Apparently Not A Breakfast For My Little Champion

Good morning, blogosphere. Well, wait. Let me rephrase. Morning, blogosphere. There. That’s much better. It is morning, but it certainly hasn’t started out good. Though not horrible, so maybe the good can stay. Wow. I’m full scale babble already today, aren’t I? Let me explain why I am here at this early hour (and yes, I realize that it isn’t actually that early, and by the time I get this posted, it will be even later, but for a Sunday morning following a Saturday night bedtime of 2 am, it is ungodly early for me), drinking my chocolate creamer coffee and writing, instead of blissfully snuggled in my bed.

 

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My four year old (whom I still do not have a nickname to use for him here, what the hell is wrong with me that I can’t come up with a nickname that illustrates some of his personality?!) gets up pretty early in the morning (by my standards) about 99% of the time. When he goes to bed at his regular bedtime, I can pretty much count on him being awake by 6:30. When he stays up until his later, summer bedtime, he usually won’t sleep past 7:15. So, like clockwork, he was in my bedroom at 7:05 today. Now a year ago, that would have been pretty brutal having just gone to bed at 2 am. But now that he’s older, I’m working out a system so that even if he won’t sleep in, I can be a night owl and still get close to the amount of sleep I need. Apparently there are some kinks in the system that need to be worked out.

 

Anyway, 7:05 arrives and he is in my room, which immediately tells my dog he needs to get up too because it must be time for breakfast. He’s got an internal meal clock that is infallible too. He knows exactly when his meal times are and will start whining one hour before said meal time, causing me to lose my mind listening to the whining. But, I’ve gone off track again. (I know. Shocker.) Back to 7:05. The little one is awake, the dog is ready to eat, so I stumble my way out to the living room (opening my eyes as little as possible to avoid the light from forcing my brain to wake up), turn on the TV while he turns on the Xbox so he can play his game (probably not winning any mother of the year awards, but when a girl’s gotta sleep, a girl’s gotta sleep). While this is going on, my dog is doing his version of a happy dance around my feet. I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned it before, but my dog is a miniature dachshund, aka little weiner dog, so he’s fragile. Those long backs can get injured easily and his happy dance has me slightly concerned that I’m going to trip and fall on him. Which I’m fairly sure would jack up his back. But we manage to get the TV on and switched to the Xbox input without incident. Then I head to the kitchen with the dog racing ahead of me, where he proudly parks his ass down on the rug by his bowls. I open the cupboard and refrigerator, pulling out Cheerios and orange juice. And no, that is not for the dog, which I’m sure you figured out, but left him wondering what the fuck I was doing. Which is strange because we go through this same routine everyday.

 

I poured some cereal in a bowl and some orange juice in a cup and put it on the table for the little one. Unfortunately, it was not yet time for the dog’s breakfast, so he was left sitting by his bowl while I kissed little one’s head, told him his breakfast was on the table for him, and puttered back to bed. I climb back under the sheet, put the dark sock I keep on my nightstand over my eyes (I really need one of those sleep masks, but this works), and fall back asleep. Jump ahead to 7:40. Little one is calling for me so I yank my sock off my eyes and go to see what he needs. (And to put the dog’s food out since it is finally time for his breakfast. We’re smart and have his bowl made the night before so all we, I mean I, have to do is take it out of the fridge and give it to him. He’s on a strict diet of dog food and pumpkin and it’s a real pain in the ass to try to put that together when you’re trying to sleep while standing.) He is sitting at the table and asks if we had any more “bendy” straws for his juice. I tell him no. He asks if I forgot to buy more and I say yes. Which, technically, is a lie because I said when the last box was getting low that I wasn’t going to buy any more straws. He said he would use the other straw (one of those that came with a big water bottle), but I told him it was in the dishwasher and that he would just have to drink his juice like a big boy. And I head back to bed.

