Loving Someone Means That Sometimes You Have to Lego

J turned 5 this last week.  I mentioned in my last post how I can get out of hand with my party planning, but what I didn't mention is how every time I plan a party, everytime, I turn into a lunatic.  (Actually, I think I went into some detail about this last fall, when I wrote about Mr.C's surprise 40th birthday party).  This time however, I thought I was doing okay.  I had decorations bought, lists made, jobs delegated, and up to an hour before the party I still hadn't snapped at any family members or bared fangs.  But then 40 minutes before guests were due to arrive, cupcakes were still unfrosted, the food hadn't been organized, the kitchen hadn't been cleaned, and I hadn't showered yet.  Mr. C was wandering around with a rag wiping down the walls.

In hindsight, yes this was helpful.... but I believe Mr. C was was deep in the trenches of what's known as man thinking. Swiping walls when there was obviously more important, pressing things to do?  Nor was I in my right mind, because the next thing I knew the lid blew off the can of my own brand of crazy and I was hysterically shrieking "WE ARE SCREWED!!!!!  SCREWWWWED!"

Mr. C looked at me standing there panting, bug eyed, with frosting in my hair and he started to laugh.  I immediately felt embarrassed, because even for me, that was a bit dramatic.  I shook my head and mumbled "I know.  I know." Then I threw down my towel and decided that a shower would be a good way to center myself.

In my (5 minute) shower, I reminded myself that this was not an Iron Chef competition.  This was my family and friends coming to my home to celebrate my son's 5 years on this planet.  I reminded myself that I was doing this for J, because he's been counting down his birthday for the past 35 days, because he's the middle kid who often gets gypped, because 5 is officially "big kid" territory and I want to make this birthday memorable, and because when he smiles, it shows in his eyes too.  I wanted to make him smile.

I got out of the shower to find that Mr. C had cleaned up the kitchen and put out the decorations.  (Man thinking aside, I really do have the best husband in the world).  I ended up decorating the cupcakes while guests were arriving, but that was no big deal.  The food got organized and placed out.

Can we just take a moment to recognize the food labels, set in special Jedi font, glued onto black card stock, and decorated with gold and silver star stickers?  That's Wookie Cookies, Muja Fruit, Patawan Popcorn, Darth Dogs, and my personal favorite, Ewoks- which were really gummy bears.  We also ordered "Pizza the Hut".

I'm sick, and I'm aware of it.

Actually, J did not really care about the food labels- no surprise there.  He was there to enjoy the swimming:

present time:

and the goodies. (By the way, those are supposed to look like Lego block heads.  I think I'm going to give up trying to jump on the cake pop wagon.) 

He did think the Lego letter J that his big brother created was pretty cool:

but mostly he was all about cake time and blowing out the candles.

It was during that time, with the lights dimmed and me standing next to him while our family and friends gathered around singing Happy Birthday that it became crystal clear exactly why I got crazy about this particular party.  It's because he's getting big fast, this little boy of mine.  He doesn't even let me give him kisses in public anymore.  In fact, he rarely allows me to kiss or hug him at all.  I know that's normal, that is what little boys do.  But it's hard for me, his mom.  I'm used to  spontaneously giving squeezes and kisses whenever the moment strikes me. And now I'm forced to find other ways to demonstrate my affection.  So I read stories to him and enjoy sitting close.  Or I listen and laugh at his silly jokes.  Or I just sit back and observe him in his play, marveling at his imagination.

 
And I assemble 100 pieces of Lego's out of fondant, and I make stupid Star War food labels, and I freak out  when it's unsure if it's all going to come together.

And for that face, I would do it a thousand times over.

Happy Birthday, J!  Your the Chewbacca to my Hans Solo, the R2D2 to my C3PO, the...... I don't know.    Mom's not so good with the Star Wars metaphors. Sorry.  Just know that I love you.

Good night!

Some Call This Brain Potpourri But I Just Call It a List

Hey there.

It's been over a week since I last posted, which seems to have become my norm.  I wasn't even going to write anything tonight but then I was overcome with self loathing at my lack of follow through, so I'm basically writing this out of old fashioned Catholic guilt.  

(Except I'm not Catholic, but times like these I wish I was because I figure that if I'm going to feel guilty, it'd be handy to have a religion to blame it on rather than to have to search inwardly and reflect.)

Anyway.

I haven't written for all the same excuses that I've been given you all year: when I sit down after the kid's bedtime, the couch and Netflix kill any motivation that I may have had.  Also, Mr. C has been gone again.  I do realize however, that I've written at least 5 different posts this year around the theme of him being gone, which means I've likely exhausted any further sympathy on the topic.  Besides, no one has actually gone ahead and thrown me the dang parade that I'm so sure I deserve, so I may as well just go and shut up about it.  

Moving on:  just because I haven't written doesn't mean that I don't think about writing.  I think about it a lot.  And in the last week or so, I've been thinking about writing about several things, of which I have included in a list below.  I'm hoping that maybe if I actually write them down and put my ideas out there, maybe, possibly, there's an inkling of a chance that I'll feel accountable for them and actually expound my full thoughts on the topic someday.  Here they are:

1.   I watched Waiting For Superman and am full of things to say about it- not all of them bad. Once again though, I am feeling that I need to get back up on my soapbox and defend teachers.  I can't help it.  I'm married to one, my in-laws are teachers, I used to be one, and many of my friends are teachers.  I'm just trying to find a way to write it so I don't sound all preachy and tiresome.  Because, well, you know..... yuck.

