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Marissa ~ August 2008 Happy 14th Birthday, Man-cub!
If possible, this blog post would be tear stained. It's hard to believe that 14 years ago I gave birth to a beautiful, brown eyed baby boy. He weighed in at 9 lbs 2 oz. At 7:10 p.m. central time on August 5, 1994, I brought another life into this world. His birth wasn't difficult. Enduring several hours hooked up to gadgets and Pitocin was far from fun. As I lay there on a gurney, I weathered what any other mother-to-be goes through. Except, I didn't have the comfort of a labor/delivery/recovery room. Too many moms and not enough beds. Go figure! I finally moved into one of those pretty, cozy rooms when I was about to deliver. Go me! Thank God for Demerol!!
Shortly after the delivery of my incredibly sweet boy, I declared I could do it all gain. I would if God saw fit for me to have more children. He ended up being my one and only. With all sincerity I don't know that I could possibly love another human quite the way I do him. He's miraculous.
When I gave birth that night, I didn't think I'd be raising my child alone. The idea that my marriage would crumble seemed inevitable. Yet, the idea that Man-cub's father would be so hands off was unfathomable. Man-cub makes being a parent easy. His good behavior and easy going personality makes it seem that I wrote the book on single parenting. We are a dynamic duo. It's undeniable.  Today he went to work with me. Thunderstorms loomed in the area made him quite nervous. His fear of storms is quite rational. He's seen the effects tornadoes and high winds have on the towns they rip through. When the once bright sky turned pitch black, I told him to gather up his Nintendo DS and games. He quickly and graciously complied. He may stand two inches taller than me, but the man sized boy is still a child when it comes to bad weather. Who can blame him?
He and I had lunch together in the food court of the mall where I work. His choice: Pizza. Blech, but I went along with it. I'm still suffering, but I digress. The day seemed long as he sat in the store breakroom with nothing but his Nintendo to occupy him. We strode past the movie theater in the mall to find that Wall-E was still showing. A matinee welcomed the Man-cub's inaugural 'go it alone' movie viewing. He had no qualms about going without me. I had to get to work and I didn't want him to be bored for the duration of the afternoon. A ticket was purchased, but there was a 45 minute wait for the beginning of the show. He spent 30 minutes back at the store and then anxiously came to me at 2:00 p.m., "Mom, is it time for me to go?" Armed with my cell phone he made tracks into the world sans mom. It was almost like sending him off to Kindergarten all over. I held back the tears. He walked in that store this morning my baby boy. But this afternoon he lumbered out on his own a young man. Proudly.
So, if you happen to be in my neighborhood feel free to stop by for fudge brownie chocolate cheesecake. Like his choice for birthday cakes, he's not traditional. I wouldn't have it any other way!
"I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living my baby you'll be." -- Robert Munsch
July 2008
NOW THIS IS A TANTALIZING TRAY OF TARTS!
Marissa, is a master wordweaver. You will find her tantalizing you with quips and a wit that will leave you breathless. Breathless from laughing one minute to crying the next. Her tantalizing tray of tarts will leave you salivating for more, more and more. Please join her week after week at ArtSeesdiner. More of Marissa can be found here.
Ponder this picture and then READ ON...
I saw this photo and had to chortle. The setting is clearly not of affluence; yet, the subject is clearly displaying her desire to exude, shall we say, a come hither-you know you want me pose. those stilettos aren't made for walkin', my friends. No, those are what I like to refer to as CFM shoes.
I can imagine what's on the other side of this photo. Or rather who is on the receiving end of this woman's conspicuous attempt to seduce. There sits her significant other, Barney. He's home from the salt mines and has cracked open a fresh bottle of suds. He's stripped down to his dirty white t-shirt, slightly stained boxers, tube socks bearing a filthy ring around the ankle where his boots hit. All he can focus on is the sports page and scratching that itch that he can't quite reach. UGH! Barney, they make ointments for that, bud.
She arches her back, gives her hair a toss with hopes that he'll take notice. But alas, all he can mutter to her is, "Make me a turkey pot-pie, I'm starving! What's with that crazy get up? How much did it cost me and is your crazy sister coming over or something? -- And while you're up, I could use another beer."
I can recall a time when I accused my former husband of never noticing me. In fact on this one particular day I made the declaration that it would take me walking outside completely nude for him to stand up and ask, "what's different about you?"
When we first moved to Georgia I managed to drop several pounds without really killing myself. I exercised, danced around with my little boy, I ate a lot less (drank a lot more wine). It was 1998 and I decided on New Year's Eve that I was going to make myself happy. I focused on the bright spots and I didn't feed myself emotionally. The weight came off and I must admit I was looking rather delectable. At least in comparison. I started wearing more form fitting clothing. I tossed the saggy, baggy, frumpy attire. Lower rise jeans were just coming on the market. I think they were called boyfriend jeans. I could wear shirts that just slightly showed skin if I raised my arms. I was happy with what I saw. I can recall other people telling me how great I was looking. The one person I wanted to take notice was my husband.
Once while dressing for work, I slipped into a dress I wouldn't typically wear to work, but I wanted to see what he'd say. I work/ed in an optical lab. I always wore khakis or black slacks. The dress was a slim fitting black, tank style. A slit was up the side just above my knee. Over it, I wore a sheer, black and white print blouse. It didn't really do more than give the illusion that I was covered up. In addition to that, I wore black stockings and heels. My hair was perfectly curly and tousled.
As I strode to the car, I yelled to him that I was leaving for work and that I'd see him later. Not a word about my appearance. I dilly-dallied, leaning in the car. Walking around it to check something in the backseat. Nothing. I waved goodbye and he simply said he'd see me later. I got to work and that's where I received the reaction I had desired. My newly chiseled curves were in full view. It is ironic that despite the resounding praise and accolades given from my co-workers, I felt empty. The man whose adoration I sought out had let me drive away without a single utterance of how much I'd transformed.
That marriage is now over. A woman can only stand being ignored for so long. Of course, he claims he did no such thing. I'm quite sure that people are oblivious to their own actions when they are in a situation that is just comfortable. We fall prey to routine.
Then, one person decides routine just isn't satisfying; however, the other party is fine with it. All hell breaks loose and you're left shopping with money you don't have to spend, but those jeans fit your ass so perfectly. How could that fine rump not make him think routine-shmoutine? Let's turn this town upside down with newness!! He doesn't react in such a manner. So, you drag out the inflatable mattress and tell him his routine lovin' self can sleep on that while you take your new hotness out with girlfriends. Yeah, that taught him! OK, not really. We ended up divorcing in '99 ... and here I am.
Feel free to contact her!
retro refreshment
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