 

7:43. Yes. Three minutes later. I’m not even making that up. Little one is calling for me again. I yell from my bed to try and figure out what he needs this time and if I really need to get up to take care of it. (I’m sure Hubby was just pleased as punch that I was yelling six inches from his head, but I say tough cookies to that.) Little one wasn’t giving me any indication of why he needed me, but was still calling for me, so I again climb out of bed. And now I’m really starting to get grumpy because getting called out of bed two extra times is not part of the system. I knew he wasn't hurt because he didn’t have that tone in his voice. It was just his regular, ‘I need something, so come take care of it’ tone. I get to the dining room and see him frantically mopping up the table with some napkins. (God bless his little soul for trying to clean up the mess!) I asked if he spilled his juice and he said yes. So I grab some more napkins and start soaking up the juice on the table. Then I glance down and see a puddle, yes a puddle, of orange juice under his chair. I think I made some kind of noise resembling an ‘oh no!’ sound, but it’s all a little bit blurry. I run to the kitchen grab a washcloth, wet it, and run back to start soaking up the juice on the floor. (Why I wet it, I’m not really sure because clearly something that is already wet is not going to have as much absorption as something that’s dry, but my brain was still not clicking yet. I think I figured since it was juice it would be sticky so I’d need to wet it down to clean it. I guess I forgot about the whole 'having to get it off the carpet first’ part.) As I’m trying to soak up the juice on the floor, I see that he is sitting in a puddle on his chair. There is juice all over the place. His shirt is wet, his arm is soaked, legs, feet, underwear, everything. There is literally 7 ounces of juice on him, the table, his chair, and the floor. Awesome. I grab another towel (dry this time, because I realize I’m an idiot for trying to use a wet one) and start soaking up the juice on his chair so I can get him off of it without dripping. He stands up on the chair and proceeds to stick his toes in the puddle of juice and swirl it around like it’s a freaking rain puddle! I yell at him to stop doing that, get it all soaked up and him dried off, and haul him into the bathtub. After his bath, I finished cleaning things up in the dining room.

 

While all of this is going on, I’m asking him how it happened that he managed to spill his entire cup of juice. Have you ever tried interrogating a four year old? I bet even the most seasoned detective or FBI agent would crack before getting a real answer out of him. The best thing I got was, “It just didn’t work.” Well, no shit, Sherlock. The juice all over my carpet is evidence of that. I still don’t know exactly how he managed to dump all that juice.

 

But I do know one thing.

 

I’m buying more straws.

Fried.

This week has been killer at work. I’ve been doing all my regular ad scheduling, data gathering, spreadsheet inputting, marketing analysis stuff, but I’ve also been proofreading a book (the second of three) and listening to an interview (of sorts) while transcribing certain points of this interview. I’m classified as a part-time employee, but these past two weeks I may as well have been full-time. To say that my brain is mush, would be putting it mildly. My fingers won’t follow my brain’s commands and my brain feels like it’s fighting to run through molasses. I should have this sign on my desk.

 

 

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P.S. Even trying to find a sign was a struggle for my brain. So I just made one. Not nearly as funny as a real one, but it gets the idea across.

 

So given the fact that I can’t string together enough cohesive thoughts to make a whole post, I’ll just give you a few little tidbits that are jumping around in this skull of mine.

 

1. In the last five days, I think I’ve gotten about 26 hours of sleep. The person/animal that wakes me up tomorrow morning had better be severely injured or else they are going to be face to face with a very grouchy mama. Oh who am I kidding? There’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to sleep in. Between my dog and my four year old, I can kiss any hope of sleeping in goodbye.
2. I’m really fucking hungry but I can’t find a single thing that sounds even remotely good to eat. And I just went grocery shopping last night. I hate when that happens.
3. I bought some new hair clips at the store last night. Kind of like those butterfly clips, but with a slightly different shape and the words “Will not slip” on the cardboard. This is important to me because my hair is pretty fine and is constantly falling out of anything I try to put in it. I twisted my hair up onto the back of my head this morning, put a clip in, and completely forgot it was there! It’s fucking amazing to me that this clip has stayed in place for like 12 hours! Unheard of!
4. My daughter got a hamster for her 11th birthday last year. (I thought it was a bad idea given all the other animals we have in this house. And I did not want to end up being the one that cleaned it’s cage.) Tuesday, she noticed something on her little rat’s hamster’s face and she wanted to clean it off. Pretty soon she came running out of her room because whatever it was, was not coming off. She started freaking out – crying and generally being hysterical - because she didn’t know what was wrong with it. After some close examination on the part of Hubby and Drama Queen, they came to the conclusion it might be a tooth. (Did I mention I didn’t want the thing?) I looked it up online and sure enough, hamster’s teeth have been known to become over grown and puncture their cheek. All that needs to be done is for the tooth to be trimmed back to it’s normal size. Hubby called the vet the next morning and made plans to take her in Thursday morning to have it taken care of. All day Drama Queen was stewing around worried about what was happening. Thursday afternoon the vet called Hubby back and asked that he come in to talk about what needed to be done before they did anything. Not. A. Good. Sign. (Have I said that I thought getting this thing would be a bad idea?) Hubby and Drama Queen left to go see what was up. Drama Queen was only allowed to go if she promised to stay in the truck. Not too long later, the three of them were home. Protruding tooth and all. Hubby said it was going to be over $150 for the “surgery” to trim the tooth (which had become so overgrown that it actually started to curl because her lower tooth had fallen out and it had nothing to grind against to keep it naturally trim) and then we would have to keep bringing her back every so often to get it trimmed. At a price tag of more than $60 a pop. (Oh dear God, did I not say that we shouldn’t have let her get the damn thing?!) Hubby said thanks but no thanks, paid the $60+ dollars for them to do nothing but grace us with their presence, and brought her home. After a couple calls, he found another clinic that would do it for less, though not as little as I would have liked. It was farther away, but they made the trip this morning and the little rodent got her tooth trimmed. Apparently one of the vet assistants (are they called nurses, too?") said this was the worst overgrown hamster tooth she’d ever seen. (Joy. We’re the worst hamster owners ever. Maybe I should have been a little less vehement about not wanting the thing. Now I feel guilty) They even got to bring it home to show the rest of us. I was going to take a picture of it, but now I can’t find the pill bottle it was put in. I’m slightly disturbed that this tooth has suddenly gone missing. I just pray that Hubby threw it away and that Drama Queen didn’t sneak off with it somewhere. Though I suppose we should frame the damn thing since it cost us about $120!