2.  Roo is growing freckles across her nose. She said the cutest thing regarding them a couple of weeks ago.  I need to write it so I'll remember it forever,  but first I'm waiting for Mr. C to get a really good close up shot of her speckles before I post. That way you all can see for yourselves how cute they are.  (Yes, I know that statement makes me sound like an overly obsessed doting mother.  In this case, I'll own it.)

3.  I'm planning J's 5th birthday party.  It's just supposed to be a small, no big deal swim party at our house, but I made the mistake of doing internet research on Star Wars parties, and now I'm feeling that energy that I used to channel for designing really cool lesson plans surface again in the form of OCD party planning.  This has happened before to me when I did a few of PG's early parties.  Her 5th party was supposed to be a small get together at the park next door, but it turned into a full blown carnival with game booths, face painting, popcorn, hot dogs, balloons, and a bouncy house.  I felt a little ashamed of myself afterwards.  You have to understand though, today I found a site with menu ideas like Yoda Soda and Wookie Cookies.  You can't expect me to just walk away from that.

4.  I still want to write some kind of book review or book report every month.  Just don't know how to go about it in an interesting way.  Anyone have ideas?

5.  Finally, 2 weeks ago Mr. C and I were in the middle of watching True Blood when we heard this horrific yowling at our door.  For a minute I totally confused reality and fiction and wondered what a werepanther would be doing in the middle of our desert, but then Mr. C opened the door and we found a baby kitten sitting there.  We, being the suckers we are, let it in and even though I keep telling the kids that we're not keeping it, they don't believe me.  That may be because we've gone ahead and bought kitty dry food, kitty wet food, kitty milk, a kitty litter box, and named it- Canon- because it's favorite spot is in Mr. C's camera bags.

(I wanted to name it Chop Suey, but no one around here ever listens to me.)

By the way, El Diablo is pissed that we let a kitten into the house.  He rarely deigns to set foot inside the house nowadays, which bumps kitty waaaaaay up on my list of likable animals.  

So.  There it is.  Quite possibly the lamest post I've ever written about things that I'm hoping to write about someday.  You know, the someday when my husband is home and I'm not planning a birthday party or potty training a kitten or in the middle of a really good book or watching Netflix, or anything else that gets in my way.

It could be possible that you never hear from me again.
 
Have a good night.

Settling

One day back in 2003 I was packing up my cute little condo in Palm Springs to move in with Mr. C and 9 when the phone rang.  It was my ex- boyfriend calling (after a year and a half of being non-communicado) to see if I would be interested in "starting something up" again.  You may be thinking that that sounds somewhat cocky of him- and it was- but I confess to be mostly to blame because I had let this person get way too comfortable with keeping me on a hook for the better part of 7 years.  I, being thrilled to have the final ball in my court, gleefully informed him that I was not only going to be married in a matter of weeks, but that I was also pregnant and expecting a baby in 8 months or so.

Now had this conversation occurred today, I probably would have handled it better.  However, between you and me,  I think we need to acknowledge that this little scenario is the stuff that every jilted girl dreams of.  I mean, the climax of movies, books, and plays throughout time are written around this scenario, right?  A very mature 28 year old woman would have handled things with compassion and love, however I admit that I was no mature 28 year old.  I was happy-no- I was absolutely filled with joy at the opportunity to use my happiness as a weapon against him.  Today I can regret this and feel sad that I was so cruel, but like I said, in my immature mindset I was not about to waste this once in a lifetime Lifetime Movie Moment.  I was mean, and the more despairing he was, the meaner I got until he finally got mean back.  He accused me of 'settling' for  Mr. C.

Well.

Tomorrow Mr. C and I celebrate our 8th wedding anniversary.  Obviously, I did not 'settle' for him by a long shot.  While I know that 8 years is nothing to really toot your horn about when one's talking about the long haul of marriage, I do think it's been a long enough time to teach me this:  sometimes loving someone is easier than liking them.  I've loved Mr. C every minute for most of the last decade, but there have been times when I haven't liked him much- and I know that likewise is true for him in regards to me. (I'd love it if I knew that there were people out there who found that hard to believe.  Anyone out there?  Anyone?)   Anyway, those were always our hardest times.  They are always our hardest times.  When people say that marriage is work I think that's the part their referring to- finding a way to make sure that you still like your partner.  Mr. C and I have had our rough patches, but overall we've managed well.

Here's something else I've learned about marriage:  it's really unpredictable.  I know people who met each other in their teens who are still blissfully happy today, and other high school sweethearts who's marriages blew up in their faces 10 years later.  I know people who married after a short courtship and are still together, while others dated for 12 years, married, and divorced after two.  I don't think there's any rhyme or reason.  In fact, a friend and I discovered this while having a deep conversation about relationships:  when you're married, you have to learn to accept things about your partner you will never be able to change.  On the flip side, you also have to accept that life and circumstance will often change your partner before your eyes.  No one is the same person at 60 that they were at 20.  Being married means that you have to love your partner and yourself through all that plus run a household together, manage finances together, raise children together, care for your parents, care for your pets, care for yourself.  It doesn't stop.  It's very....... unsettling.

So tomorrow while driving through some back roads in Temecula Wine Country with my husband, I know that I'll be thinking about 3 things: first, how lucky I am to get to a whole day to myself road tripping with my best friend.  Second, I'll be thinking about how much I have in the present to be thankful for.  Third, I'll be thinking of how happy I am to be so unsettled with the best guy I ever was accused of settling for.

I'll also probably be thinking about wine a lot.  We'll be in the Wine Country, so that's natural.

Finally, in case any of you were wondering about the ex... I've heard through the grapevine that he's happily unsettled himself these days.  See?  Everything happens for a reason and all is right in the world.

You all have a good night!