Probably the number one question I get asked is, "How's Lily?" And the number one response I give is, "Crazy, as usual." People probably think I'm exaggerating, or embellishing, as storytellers are wont to do. But really? My daughter is crazy. (This is where Steve would chime in, "She got it from her mama, she got it from her mama!") Not only is she a stubborn, hot-tempered little drama queen, but she's crazy obsessed with me. Like fatal attraction obsessed. Like, will scream bloody murder outside and stick her fingers underneath the door while I use the bathroom obsessed.
I'm not trying to give you TMI, but here's a bathroom story for you. I had to use the bathroom, you see. So, I thought I'd be slick and sneak away while she was engrossed in Sesame Street. Not two minutes after I closed the door did I hear her pitter patter down the hall. Uh oh, here comes trouble. Then she was at the door knocking. And when I didn't open up, she started with the tears, etc. This was not the ideal bathroom-using situation, but I blocked out her cries and just tried to handle my biz, as my brother would say.
Then it suddenly got quiet. Now, any parent knows that when your kid is quiet, your kid is up to something. I perked up my ears and I heard the bathroom trash bin rattle around. And here is where I entered the Five Stages of Good Grief.
1) Denial
She is NOT trying to get into the garbage can right now! I cracked open the door and peeked out to see that, oh yes she WAS trying to get into the garbage can. She doesn't know I see her, but once I bust her out, she'll stop real quick. "Lily! Do not touch." She looked over at me, then turned back to the garbage unfazed.
2) Anger
So I tried playing the disciplinarian. "Lily, NO! NO, Lily, that's dirty! Lily! Mommy said NO! LILY, I SAID NO! LILY!!!" I used my most commanding, threatening, no nonsense voice. I gave her the evil eye. I wagged my finger. She paused for a quick second, weighed her options, then kept on keeping on.
3) Bargaining
When it was evident that she knew I was in no position to physically stop her, I turned to pleading. "Lily, no sweetie. Noooooo. Do you want to watch Sesame Street? Go watch Elmo. Be a good girl, Lily. Okay, you can keep that Old Navy tag you dug out. Now go watch TV, honey."
4) Depression
Homegirl didn't hear a word I said. She knew there was nothing I could do at that particular moment. She had me right where she wanted me. I sat there, helpless, thinking, All I want is to handle my biz in peace for once in my life. Is that too much to ask? Why oh why didn't I close the bedroom door?
5) Acceptance
Then Lily pulled an old toothbrush out of the trash. "Lily, no! Dirty! Give that to Mommy!" I reached out my hand and she sprinted away as fast as her little legs could carry her. I sighed. Fine. Whatever. So what if she puts it in her mouth? She eats off the floor, what's the worst that could happen? I let it go and let her be.
Well, after one final "LILY, DON'T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOOOOOOOOOOOOOUTH!!" that echoed through the house...and fell on deaf ears, I'm sure.
Do you have an iPhone? If you do, you've probably heard of the game app Words. Maybe you're addicted to it like my brother, who got Steve addicted, who got our nephew and a handful of our friends addicted. Steve's not into video games or sports, so I guess I really can't complain about the amount of time he's spends playing Words. I did have one warning for him though. When I found out that he could play against other random iPhone users, and that they could even text each other, I said to him, "Don't be trying to chat with any girls." What? It's standard protocol around here. I'm not trying to front - I'm crazy jealous and I'm not going to make any apologies. It is what it is.
Do you see where this is going?
So one day I go on Steve's phone to check out this Words game and see who he's playing. And here's what I see on the front page:
Panda played the word HUGS. Your move.
So I click on the game and see that four words have been played.
Steve started with UNWED. That was his first mistake right there.
Panda added WIFE. Yeah, he gots a wife, chick.
Steve added LOVE. Oh no he didn't.
Panda added HUG. Mutha effa.
Them I noticed that homegirl also sent Steve a text. "Is there a theme going on here?" Oh hell to the nah!
Poor, unsuspecting Steve comes out of the room and I POUNCE.
Me: Who the hell is Panda and why is she all texting you?
Steve: Huh? Who?
Me: PANDA. You're playing her on Words.
Steve: Oh. Some random player.