 

Well, I’m going to have to leave it at that because, well because Drama Queen has been sitting here in the living room with me watching the Olympics and she won’t stop talking, and I can’t hear myself think. Add that to my already addled brain and you have a very unstable situation. And toss in some beer (can you see me smiling?) and who knows what could come out of my mouth. Or I guess my fingers in this case. Until next time.

The Meeting – Part One

She watched as he walked closer towards her; hardly able to believe her eyes. It had been years, though it felt like centuries, since they had been in the same room together. She took a breath to calm her nerves, but it just sort of hitched in her chest and did nothing to slow her racing pulse.

 

“Oh God, don’t let him see how nervous I am,” she thought as he flashed his perfect smile and kept his bright blue eyes locked on hers. She returned the smile, trying to act more confident than she felt. Knowing that her uncertainty would give her away, she lowered her eyes and reached up to play with an earring, her hair tumbling down to frame one side of her face.

 

With a soft, shy, half smile on her face, she met his gaze again; just as he closed the distance between them. Pushing her hair back in a haphazard manner, she laughed – a low, throaty kind of laugh.

 

“Hey stranger.”

 

The dim light made her hair almost glow as the light danced off the browns and golds, and the urge to rake his fingers through it wrapped itself around him. The sound of her voice was like a shock to his system. Just two simple words and he was again mesmerized by her. But in a different way this time. The years had changed them both and their recent conversations had changed the way he thought of her, how he felt about her. They had always had something, but now it was more. Like she had slowly seeped through his system and with one look, one sentence, had latched on to his heart.

 

Feeling the seconds tick by, he finally responded, “I’m glad to see you here.”

 

She lifted her shoulder to shrug, hoping to appear relaxed and aloof while praying that her pounding heart couldn’t be heard above the music and the din of the people surrounding them. “I needed a break. Something to bring the stress levels down.”

 

She glanced past him to assure herself that he had come alone or that he wasn’t planning on running off to meet someone else. Not seeing any likely candidates, she slid further into her booth, moving along the rounded seat until she was more behind the table. She motioned with a jerk of her chin toward the now unoccupied seat. “Wanna sit?”

 

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The movement of her shoulder broke the spell that held his eyes on her face. He finally was able to take in the rest of her; noticing her bare shoulder, with just a hint of a tan. His gaze roamed down the length of her arm, taking in the smallness of it, but also the definition that had never been there before. With an appreciating nod, he sat and shifted in the booth so that he could face her. He continued his study of her features as if to memorize them. She was dressed simply, but smart. He wondered if she had come straight from the office or if she had stopped at home to change. He tried to picture what she was like at home; what her home was even like. Was it clutter free and as sophisticated as her appearance? Or did she leave a trail of clothes as she changed. He grinned at the thought and almost hoped for the trail. Her hair was long and silky; her ears had simple dangles hanging from the lobe. His eyes traced the length of her neck. Oh God, her neck. He could practically taste her skin there, could almost feel the chain she was wearing scrape against his tongue. He felt a twitch as his lower regions became aware of her body and oxygen suddenly became a rare commodity.

