Beautiful AND Brilliant!

Ok, I'm going to make a series of confessions and you as my closest and loveliest friends must take a vow not to mock me. BECAUSE I SAID SO, that’s why, Cyndi. But if you must mock me, make it entertaining, because I am high maintenance and I require a great deal of entertaining.

First off, my favorite pair of pants in the world is a pair of tan cords. Yes, yes, corduroy, just like the little bear in the book that my children love (but I despise). I love them for a couple of reasons. They are comfortable, they are warm, and now that Vie lost 20 pounds, they fit like they were made for me and make me grateful for curves I've never before been grateful for. There, and yes I did say corduroy. So there.

The second thing I'm going to admit is that they are men’s pants. Why on earth do men’s pants seem so much more comfortable, flattering and affordable to me? I'm not much of a conspiracy theory fan, but my gawd, why on earth do the fashion gurus do this to us if it is not a conspiracy to make us look ugly in all of our (overpriced) clothes so well want to throw them all out upon getting them home from the stores with the mirrors (you KNOW the mirrors I'm talking about) and run out to buy some more?

The third pearl I'll drop just for you, because I know you need the laugh. These pants, that I love, that accentuate my neglected womanliness in such a delightful way...hummm....well they were sort of cast offs of my husband's who inherited them from a former 70 year old boss who had invested in a whole brand new GOLF wardrobe for himself. So yeah, I’m wearing hand-me-down, old-man golf pants to the office today and feeling fabulous about it. But hey, they're cute. And if I'm deluding myself and they really look like hand-me-down, old-man golf pants, well, I'm also wearing an extremely low cut blouse to detract attention from them.

The thing is you see, I've lost some weight, yes, but I'm still, well, me. That means that no matter how good I think they might look, one trip down the hallway to use the bathroom reminds me why my feminine curves and corduroy is a bad match. Bad, bad, bad.

Now I tried walking just bending at my knees, but this was-um-impossible. I considered caving and going home at lunch to change, but lets be honest, I just moved and I was lucky to find the clothes I have on. And while the work I do is hardly retail sales, there is not an option of sitting quietly (ahem) at my desk all day.
So I did what any sensible person would do. I embraced the embarrassment. I figured if people were going to chortle about my ill advised clothing choice, the least I could do was make it memorable for them. So I put on the best hard stepping runway model walk I had in me. Let me tell you what I heard. I heard the fall of my steps, I heard the woosh of air past my ears, I heard the angels singing, but I did not hear my thighs rubbing together. And that's when it occurred to me that runway models are the smartest people in the whole world. Who knew you could silence corduroy? I feel like world peace is within our grasp people, really. Call Tyra Banks, I’m sure she’s working on it.

Goober...

It's a long standing tradition in my family to refer to someone being goofy as a GOOBER. I don't know where it started exactly, but I do remember having lengthy conversations with my now adult niece and nephew about what exactly a goober is and why we chose this word of all words. That has never been established.

However last night, I was trying to put Elyas to bed for the fourth or fifth time. This time he had stuffed his clothes full of balls of every shape and size...big soft squooshy balls, little nerf footballs, golf balls...you get the idea. As I patted him down in the dark, trying to decide if he was concealing any others, he giggled furiously.

"Ya' little goober!" I muttered.
"I'm not a goober, Mommy. I'm a BROTHER."

Yeah, he's my kid...

People get very confused talking to me about my belief in a higher power. I tell them I'm agnostic tending toward theism, and maybe deism, but I definitely believe that there's a collective energy that ties us together...which is usually met with a) a blank stare or b) some comment or another about "The Force."

So the following conversation wasn't surprising, but it was sure funny, to me anyway.

Dev - Elyas we get to hunt for Easter Eggs tomorrow!

Mom - Yeah, the Easter Bunny is probably on his way right now!

Dev - I hope he doesn't get caught in a trap or something.

Mom - I think he's got some kind of magic or something that he can protect himself from stuff like that.

Dev - (Thoughtful) Like some kind of shield...yeah. Maybe he just jumps out of a hat?

Mom - (Trying not to laugh) Yeah...maybe...

Dev - Maybe he's not even real. What if he's not real, Mommy?

Mom - I don't know. What do you think of that?

Dev - I think maybe it's just Santa.

Mom - Yeah, probably.

I woosh I woosh with all my might...

