Baby Machine

Again?

That was the first thing I thought when one of my university friends sent me an email announcing that she's having a boy, let's call her Crafty.

This is Crafty's 3rd child, and if my calculations are correct she will have three children under the age of six in her house. All I can think is, "STOP!" Look into some birth control, some hobbies . . . I don't know, anything.

Crafty is a year younger than I am and has been married for (I think) nine years now. She married her high school sweetheart even. In fact, I think I was Maid-of-Honor in her wedding.

I don't really remember now because it seems it was such a long time ago and Crafty and I have really lost touch.

We just email occasionally now.

Anyway, she graduated from school with a degree in Human Ecology (Home Ec) with an emphasis in Fashion Design.

This is what I remember about Crafty the most.

See, she made a dress for me once. Such a cute dress that I got a zillion compliments on it the first time I wore it. People who didn't even know me were whispering, "Oh my god, look at that cute dress."

I heard them, even.

I graduated a year before she did and so did her spouse.

Being military, her spouse took off for training and then his first assignment, which meant that Crafty had to stay at university for 6 months without him.

Crafty was lost without him. She was so upset that she wanted to just quit school. Actually said, "It's not like I plan on ever really using my degree so I don't see the point in staying here without him."

Now, even though she was married her parents were still paying for her tuition, and having footed my own bill (partially) through college this really annoyed me.

The thing is, Crafty only went to university because her parents "made her." She went with the whole Fashion Design thing because she loved to sew (even though, she admitted, that in high school she was super competitive and always felt a small victory when she'd get a slightly higher grade than Sweetheart in Calculus). By all means, Crafty could have gone into the "hard sciences" and done really well.

In general, when I think about Crafty I get kind of annoyed.

Why? I have no idea.

As far as I know, she's thrilled being a stay-at-home mom, and I know that's what she's always wanted. She always used to say that she just wanted to be a wife and mom, but deep down I want more for her.

Maybe some part of me wants to validate my choices to work and forego children.

There's also a little part of me that thinks, "Why did she even bother with school?"

What was the point of having your parents shell out, out-of-state tuition when you had no intention of using your degree whatsoever?

To that, I think I have at least one answer.

Crafty's parents pretty much told her it was university or she was on her own.

And, I think, good god . . . why did all those women before us fight so hard for equality and opportunity when there's the likes of you running around?

You with your education and your decision to just pass GO and collect your MRS.

Then I realize, they did it for her.

They did it so that she could have that choice.

So, thanks Crafty for exercising your right to choose motherhood with no apologies to bitches like me who sometimes forget that it was about choice.

Congratulations on Baby 3!

Too Happy To Write?

That was the title of an email my friend B sent me.

I read it, thought for a second and realized, "Kind of . . . "

But, the truth is that I just haven't had a whole hell of a lot to say these days.

Maybe it's February.

It's the shortest month of the year, but it seems so long to get through. What with the crummy weather and the promise of Spring right on the other side.

Plus, you know, fucking Valentine's Day is in February.

In year's past, Valentine's Day has never really been very special for me. J would always bring home flowers or something and we may have gone out to dinner somewhere, but there was never anything really special about the day.

It just felt like another date night only with flowers.

This year, I got a wild hair and some months ago asked S if he'd like to spend Valentine's Weekend in a cabin in the mountains. He sounded excited about it so that's what we did and it was awesome.

You don't need all of the details, but I will say that we went on some lovely hikes, there was a beautiful fire in our fireplace and everything felt right.

S took a walk to the park's general store at some point and when he came back he'd bought a blanket.

He held it up and said to me, "I know that we don't need it, but I thought that every time we used it, it would remind us of this weekend."

Ya'll, am I not supposed to fall in love with this man?

Other than that lovely weekend, February has dragged on like Britney Spears' career.

Also, I think February is a huge drag because my birthday is in March, and having to wait a whole month before I get presents again seems like a really long time.