Me: Why do you guys have this love theme going on?
Steve: Love theme? Whatever. Just calm down...
Me: I'm serious! Even SHE thinks there's a theme. Why is she texting you?
Steve: She texted me? I didn't see a text.
Me: Sure you didn't. I told you not to be talking to any girls.
Steve: How do you know 'Panda' is a girl.
Me: Helloooo, 'Panda'?? That's totally a girl.
Steve: But there's lightning bolts. It could be a guy.
Me: I don't think so.
Steve: Babe, it's just a game. I didn't see any text. And those are just the words that came from the letters we were dealt.
Me: I don't care what letters you got, don't be spelling love words with some chick.
Steve: *exasperated sigh*
Now don't be all feeling sorry for Steve. He knew what he was getting himself into from day one with me. But you can go ahead and feel sorry for Panda, because Steve forfeited the game right after his exasperated sigh, and she/he was probably all, "Damn, was it something I said?"
So, I never told you this, but X had his first girlfriend a few months ago. I wanted to let some time pass before I talked about it, and I don't want to be all up in his business, but it was kind of crazy how I reacted to it all.
First of all, it's annoying having a teenager. I mean, it's bad enough when they start giving you attitude and treat you like you're the most exasperating person in the history of the world. But then I have to start chauffeuring him around? Like I don't have better things to do with my time? And I have to drag my crazy toddler along with me who loathes being in the car?
So all of a sudden X gets an active social life, trying to hang out with his friends every chance he gets. I'm driving all over town taking him to the movies, to the mall, to Sweet Sixteen parties and all that. And he starts talking about people I never heard of before. And he starts telling me about girls. No big deal.
But then I pick him up one night and he tells me about a girl he met at the party. Then he goes on to chat it up with her every day. Next thing I know, he's trying to go on his first date. As in, first date ever in his life. They hang out at a football game, Steve picks him up afterward, and on the way home they pick up ice cream.
So there I am doing my little happy dance for a surprise ice cream cone when he starts telling me about his date. How he put his arm around her. How they held hands. And I'm sitting there, robotically eating my ice cream, but I feel like I'm going to be sick. Then a few days later he asks her to be his girlfriend. And, no joke, I cry.
Yes, I realize that's totally ridiculous. And yes, I feel like a lame ass. But, DUDE. In the span of like two weeks, my son had his first date, first girlfriend, and first kiss? My head was spinning. I mean, his first date/girlfriend/kiss in his sophomore year? That's not bad at all. But, couldn't he take it down a notch? Let me catch my breath real quick?
Talking to Steve about it later that night I realized it was just the pain of letting go. The realization that my little boy is not really a little boy anymore. That these are his first steps of breaking out from under my wing. That I needed to cut the damn umbilical cord already. So, yeah, I loosened my grip a bit.
Then about a week later they broke up. And I cried again. What? It was my baby's first heartbreak. I know, don't look at me like that. As Steve would say, I'm a Smother Mother.
Steve and I enjoy expressing our disapproval and exasperation over how lame some TV commercials are these days. It's like a favorite pastime for old married folk who fall asleep on the couch by 9:30 on a Friday night. We can't stand those dumbass White Gold commercials. They seriously make me cringe; I usually avert my eyes when those commercials play. And stop already with those Swifter commercials with the stalker mops and brooms. The first one was tolerable I guess, but now it's just embarrassing. And I love Old Navy, but those commercials with the mannequins are so lame. Really? Talking mannequins?
So the other day Steve was waiting in line at Old Navy, behind a lady with a stroller. A man approaches Steve and the lady, and says, "Are you in line?"
They reply yes. Then the man says, totally deadpan, "But they're not real," and points in front of them.
Steve and the lady turn to look, only to see that they've been standing behind a small cluster of Old Navy mannequins the whole time. I like to imagine the mannequins thinking, Who's lame now, suckaaaa?
So the other day I was busy being at the beck and call of certain bossy little girl, when I randomly got a text from Steve: "Hey...I love you so much."
That made my day, yo. I love getting texts like that, knowing that he's thinking about me. And I'm not an affectionate type of girl, but when he got home later that day, I was feeling a little lovey dovey. Which, for me, means that I didn't push him away when he tried to hug me.
