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A couple of months ago, I wrote:

Today, I overheard a co-worker telling a real estate agent that she is in the process of getting a separation.  She has two boys and one is only 7 months old.  It made me feel sad for her but almost relieved.  Of course I don’t know the particulars, but I was relieved to know that someone else was finding marriage and children tough.  Now that I’ve written that down I feel pretty shallow.   But, I’m just being honest.  I get all wound up sometimes when people seem to be going along all pretty and pink.

In fact, I can hardly stomach couples with two (or more) kids.

Especially if they’re smiling.

Then I wrote a little P.S. ~

(To those of you managing with multiples, I hope I did not offend.  But right now you just happen to be up there with women who maintain a size 4, eat doughnuts, and refuse to exercise.  If you are a size four, and you have three kids, and you eat doughnuts, and you’re still married, you best stay out of my way…)

Apparently, I was offensive.  But, that’s beside the point.

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I actually did it.  Rubbed two pennies together.  It felt a little odd, but also comforting.  With every little metallic jingle, I thought to myself “at least I have two pennies to rub together!”

But, that’s about all we have.

My husband owns a tile installation business that has taken quite a hit since Christmas.  Unfortunately, he hasn’t owned the company long enough to build a bird’s nest, or an egg’s nest, or a nest egg or whatever it’s called.

So, now we are broke.  Seriously broke.  And a little in debt.  Or, honestly, a lot in debt.

But, we do have two pennies.  And, I rubbed them together.

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I’m just coming off of a seven hour cleaning high.  And, ahhhh, I needed that.  I’m only working 1/2 days now and Silas took an extra long nap and somehow I got my momentum going and then Bam! for the first time in, uh, six months, I feel like I have a home again!  Teaching full time and parenting full time is no easy task.  Tack on a giant remodeling project that you did not consent to and it’s, well, hell actually.

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So, I’ve been staying with some friends.  Silas and I.  It has been difficult, but I couldn’t stand living in the demolition zone any longer.  It is not a separation from Paul as much as it is a separation from the house.  I had become so depressed that I lifting myself from the bed was becoming impossible.  Mascara a herculean effort. Paul is taking this time to put our home back together and I hope he does it quickly. 

In the meantime, I have been listening to a collection of 55 word short stories about love and death.  The collection itself is not really very good.  But, the idea was inspiring.  Since, I don’t have too much to give, 55 words seemed managable.   (more…)

New Year’s Resolution:  Instead of resolving to lose more pounds, to submit more essays, to clean more surfaces to an unhealthy shine, I am here resolving to unearth the passion and wonder and trust and love that used to flow so easily and so readily between my husband and me.  I am committing to falling back in love.
Origami Love Note #1 (written with a quill pen on a folded double heart)

My Dearest Paul,

Today I found– in the bottom of a box, in the bottom of a closet– some pictures of us from a time when we were just starting out: carefree and full of wonder.  It was during these times that we were so certain that we were meant for one another– when we walked through forests, through the street of New Orleans, through a crowded dance floor in amazement and awe that we’d actually found true love.

I thought that you were the very Universe.  When I looked in your eyes, I found God.

Will we ever find those times again?  It seems like eons since I have even looked in your eyes, swayed with my head rested on your shoulder. Will we ever be so certain and full of wonder?

I hope with this first note that we begin to discover that wonder all over again!

With much hope and love,

Emily

So, Silas is feeling better! He seems to be getting back into his sleeping groove– going to bed last night at 7:30 (Praise the Lord!) and napping as I write this (Can I get an Amen!) Yesterday afternoon, we were actually able to spend some quality time rolling the ball around in the yard without any sign of a meltdown, and then, brace yourself, Paul and I were not only able to watch a movie together, we were able to cuddle up while we watched it! And if that wasn’t enough, my awesome hubby managed morning duty all by himself and I got to sleep in until 9:30! Oh, how sweet life is!

Now, you know and I know, that I am doing my best at the glass half full thing. So, I would like to squelch any possible mis-readings even before I begin. My tone for the remainder of this post will be bathed in the bright light of sarcasm. I am not, in any way, shape, or form, honestly complaining. I am only paying homage to the fact that I am now living in a household in which I am a gender minority and the majority has already begun gaining power-by-number and using its iron-fisted methods of oppression. I am the clear underdog.

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Be Careful What you Wish for.
Curiosity Killed the Cat.
Build it, they will come.
And so on and so forth forever into the dark, lustful night.

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A friend just sent me an email with this as the subject heading. Even though I am tired and quickly approaching my self-imposed curfew (I’m officially back to work tomorrow!), I felt that the subject was worth honoring.

Tonight, a small group of us assembled outside a beautiful old barn of a community theater with the intention of honing our improvisational acting skills. Instead, we ended up sitting beneath a wise and magnificent Oak, soaking in the mountain breezes and sipping wine. We were alive with conversation and laughter and as the conversation continued both our social masks and our previous anxieties and depressions dropped away. (Several of us admitted to almost missing the rehearsal b/c of some sort of negative emotional funk.)

It was what we all needed: the safety and security and laughter and love that results from time spent with cherished friends.

Nothing profound.

I just wanted to honor that.

I love you guys!

First a disclaimer: This post may not contain my usual brand of spontaneity and comic wit. It may feel forced and disjointed. Or, it may feel like I am speaking through one of those boxes that is intended to alter a person’s voice when they want to remain anonymous during a television interview.

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To my wonderful husband Paul, I’m sorry. I had to…

Like many of my mama friends, I seem to have made a critical error in cognitive reasoning. While pregnant, I somehow believed that our lives would change but that our marriage would remain the same. Now, I’m not at all sure what that even means. It is a ludicrous statement and I should be ridiculed for thinking it.

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