An Actual Conversation on Instant Messenger

The following is a conversation held with my dad via IM:

Dad says:
Hola hija que tal estas?

Translation: Hello daughter, how are you?

Trixie says:
Good, oooh it's Mardi Gras day. You have the day off.

Trixie says:
Is it raining?

Dad says:
Hay 60% de chance pero no esta lloviendo.

Translation: There's a 60% chance, but it is not raining.

Dad says:
Como seguiste,dice tu Mami si ya estas mejor.

Translation: How have you been, you mom says you are better.

[I've been getting over a head cold.]

Trixie says:
Yeah, I feel good. I am still blowing my nose and coughing but I'm not tired anymore.

Dad says:
Ok that's a good sign.

Dad says:
Estas tomando medicina?

Translation: Are you taking medicine?

[Any time one of us coughs or sniffles my mom's first response is, "Are you taking medicine." So, the running gag at our house is to ask if you are taking medicine with varying degrees of panic in our voice.]

Trixie says:
No, I sleep well at night.

Dad says:
OK, Jason va a recibir su K. Cake hoy, ojala le guste.

Translation: Ok, Jason will recieve his King Cake today. I hope he likes it.

[It's Mardi Gras and King Cake is a sweet sugary confection sold only during carnival season and only regionally. Read more here: http://www.mardigrasunmasked.com/mardigras/king_cake.htm The first year J and I moved to CO, mom and dad sent us a king cake. It was a complete surprise and they did it every year until I moved to AL because they figured I could get it now that I was back in the South. Boy did they rue the day they quit sending one. We got one the following year. Yes, I am "the baby." ]

Melissa says:
Will they deliver it if he isn't home I wonder? I know he'll love it. That was very nice of you guys to do that for him.

Dad says:
You know we like him.

Dad says:
I think he is a good man.

Trixie says:
Well, you're certainly nicer to him now that he's not my husband.

Dad says:
I don't think so.

[I call bullshit and if J is reading this, he's probably just let out a loud, "HA!" and is also calling bullshit.]

Trixie says:
I do. Mom was always nice but you were different.

Dad says:
You know I'm overprotective when it comes to you, I'm thinking always of abusive men.

[Which, I misread as, "I'm thinking always of abusing men."]

Dad says:
I know that was not the case with him.

Trixie says:
Oh god, that's so funny. You know, there are certain red flags when it comes to abusive men.

[Read more here: http://www.acadv.org/abusers.html#characteristics]

Trixie says:
I used to work for the Coalition Against Domestic Violence. I remember the warning signals.

Trixie says:
I know what to look for and if I ever suspected anything like that the guy wouldn't be around for long.

Dad says:
I know.

Trixie says:
And, don't worry about that with S. He treats me with a lot of respect and gives me a lot of room to do what I need to do.

Dad says:
Ok, it is good to hear that.

Trixie says:
He's actually a lot like J in some ways only better because, you know . . . not gay.

Trixie says:
Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Jesus says:
jajajaja

Translation: hahahaha

Trixie says:
Seriously, be nice to S. He's a good man.

Dad says:
Ok I'll try.

Trixie says:
And, most importantly, S treats J with a lot of respect.

Dad says:
Yes I have noticed that.

Trixie says:
Not a lot of straight men are comfortable with gay men, and I honestly think that S doesn't think of J as gay.

Trixie says:
He just thinks of J as . . . a guy.

Trixie says:
And, J treats S with a lot of respect. Trust me, if J didn't like S he would tell me. That is what best friends do.

Dad says:
Ok, we are going to the parades this afternoon, weather permitting.

[This is dad's not-so-subtle way of changing the subject. Yes, he is this abrupt in person as well.]

Trixie says:
Good!!! Mom will like that!

Trixie says:
Are you taking T?

[My mom's sister, my aunt.]

Dad says:
She is going with Shero to the Casino.

