Man, I haven’t written for so long. There’s been nothing to keep me from it and I haven’t been sick or too busy, and life is really good right now. So just so I can write something, here are some totally random happenings from ye olde homestead:
1. I’m no longer filling the position of “Short Order Cook” for my children and am forcing them to eat what I eat. Sound extreme? It’s not. Zoë is being kind of a trooper, but Niko insists that anything with flavor is spicy. (“See how my face is turning red?”) He’s now on a hunger strike. I don’t really give a shit and figure he’ll eat eventually, unless I sell him on eBay first. I’ll let you know how that works out for me.
2. Last week Zoë came into my room early in the morning, woke me up and asked me how old I was when I wore a bra for the first time. (It starts.) I told her I was 9, just like her, and she asked if I’d take her shopping for one. So I did, and it was SO CUTE. Now she’s got a few and has arranged them in her drawer by color and style, and I swear she’s aged since the weekend. Oh, my heart.
I also took her on a field trip through the feminine hygiene aisle at Target and we put together her own little “first flo” kit to keep in her backpack, in case it happens at school and she doesn’t want to tell anyone. (I got mine in gym class and had to tell the gym teacher and was completely mortified.) Doesn’t seem so scary now, but I’m still not ready. Hopefully she’ll be a late bloomer and not a fully developed woman-child by 7th grade like her mother was, although she’ll take it in stride like she does everything else. I love that kid.
3. I’m happy to say that my murderer complex is becoming less and less of a “thing,” but I’ve been plagued with dreams about Craig lately and they suck. I’m completely fine during the day – better than fine, happy, how great is it to say that – but the effing dreams won’t stop. They’re so bad that I don’t even want to write them down.
But I will – you’re welcome. Stop reading if you must. Here’s the latest: It’s nighttime and I’m in some fancy apartment somewhere and Craig shows up, back to life but shot in the chest. He doesn’t say anything, just goes into my bathroom and sits in the tub, bleeding. I sit with the phone in my hand and wait forever before calling for help – like on purpose – and he’s gone by the time the paramedics get there. They’re like, “Has anything like this happened before?” and I say, “Well, he did commit suicide last year, but….”
Hello. Shit, it’s getting old. I wouldn’t be dreaming about him if he were still alive. Maybe my brain is just purging all the bullshit.
4. Work has been so slow this month and I’m doing my best to stay calm, but it’s not easy. It’ll pick up – August is always slow – and soon I’ll be swamped and overwhelmed, but in the meantime I’m just living what I’m sure looks like the life of a kept woman. I wonder if people think I’m somebody’s mistress or something, since all it appears I do all day is walk my dog. Sometimes I’m struck by the urge to just go outside and yell, “I work! Really, I do!”
Silly me. It’ll get busy in September. Until then I’m just going to cook…in bulk. Please come join us for a meal, we could use the company. Those kids, I think they’re sick of the sight of me, I really do.
And there it is! All good things – even the bad dreams, they’ve got to be progress of some sort. Two and a half weeks left of summer and then Niko will be in kindergarten (WTF??) and Zoë will be in
college 4th grade. Next I’ll blink and they’ll be checking me into an old folks’ home! Hopefully there will be some eye candy there, even old ladies gotta get some. ;)