Booty Call

Vulnerable. This is what I'm about to do.

Years ago,I posted this on Craigslist. This was years before the blog. Before the book. Here's me, being raw:

It was just a booty call:

Isn't that what is was all about?  I didn't want you, you couldn't have me..... The ultimate paradox. You won, I lost, or was that I won, and you lost?  To the guy that will always make my legs shake, my hand quake and my heart break..... I knew from the moment I told you:  "You are really cute, I'm really married and I really have two kids,"  was the moment that my life would change forever. Okay, I didn't know I knew it then, but my earth did turn.  Because you looked at me with those blue eyes and said "so, you think I'm cute"... blah, blah, blah,.  Charlie Brown's teacher was speaking everything I said from that point on.   Nothing else was heard.  And really that was the end of that, but no - you sent an e-mail asking if I had been where we met.  I still ask, what made you do that?  I guess it was the e-mail that changed my life.  My first thought was "is that the guy from the Cricket?" :-)

FAST FORWARD:

NINE YEAR LATER

Yes, you read that right.  9 years......  I'm no longer married....  The Cricket guy, well he doesn't live here any more - his parents do.  And yes, he still loves me.  Who knew?  A Random night at the Cricket would change my life.  Of course, I'm writing this on 9/11 - the day I knew I would leave my husband and the day I knew I was going forward.

The day of change for many people and I knew at that very moment, that well, I was on the walk to the future.  I was scared, I was a long a way from home, I had two young sons, a husband, a job and everything that anyone could want.  And I wanted you....

Isn't that the most selfish thing you have ever heard?  You were like a drug.  I remember the night, I was still married, moving out in January, it was October, I was sleeping downstairs (no justification - just an explanation) .  "I fell for a shooting star, the one without a permanent scar" - and for the last NINE years I have denied it.

Well, here I am

And you know it, but you moved away and came back this weekend.  But, after today you are gone. And, that I can't deal with.... I wish I could.  Somewhere along the way we messed up.  See here is the thing, I didn't see you this weekend - I can't handle it.  We haven't had sex in over a year.  And seeing you, well,  it would break my heart.......  And I think it's great that we still keep in touch and we have been through the ups and downs of relationships with others.

Thank you -
For letting me fall for the shooting star
For letting you let go and hang on all at the same time  - even if you didn't know you were doing it
For being scared and admitting you couldn't "handle me" - not many men could say that out loud.
For calling me when you are drunk and letting me do the same.
For not marrying the girl you could have, because you were still in love with girl you weren't supposed to have.....
For helping me find me.

However, here we are.....

You see, you were this cute young guy I met .......

And I remember that night very clearly....I wanted to come back in.....

You have now officially moved away.  So, when you call me in 20 years, and have to show up at my door with your kids; well this is what I have to say:

I don't like babies, but I'd have one with you
I am 40 years old (ok, so in 20 years that would be 60), we should have had that baby then
I still love you
Get on with your life
Don't get on with your life without me
So I understand you call me when you are drunk and scared....

To the guy I will always love and never have an enough - thanks for both letting go and hanging on.   I don't met the profile and it took me a long time to accept this, but my oh my, do I love you.....


And I wish yes, it was just a meeting at the Cricket, but well, we are past that point...... You can't stand up, really?  You have it in you.

If you don't really have it in you, thank you for the ultimate booty call - thanks for what you could do for me.

Listen Up

Huh?

What did you say?

People don't listen.

I like to think we don't hear things, but the truth is, we - as a society - just don't listen.

Think about it. Do we listen to hear what the other person is saying or do we listen to hear when the other person is going to stop talking so we can respond?

In general, people are crappy listeners. Keep thinking. How many times have you said something and the next thing the person says is how it relates to them?

I read an article once about polite conversations. Not sure when this was or what the true intention of the article was (see, I wasn't listening - or paying attention), but I remember these points:

When someone tells a story, makes a point, etc - make TWO points about THEIR story before you tell your story on how the same thing happened to you.

If you've heard the story before, just go with it.

It's funny how people tend to bring the story back to THEIR life instead of listening to what is really happening. Yes, we want to share OUR experience with the story teller - it's hard not to chime in. But it's also a beautiful thing is life to HEAR what people are really saying.

There is a yoga class I take every week. Tuesdays at lunch time. The class is called Yin Yang yoga. Yin is seen as dark, passive. Yang is seen as light, active.

During the class - we move into a stretch position (all sitting or on our back) - THEN, you stay there for 5 minutes.

Yes, you are in some fold, some bend, some uncomfortable position for 5 minutes. It takes me about 30 minutes into class before I can actually "calm down" enough to listen.

You see, during that 5 minutes our instruction reads us "readings" about "centering yourself" or a passage from a Bible or a Buddhist reading. Truly it's "non-denominational" - meaning, it's about the moment we are in. Something to get you centered into something other than yourself.

I think of it as "church" with exercise.