Me: Hey, what made you send me that text earlier?
Him: I was thinking of you.
Me: What made you think of me?
Him: I was listening to a song about a guy who cheats on his girlfriend.
Me: WHAT?!?!
And then I lunged at him. True story. And while I was tackling him, he tried to explain.
Him: Wait, no! That's not what I meant! I was listening to that song and thinking how I would NEVER cheat on you!
Me: Yeah right.
Him: It's true!
Me: Don't you know it's never a good idea to lead with, "I thought of you while listening to a song about a guy who cheats on his girlfriend"? Cuz you know I'm not gonna hear anything you say after that, fool.
I asked some friends recently, "How comfortable is 'too comfortable' in a relationship?"
So, whenever I'm feeling especially whiny, I've been known to complain that Steve doesn't compliment me enough. But really? I'm not giving him much to work with these days. Half the time I'm walking around with crusty baby food in my hair and on my clothes, and I usually don't even bother wiping it off anymore because five minutes later grubby little hands will be all up on me again. Lily's grubby little hands, that is. Not Steve's. Well, sometimes Steve's too. And that's why I feel like it doesn't matter that my daily uniform at home is PJ's and permanent bed head. That I don't shave my legs unless they're going to make a public appearance. That I probably share way too much info about my bodily fluids and functions with my husband. I've always heard it's good for a wife to maintain a little bit of mystery, make my man believe that I was born with two separate, perfectly shaped eyebrows and that my skin naturally smells like cucumber melon. But the jig is up. Steve has seen it all...and it hasn't scared him away.
I like that I'm comfortable enough around Steve to be myself, warts and all. But I do think there is a such thing as "too comfortable," and I think I crossed that line six years and 25 lbs. ago. I could step up my game a little bit. Close the door when I use the bathroom. Run a brush through my hair. Something. Help him remember that I'm a bad mamma jamma, not just a pajama drama mama.
I love checking out other people's work spaces - desks, offices, studios. It's like getting a little peek into their world. Do their desks look like a hurricane blew through, or are they anal retentive like me where there's a place for everything and every thing's in its place? It's interesting to see what little personal mementos they keep nearby. Who is featured in their photo frames? What's their taste in art? What things might they have around that motivate or inspire them? Do they like to keep a vase of fresh flowers on their desk, or motivational quotes hanging on the walls, or a board filled with magazine cut outs.
I think everyone should have stuff in their workspace that inspires and motivates them.
Last weekend I redid my space.
I moved to a little nook off the kitchen since it was they only place left in the house for me. But I like it because I'm next to the huge sliding door that leads to our backyard, so lots of natural light.
My wall o' coffee. I'm obsessed with coffee, if you couldn't already tell from the name of this website. I love collecting coffee art and hanging it around my desk to inspire me in my writing. Like my own private coffee shop.
So, everything in my space is there for a reason.
The basket is the exact shade of my favorite color
I'm not particularly fond of flowers, except when arranged into a little nosegay. I like 'em, but not enough to bother with fresh flowers, hence the fake topiary. Still pretty.
I carry my calendar and notebook with me at all times. I am obsessed with calendars and notebooks. For real.
I like to keep my favorite books on hand for inspiration. The Bible because my faith (however fickle) is important to me. Books about the craft of writing and a few of my favorite novels. Then I have a collection of books about women in fashion since I study fashion like art. But also, I admire these women because of how strong they are and how hard they work at doin' their thang.
And there on the shelf below are more notebooks and calendars. It's a sickness, I tell you.
Here I have two of my favorite rummage sale pieces. I love buying things at rummage sales because you can find pieces at great prices that are rare and have character. The topiary, desk chair, and blue armchair in the pictures above are also all from rummage sales.
On the shelves on the left side of my desk is where I keep all my stationary...yet another obsession of mine. As much as I love email, nothing beats a handwritten note. I also prefer paper calendars over electronic and good old fashioned books over the Kindle. Sometimes it's good not to be plugged in all the damn time.
I'd love to see your work space. Maybe even feature it here. Leave a link in the comments, or email me at si@youmeandfivebucks.com.
"This
is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of
conversation. You and me and five bucks." - Reality Bites