[This was funny to me because it's become family folklore. My aunt's boyfriend has been around for years, but my aunt's first language is not English so she has always called him "Shero." When I was filling out wedding invitations I asked my brother, "How do you spell Shero?" And my brother ask me, "Are you serious?" and then proceeds to laugh like a hyena. He finally composes himself and says, "It's Sheryl." Me, "Ohhhhhhhh . . . "]

Dad says:
WE might end up going too, we'll see.-Talk to you later.

Trixie says:
Have fun!!!

Trixie says:
Don't let mom flash for beads.

Dad says:
No, I wont.

History

Clearly, at this age we all have a little history and the baggage that comes with it.

This has been on my mind today because when S moved in he brought a lot of stuff. Not just clothes and such, but a huge bag of pictures.

I'd told him earlier in the week that I wanted to look at them sometime. His response,

"Go to town, baby."

So, last night after he left for work I pulled out a plastic bin (like the kind you're supposed to store shoes neatly in - HA!) and started going through his pictures.

I don't know the chronology on any of them, but I figured organizing them by size was better than them sitting in a plastic grocery bag.

It took me a few hours to go through them all and in the process I found pictures of one S's exes. THE ex.

We all have one, you know, the one that broke your heart into a million billion bits and then walked all over them on his or her way out the door.

And, it made me sad.

Sad because I know he loved her and it kills me that someone would take S's heart and break it into a million billion bits.

I was looking at pictures of the two of them, candids of her, thinking, "I wish S wouldn't have been so beaten down by that relationship. I really wish things would have been better for them."

Then I realized, "Fuck that!"

I wish his heart hadn't been broken just as much as I wish my heart had never been broken, but then who would we be today?

Would we even be together?

All the bad exes, the cheaters, the liars, the schemers . . . they have all led us to where we are today.

Sometimes I look at S and think, "Mayn, am I a lucky girl," and I think sometimes I see that reflected in his eyes (except for him thinking he's a lucky girl and all) and I realize we deserve each other.

For all the bullshit we have been through with our exes we are finally cashing in on our kharma.

Do I expect him to throw out the pictures?

Nah, all of that is part of his past.

I'm his present.

And, hopefully, his future.

Intuition

S works nights.

So, at around 6:30 a.m. he crawls into bed with me and I snuggle with him for about 30 minutes.

There is no better alarm clock ever invented.

This morning though, something felt . . . off.

I was laying on my right side and he curled up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist.

I was groggy, but I stretched my left arm back and put it on his left thigh.

"Relax, " I whispered, "Your body feels really tense."

Normally, when he spoons me his body instantly relaxes. As if the second we make contact everything just goes away.

I dozed for another 30 minutes and when I rolled over to look at him he was on his back . . . eyes wide open.

I immediately asked, "What's wrong?"

And he preceeded to tell me what exactly was wrong.

I won't go into any detail regarding what was wrong because it's personal. Let's just say it has nothing to do with the two of us.

After he told me everything, he turned to me and asked, "How'd you know?"

Me, "Know what?"

Him, "That something was wrong?"

Me, "I don't know. Usually when you lay in bed you're out in two seconds. You never just lie there awake like I do."

Him, "No, you knew something was wrong before that. The second I touched you, you knew."

Me, "Oh, well you just felt different somehow. Usually when you curl up next to me you just sort of, I don't know, melt, sink in to me even."

Him, "Huh?"

Me, "Do you feel better having talked to me?"

Him, "Yeah, thank you."

Me, "No problem. Any time you've got something like this talk to me, okay?"

Pretty soon we were talking about ways to solve his problem and I said something silly and he was laughing. He shook his head, looked at me and said,

"I can't believe I'm even smiling."

Me, "I'm glad."

Him, "Thank you."

Thinking back on it, I don't really know what it was that lead me to believe something was up.

Yeah, we've been seeing each other for 10 months, but we haven't even lived together for a week yet.

Is it possible that I know him that well?

Was it intuition?

Whatever it was I'm just glad I didn't ignore it.