The first 30 minutes of the class, when the instructor is speaking - when we are supposed to be listening - she will say something. Then, I'm off in my mind. Thinking about how that could parlay into my life or whom I should tell about what I just heard, or WHO KNOWS WHAT ELSE MY MIND IS THINKING.

But, I can tell you this - my mind is then NOT listening to the next few sentences. I'm busy thinking about how this effects my life.

Then at some point during the class, that feeling slowly melts away. I'm no longer thinking about what she is saying.

I'm stretching. I'm listening. I'm just being.

THEN, later on, something I heard while I was listening in class - well, it pops up in a situation. Wait, I think - I remember hearing something and how to apply it in this situation. I know how to handle it.

I was listening.

 

He is my son

In case there were any doubts, Duncan is definitely my son.

Not that I really doubted it.  I think people are born being whom they are going to be.  Your parents help you live up to your potential. Or, they don't.

Simple as that. Yes, some parents can "make" their kids "bad". But giving your kid things or opportunities you didn't have doesn't make the kid better. In fact, the kid might not work as hard. Who really knows.

A little bit of both. Nature and nurture.

Duncan is not shy. He has also never met a stranger. He works hard. He's a bit at lazy at times (aren't we all?). When his mind is made up though, don't stand in his way. He will figure out how to get it done.

On Sunday early evening, Duncan and his dad were running an errand. Duncan sees this super sharp black Audi with tinted windows.  He comments to his dad, "That is Matt so and so" (He plays for the Colorado Avalanche - our professional hockey team).

Duncan plays hockey. He hopes to go on and play in the juniors or in college. Maybe even the NHL. Of course, most kids I know at some point want to be the professional athlete.

Duncan is then of course arguing with his father about whom is the car. They are in a neighborhood close to my house.  Duncan's dad comments, "Well, if they are on Pearl Street they are probably going to the Sushi Den for dinner".  Duncan convinces his dad to go by the Sushi Den.

Yes, of course, two Avalanche players step out of the car at valet.  Duncan says to his dad, "Stop the car. I'll be right back."

Duncan goes in. Approaches the two star players on our team and asks if he can get his picture taken with them. Of course he does.

He was very excited. He was taller than one and the same height as the other. He did comment that they were "huge".

The picture is cute.  They are all smiling.

I wonder where he gets that from.

Did you cry?

As an adult, most people associate crying with happiness or sadness.  Not with physical pain. 

We think of children crying when they are hurt. Aren't we all hurt when we cry?

We associate crying with hurt and pain.  But at some point in our lives, we are told to quit crying when we are hurt. 

Most of us think about not crying and physical pain. Emotional pain, it seems to be accepted to cry - that is if you are female and under the age of 10. 

"Stop crying - you aren't a baby"

"Only girls cry"

Part of me gets in.  No one likes whiny kids/people whom "cry" to get their way. We know plenty of them.

But sometimes, it feels good to cry.  Cry in the good way.

Crying at Fred Claus.  Or an episode of Modern Family. Like people get you. You aren't all alone.

However, during the transition from crying when you fall to crying at Olympic commercials, there are those transitional crying years.

When you hurt from sadness.  You cry then too.

Then as a society we are once again told to not cry. It shows weakness.

A friend of mine cut her leg open on a rock - it was pretty big gash (no, this wasn't me).  I saw her a few weeks later.  The cut was healing, but I was like "what the hell did you do?".  She explained what happened.  She was at an exercise class in the park.  They were "rock hopping".  OUCH!!

She's telling me this story, after I asked her about the cut.  OMG.  OUCH! was my reply.  She said, "It's funny, Sawyer (her son whom is 13) asked "Did you cry?"

It stuck out to her.

Several years ago, right after my surfing accident, I was telling my youngest son the story. The first question he asked:  "Did you cry?"

He was 12.

I had never thought about it.  But, it stuck with me. Moms don't cry. If you think about it, when you were a kid and you witnessed an adult crying, you didn't know what to do. 

Grown-ups don't cry.  

But maybe there is something to this. We do learn to outgrow crying at physical pain. We learn to cry when we really hurt.

Heart Aches

A week ago Saturday, my neighbors across the street left for Kona, Hawaii.

I was a bit distraught. Jealous might be a better word.

Their cars were in the driveway, early Saturday morning. There were other cars out front. I knew what was going on.

Knew in the good way.

There were good things happening. There was so sadness, only for my jealously.

They had been to Kona before. They like to scuba dive. They usually go to the Caribbean - they think the water is warmer there.

They have been to St Johns and one other Caribbean islands since the first time we went to Kona. They finally went back to Kona.

I sent them with a list of things they needed to do. Places they needed to see. They had asked as they had met our "house swap family" and heard also the tales we had to share.

Tonight, I stare at their empty house. The house/dog-sitter's have left. They will arrive home in the morning.

Who knows, they might not have fallen in love with the place I love. They might be glad to be home. But I can't wait to hear about Canoe Club, or the hikes I sent them on.

