid in my arms and I knew we needed to leave. When we got home, minutes later, I stripped her down to her diaper and she felt SO warm. She had a friggin 103 fever! I felt SO friggin bad for her.

Here I was trying to put my hatred for summer to the side so that she could have a fun (well more so than just staying inside and playing with our boring asses) 4th of July and I ended up making her more sick! (I'm SURE the 85 degree temps and not a cloud in the sky sun made her temp rise.)

About an hour later, she puked.

My poor sweet baby doll.

She laid on one of us for the next couple hours before she finally started drinking some water and eating some crackers. Then it was bedtime and she went down without a word.

I went in to check on her every couple hours.

This morning she seemed OK but I kept her home and came in to work for a couple hours so that I could get some shit done that needs to get done. I'll be leaving soon though to be with her so that the H can go in to work as his work is more important than mine.

My heart aches so bad. I hated driving in without her. I hate not being with her right now.

And I'm blaming it all on Summer.

Because I can.

Old Letter

(The following is a take on fiction. It's been a LONG time since I've tried creating any but you gotta start back up somewhere, eh? My point is that names, numbers, etc are all made up and if they relate to you or someone you know, it's pure coincidence.)

With the kids at my sister’s house, I was sorting crap in our bedroom into a Keep Pile or a big black plastic garbage bag when my eyes spotted the fading blues and yellows on a small, paper crescent moon box that was tucked behind some books. 

Goosebumps invaded my arms.

Marco was nowhere in sight. Why would he be when it was time to pack and clean? Fucker.

I grabbed the box and opened it, preparing myself for its contents: a dried rose that was so fragile, my breathing nearly destroyed it; a folded photo of two happy kids from another life taken at my sister’s house one Christmas morning; a piece of paper folded over and over again so that it might be overlooked.

With my eyes shut, I studied the photo for a moment. His backwards baseball cap… his blue eyes that were so much older than the 22 years he was… the veins that stuck out from his deliciously toned forearms… his soft, plump lips. 

It had been 16 years since we last talked, last saw each other. 16 years, 2 marriages, 2 babies, and about 10 moves.

And through it all, I kept that small moon crescent shaped box with the rose, the photo, and the piece of paper folded so many times over in hopes of being overlooked.

I unfolded the paper and read its fading scribble:

757-584-8758

Corey

Instantly I was brought back to the first time Corey and I finally talked. We worked together for a couple months and would run into one another in the cafeteria at times.  We would smile at each other but that was about it.

I longed for him from the first time I saw those blue eyes, those thick lips, and those forearms. But there was no chance he’d go for a fluffy bitch like me so I just kept to myself.

Then he opened up the conversation one morning while we were alone in the cafeteria. The next night we went for dinner and a movie. He didn’t leave my house for another 10 hours. All we did was talk and watch tv and play cards. He finally asked to kiss me as he was leaving and as much as I wanted to do nothing more than to leech onto those lips, I told him he should’ve just gone for it and not asked.  I was so dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

I was sure he would want nothing more to do with me. The next day after work, I found a rose under my windshield. 

We dated for about two months before I finally gave up my virginity. I finally won’t die a virgin, I remembered thinking on one cold, snowy day in January. 

A couple months later I got a new job. And when I left the old job for the new one, we stopped seeing one another. 

I was mortified and so heartbroken.

“You’re gonna do so much better than me,” he told me as we hugged good bye in the parking lot at my old job on my last day. 

“I do love you,” I said through my uncontrolled tears. 

And I did. He was my first love. And I’ll never forget him. Never.

I crumpled the piece of and put it into the box alongside the rose and photo and shoved all of it deep down into the black plastic garbage bag.