Tuesday, January 29, 2013

While You Were Away

Dear Carl,

You have been away for a week.  Though I appreciate what it says about you that you would go stay in New Jersey to do a roof in 10 degree weather so that we can pay the mortgage...lets not do this again.

Some notable things about this week:

1. Wendy lost her first tooth!  To be more precise, she and I agreed that enough was enough, this thing had been hanging on by a thread for days, just taunting us, lets yank it out with some floss!  WHOO! GO TEAM! After much flinching and false starts and slipping of the floss, out it came.  It made a sound like slurk.  She wrote a nice note to the Tooth Fairy that asked her to please come back later, because she'd really like to show the tooth to her Daddy before it was taken away forever. This note had disappeared from under Wendy's pillow by morning, so we are pretty sure she got the message.

2. You would have enjoyed this pie that I ate.  You would have enjoyed this pie that was a) Pumpkin cheese pie b) half price c) from the Landis bakery, but I ate it.  After we realized that you were going to be a few more days than expected, I quit pretending that I was saving some for you.  I just left the fork on top of the plastic container, and ate it right out of the tin every time it happened to catch my eye. I did think of you, though.

3. Everything is fine.  Your fish are still alive.  I only left the keys hanging out of the front door once.  I've kept the fire going in the stove pretty well. However, we have GOT to stack the firewood on the porch. I can be a tough girl prairie farm wife all I want, but when it is 58 degrees inside and 7 degrees outside, this sucks:

4. Our kids are awesome. And helpful. And fun. And brilliant. And really great company. When they want to be. I guess. 

No really, they are.  That Liam has become really iffy on naps and how that has pretty much blown a hole in my sewing production and set it on fire does not diminish his awesomeness.  He is very huggy this week, perhaps noticing the lack of a man in my life and trying to comfort me.  We are going to have fun evicting them back to their own beds, because the three of us have been puppy piled in our bed since you left.  

 5. Being the only adult in the house creeps me out at night. I am not used to it. All of those sounds?  We do have old floors and four cats and a dog to explain them away.  But.  Well....there are a lot of sounds, and I read a lot, so thus my brain is riddled with delightful ideas about what happens to people home alone directly after they ignore things that go snick or rustle or creak.  I am slightly embarrassed about this, but I really miss having you here to stomp around in the dark all manly like when the dog starts barking, ready to totally kick that innocent deer in the yard's ass for freaking us all out.  Oh. There were some deer in the yard.  They were pretty.

6. This is last, because it is the reason that I am writing. All of these other things are important too (okay, maybe not the pie), but really, I'm just working my way to this.  On Monday, I got word that a guy that I know had died in his sleep, very suddenly, aged 32.  I went to his funeral services on Friday.  This was a guy that was a best friend of my best friend-this funny, smart person that I've known since middle school.  In fact, he and his best friend were prodded into going with me and my best friend to our ninth grade dance.  There is an awkward picture and everything.  Anyway.  On Friday, I went to this difficult funeral, and watched his wife stand in front of everyone amidst what was surely one of the most terrible moments in her life and speak to us about gratitude. 

She told us about how often they said "I love you," and how she knew with every fiber of her being that she was loved.  She was grateful that they had been absolutely living the life that they wanted, together, and that he knew that he was loved too.  Her cup, she said, was so full, because they loved each other.  His death was not okay, but she was genuinely grateful that she had this beautiful thing in her life.  I kept my shit together there (because that is what you do), and through the luncheon (which I found to be bizarre), but pretty much lost it the entire way home (because that is what I do).  

We are not this love-at-first-sight inseparable fairy tale couple, and that is okay.  But...sometimes the anxiety and stress are the ruling forces in our house, and I tell you that I love you, but I don't know if you know how much I love our life together.  Right now, I need to tell you, and I need you to know, because...because shit.  SHIT. You are in another state, and it turns out that 32 year olds are mortal.  

I love that nothing is ever boring with us.  I love that we have so much to do and to look forward to.  I love knowing that you are here, regardless of frustrations and setbacks.  I love that we love the same pie, and that our kids look like both of us, and that we are imperfect, but perfect for each other. I am exactly where I want to be, with you, and with our kids, and I am grateful.

Now come home, damnit.

Monday, January 07, 2013

This is the Way We Get it Done

If I had resolutions they would be...

...all of the good stuff from last year, but bigger! Better! More!

I do have more specific goals, particularly re: taking my adorable little hobby business and making it into something that brings in a viable second income.  All I have to do is what I did last year, but double. No big deal. I can totally do that.  I totally have twice the time and energy that I had last year to pull out of my...hat. (You know, the hat that I keep in my butt.)

For feats of this magnitude, you need a plan, and as part of my plan, I turn to the wisdom of 1950s housewives, who did crazy things like cook a hundred meals at a time, and stick them in the freezer to save thier future selves lots and lots of time slaving over hot stoves.

Did I say crazy? I meant awesome.

My friend Steph and I are doing this together.  Her maternity leave is about to end, so her future self is also on a dog-tired, hollow-eyed trudge toward dinner time, desperately hoping that someone-anyone-cut her a break.  Enter us! Past Self Crazy Awesome Bitchez!

Now all we need are some heels and frilly aprons. And possibly super hero names.