I can't wait. But I can wait. As the heart ache for all of us will be here soon enough.

The bunny

I live IN the city. As in, Denver proper. Not the suburbs. Not the "surrounding area". 

IN Denver.

Yet, I still think downtown is bit far. 6 miles. Parking is pain though. You can ride the light rail (train) or bus. Which is great. I've done this many times.

I tell people I live in "Suburbs in the City".  Still in the city, yet, some "suburban" happenings. 

The happenings I think of are the wild animals in my neighborhood.

In this neighborhood we have squirrels (although they tell me they have those in the city too), foxes, coyotes and rabbits. To name a few.  These don't include the wild birds or stray cats that roam the neighborhood.

There are two golf courses nearby. The foxes normally live there. They then over-populate and are moved out of town.

The next summer, the squirrels and rabbits are rampant. They have no predator except the domestic dogs.

Then the following summer?  The rabbits and squirrels will be gone. 

Foxes and coyotes will be back.

Truth be told, I like the summers and falls of the foxes and coyotes.

They don't eat my flowers. They keep running.

The rabbits? They stick around for a bit.

In fact, I've named the few in our yard.

The first one is Charlotte. Then there is Sam. Now there is a baby named Bob.  (Ask Lily about all the Bob's in our life)

My kid's roll their eyes at me when I talk about Charlotte. As they are sure we have more than these three bunnies living in our yard. I've been told "It's not the same one".

Although, the other day, I was told to not let Dakota (the dog we are dog sitting) out as "Charlotte was in the yard." They tried hard not to smile when they actually called the bunny Charlotte, instead of some "random rabbit in the yard".

We are dog sitting our dog from Hawaii. We have a bunny name Charlotte.

A 12 year old girl

When I think of pre-teen girls, I think:

• Giggles
• Laughter
• Cliques
• Vivid Imaginations
• Fairy Tales (BTW, I had to spell check these words, as I thought it was just one word)
• Obsessive
• Stuck between childhood and adulthood
• Dreamers
• Insecure
• Realists
• Hopeful

Not having a daughter around full-time, I, of course, revert back to my thoughts as a pre-teen girl. Basically, the same as all of the above.

That inner 12 year old still lives inside of all of us.  I don't know if it's true with the guys, but I'm thinking it is. One day, I'll ask my grown sons if they still think people think of them as 12 years old.

There is a HUGE distinction here - not a 13 year old or older. Not 11 or younger. But 12.  

That magical age when you are still a kid. Yet, ALMOST an adult. With no hormones.  Perfection. 12 years old.

Old enough to get to ride your bike around the neighborhood.  Not old enough to be expected to have a job.

Can stay out until it's dark. Yet your only responsibilities are at your house.  With your family. Not yet whiny that you can't go OUTSIDE your neighborhood (your brain).

The perfect age in life.

Which brings me to last week.

I had a busy Tuesday - I had been in Dallas.  I flew in. I went to the grocery store. I picked up the dog. I cooked dinner. (Recurring them here - when I'm busy, I don't pay attention to details)

The boys came home from school (dinner was early that night). I went to Back to School Night. The boys went to hockey - my oldest drove them.

I had an hour to kill before I needed to do the hockey pick up. (It's 8pm now)

Long story, even longer......

I stopped at Elway's on my way home. I have an hour. 

Sit at the bar. Have a drink.

Chatting to the guys next to me. Mid conversation with the guy on my left - I think my mouth fell open.  

Seriously?

Have I really done this again? At least this time I realized it sooner than later.

I had realized he was the head coach of the Colorado Avalanche.  Former Goalie for the Colorado Avalanche.  (our hockey team)  (Patrick Roy)

We chat.  I chat with the guys on the other side of me.

It's time to go.  Do I say anything?  Do I not?

Holy cow, this guy is my sons' hero.  How do I not at least get an autograph. Only, my boys aren't here - so that's quite odd.

This time, I was the grown-up.......  "Excuse me, I realized whom you are. Both my sons play hockey. One son is a goalie, would you mind writing my son a note?"

As I said, long story, long......

He wrote Nolan a note. Then he suggested we take a picture together.

He's really cute right? We look good together, don't we? Look in the picture, it looks like we BELONG together- we match our blue!  He's single too!  AND age appropriate. Maybe I should have given him my phone number? Maybe he will leave a note for me at the bar? Maybe I should go back?  I know he's still thinking of me too?  OMG!!!! He was SOOOO nice!!! Can you imagine if he gave Nolan pointers on how to be a goalie??

OH MY GOD!!!!

I was telling this story to another hockey mom. Her 12 year old daughter was sitting with us - after showing her the picture, she rambled a bit like I rambled above. (the daughter that is)

Glad to know there is still a 12 year old alive inside.

(PS.  I'll keep you posted!!!) ;-)

PSS.  One of my girlfriends wants to know whom I'm having drinks with next month....... (See, we are all 12 some place inside).