 

He inwardly cringed when he thought of his own appearance. His jeans were worn and fraying at the bottoms. His t-shirt loudly proclaimed his continual love of ‘90’s music. “Damn good thing I thought to throw on the button-down,” he thought, glancing at the sleeves that were rolled halfway up to his elbow. He almost reached to button the shirt closed, but decided it wouldn’t cover up the fact that he was far less refined than she had become.

 

She fiddled with the straw in her drink – randomly swirling and stabbing the ice, unsure of what to say next and completely unaware of the thorough regard he was giving her. The years loomed between them, as did the broken heart that she worked so hard to mend. The waitress took that moment to notice his arrival, swooping in with her own flirtatious smile to see what she could get him.

 

Taking only a moment to peel his eyes away from the skin he was already dying to touch, he glanced at the waitress and asked for his drink. Quickly turning back, he saw a glimpse of surprise in her eyes before she quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him. Drawing his brows in for an instant, he leaned over and whispered, “Did I order the wrong thing?”

 

Giggling, she glanced up and saw the waitress’ eager expression. Then she whispered back, “No, but I think she wants you to say something more than that.” She looked up again at the waitress, who was still standing in front of their table, now with a less than certain look on her face.

 

“Oh,” he said, straightening up again and turning toward the waitress. “That’s all I need. Unless you want another.” He pointed at the glass already on the table.

 

“No, no. I’m good, thanks.” She smiled politely at the waitress just as she walked away.

 

“So what was that look you gave me all about?”

 

“I think she expected you to check her out. She is a pretty thing. And she was clearly flirting with you.”

 

“Nah! You’re crazy!”

 

“Oh please. You know she was flirting with you! You are too good at this game not to know when a girl is flirting with you. She clearly was waiting for you to check her out. And probably hoping to hook up with you.”

 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that ‘game’ comment.” He paused at her snort. “And exactly why would I check her out?” He laughed, watching her sputter with complete enjoyment, pleased they had moved past the awkward, uncomfortable phase. Finally they were talking like they had just the other night. Like old friends; teasing and laughing with each other.

 

“Because that’s what you do! What you’ve always done! You see a pretty girl and you figure out a way to get with her. If she isn’t already fawning all over you. Which, I might add, is at least a good 50 percent of the time. It’s a God-given talent. You wouldn’t have been blessed with your looks and your charm to not use it to pick up women. It goes against the law of nature or something.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have no reason to look at other women.” He gave her a very pointed look.

 

About to counter with a sharp retort, she snapped her mouth closed, momentarily stunned. Recovering quickly, she replied softly, “But you always did.”

 

He sighed and slid himself a couple inches closer to her. Resting his hands on the table near hers, he softly ran his fingertip along her thumb. “I’m sorry. I was a stupid kid who didn’t know what I had while I had it.”

 

Her breath stuck in her throat at his touch. Closing her eyes briefly, she pulled in a breath of air while pulling her hands down into her lap. “You always did know the right thing to say.”

 

He opened his mouth to reply, but she held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I did a long time ago. We were both stupid kids.” Pasting a bright smile on her face, she sat up straighter. “But we’re grown up now. It’s all ‘go as far and as high as the road will take us,’ right?” She twisted her fingers together in her lap, silently begging the waitress to return and put a halt to this conversation. “I’m a big girl now and I think I’m doing pretty okay. There’s no need for apologies.”

 

Not at all pleased with the direction this was going, he stared at her face, trying to find the right words to say. “I’ve never known just what to say and I’ve never been sure of myself. I…” He stopped as the waitress set his glass in front of him. “Thank you.” He looked up and sure enough, he could see the little glimmer of hope in her eye that matched her broad smile. Nodding at her ‘just let me know if you need anything else’ speech, he took a grateful swallow of his beer.

 

“Can we stop talking about the waitress now? That is the last thing I want to talk about right now.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, silently asking himself, “Christ, will I ever understand women?”

 

She could see the exasperation written all over his face, so she shifted back to her usual, reserved self. “You’re right. There’s no reason for me to rake you over the coals for things that happened more than ten years ago. If I didn’t then, I shouldn’t now. Plus, if I’m being totally honest with myself, there really wasn’t anything definitive tying you to me anyway. Other than the occasional sex of course, but I should have known that didn’t mean ‘relationship.’” She curled her fingers in the air to emphasize the word. “But, Jesus, I’m just rambling now. You wanted to talk about something else. What do you want to talk about?”