Dev has a tricky way of trying to get his way...he'll say something like "I wish we could have ice cream for supper." Of course I say "I'm sorry but that isn't going to happen." Then he can be all offended and say "I said I WISH!" As if I have no right to respond to it...because it's just a little wish he's throwing out into the universe that I have no right interfering with. Of course if I said "Oh GOOD IDEA, rocky road or chocolate chip cookie dough?" he wouldn't complain. But more often than not, he is chastising me for interfering with his interface with the divine ice cream forces of the universe. See, it's a little sneaky. He can ask for ridiculous things, but doesn't have to take responsibility for being ridiculous. But I figure he's six. We'll deal with this more as he grows.

Well since we've announced the separation, clinginess abounds. I haven't had the space to move in my own bed most nights because I have two wriggly little men glued to my sides, each trying to kiss me hug me love me all night long. Its very sweet, but not really conducive to good sleep. Add to this difficulty an allergy induced cough...fuggetaboutit. Two nights ago, at about 1:30 I finally brought the boys to the living room floor for a camp out and some cough medicine for Dev. As we settled in to try to get some sleep Elyas piped up "I WOOOOSH I could watch Thomas..."

"I'm sorry baby, it's time to go to sleep."

"I SAID I WOOOOOSH!" as he swooped his hand through the air like an airplane.
A fine tradition continues.

Go for second

I suppose it's natural for a woman scorned to reflect back on men that made her feel good...really good. I've found myself thinking about 1988 all day today. In 1988 I was in love from afar with a friend's boyfriend. Oh the tragedy. Spencer was a delicious treat...a green beret with icy blue eyes and the heart of a true gentleman. He came to visit...hmm...I don't want to even use her real first name....let's just call her Perky...he came to visit her for the first time in six months after a top secret assignment in Central America. She arranged a small party in his honor, and then as he settled in with a drink in his hand she disappeared into the crowd with the guy she wasn't sleeping with in his absence. I felt so bad for him, Someone suggested Pictionary and he and I were somehow teamed up. We SPANKED them all and we seemed to have an instant connection. Although I found him attractive, I didn't know yet that he would be my one lost love for the rest of my life.

I was wallowing in a current hurt at the time. I think the guy is an insurance agent in a small town in Nebraska now. His nose has gotten funnier looking over the years. Anyway, my friends and I saw it as a good excuse to go out dancing that following night. Perky and my best friend Spooky were roommates. When Perky and Spencer showed up in their room Spooky and I were trying to decide what to wear to the club. I had a sexy clingy khaki colored sweater and I couldn't figure out what pants to wear with it. Jeans didn't seem right, nor did a skirt...Spencer produced a pair of fatiques from his pack and tossed me the pants. They looked soo...good. I kissed him on the cheek and thanked him. Promised to wash them first thing in the morning. I might have had a clue at that point.

But that night at the club...I was feeling sad and lonely. I've always been the sidekick to beautiful girls...you know the role that Carrie Fisher always plays (well...since she was a Princess anyway)? I was sitting at the bar alone while my friends danced when Spencer sidled up beside me and wrapped his arms around my neck.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Not dancing."

"Smoking?"

"Yes. Smoking."

He lit my cigarette for me.

"Ei, why aren't you out there with the hottest guy in the room?"

I snorted.

Secretly I thought it was because I was at the bar with the hottest guy in the room.

"Let me give you some advice. Go out there and pick out the three hottest guys in the room and take number one...and forget about him...he's going to be so self centered he doesn't deserve a fantastic girl like you. Go grab number two and have a blast."

And I took his advice. And that my friends, is how Spencer Snow slipped through the cracks. I only spoke to him one more time after that weekend. He called me when he found out that Perky had been cheating on him with the biggest doofus on campus...he was drunk...he promised to call me back in a few hours. He never did.

I think about him every time I watch the Incredibles with my boys when they are all yelling at Dash to go for second. I wish he'd been better at advice...

But then again, maybe he's just better as a fantasy. Maybe they all are.

Sacred

So life the last few days has been...surreal. We pass by each other, barely speaking...each planning a new life without the other. We speak cordially, but there is no talk. There is no support, but there is no need for permission either. My anger has faded into disappointment. My fear has turned suddenly into hope, not for us, but for me.
I had a long discussion with my small group at church about the word "sacred" and what it means to each of us. I shared with them a beautiful piece of wood I found on the ground while walking, just a few days before Devereaux was born. It had fallen off a tree and there is a round hole right in the center, where there had been a knot...and before that a branch...and before that a bud...it reminds me that at every ending, no matter how tragic it may seem there is a new beginning. It also reminds me that sometimes the most interesting part of anything, is sometimes that which you can't see. When I found that piece of wood, my life was changing drastically, I was a new home owner, soon to be a new mother and wife. And now I'm changing again, into something new. If that isn't sacred, I don't know what is. It's frightening, but exciting and beautiful.