 

He scooted even closer, until his thigh was nearly touching hers. He was close enough to feel the warmth of her body; could smell the faint perfume of her shampoo. But he still wanted more. He leaned down and pushed his nose through the curtain of her hair until he barely touched the skin under her ear. He inhaled deeply and spoke low, “Whatever you want to talk about.”

 

Her stomach flipped and her mind went blank at the sensation of his breath on her neck. She closed her eyes and tipped her head slightly to the side, consumed by the desire flooding her body. Trying to piece together a coherent thought, she stuttered, “Um…well, uh…work! Work is a…” He brushed his lips across her skin, causing her nipples to tighten and goose bumps to run down her legs.

 

He reached across his lap and ran his hand along her thigh until his fingertips rested on the inside of her thigh. His body seemed to pulse – every nerve ending was firing on all cylinders. How he could have thought any of the other women were enough was a mystery to him. This night – with this woman – was igniting something that had never before been lit. He pulled his face back so that he could see her face. He drank in the sight of her closed eyes and her lips, glossy and soft, before the fervent need to taste her lips, to own her lips, burned his entire being.

 

She opened her eyes and saw him staring at her. Wondering what he was thinking, she grinned.

 

The corners of her mouth raised, the sexiest smile he had ever seen, and he was lost. The last thread of restraint snapped and he crushed his lips against hers.

 

Her head swam as he kissed her; her core ached and sent heat coursing through her veins. She ran her fingers up into the hair at the nape of his neck. His tongue plunged into her mouth and a moan slipped past her lips.

 

“Dance with me,” he breathed, keeping his mouth on hers. Not wanting to stop kissing her, but wanting to feel her body against his, he wrapped an arm around her waist and started pulling her along so they could both escape the confines of the booth.

 

Fighting against the haze that was clouding her brain, she struggled to understand the meaning of his words. Without breaking the kiss, she managed to answer, “What? Dance?”

 

“Dance with me,” he repeated.

Dare I Show My Face?

I feel really guilty. Like really REALLY guilty. I’ve been away from here for so long, I’m scared to pick it up again. Honestly, I was blown away to see that I still have followers. You all deserve great big hugs for that. I don’t deserve any of you.

 

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So to catch you up – in a nutshell – I’m doing okay. Thank you to those of you who worried about my sudden disappearance. I got a little bit obsessed with Facebook (that happens to me a lot, it’s a horrible personality trait that I have) and of course the kids and the snakes and some small odd jobs and all things domestic kept me very occupied. Then in February, I got a part time job away from home. Talk about a godsend. I was seriously losing my mind just staying at home with the kids all the time. I work in advertising, (not the creative part of it, though I do a little with that) doing scheduling and analysis. I also am my boss’ secretary in a way. And I also get to do a lot of proofreading work, which is really cool. Right now I’m proofing three different books. Not fiction, but you can’t have it all, right? I love the work. I love the people. Well – most of the people, but that’s a story for another day. But even with that, I’m glad to be there. And now it’s even more of a godsend because we’ve put the kids in private school. The extra income is definitely needed now. I just realized though that now that I’m working I have to change my bio. Not totally a stay-at-home mom anymore. Dammit! Okay, I’m kidding. It’s not that big of a deal. I guess.

 

But, here I am, trying my hand at this again. I’m trying to catch up with all the blogs that I follow because good lord, there have been some major changes in the lives of those I love to read. But that guilt thing is raising it’s ugly head again because there’s no way I can catch all the way back up. I apologize. I feel like I’ve let you down. I’m going to try. Things are always crazy here, but I really feel like I need that verbal spewing where I can just say whatever I think. Goodness knows I can’t do that at home and work has lots of rules (no swearing, which I could completely understand if we were always with the public, but we’re in the back offices and rarely see the public), so I’m on full censorship there.

 

(Side note: when I searched for “guilty face” for a picture to use, this is what came up.)

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One last thing before I go. I’m attempting to change the look of it here (I know. I know…it’s not happening very fast. These things take time. Patience people! Said the least patient person on the planet.) and I’m trying to get Kat’s button to show up here. No luck yet. We’ll see what other things I can spice up around here.

 

So thank you again my loyal followers. You are the best of the blogosphere. You sure made this erratic lady feel good.