If Loafing You is Wrong, I Don't Want to Be Right

This is the story of when I first tried to tell R I loved him, way back in the fall of 2004. Since then on one of our many subsequent trips back to San Diego, and at the very same spot on the beach, R insisted that he was the first to say "I love you" instead of the other way around. Even though I know that to not be true, since I BLOGGED about it and all, I didn't argue with him.

Ladies, if a man, especially a  man like R, ever insists such a thing just let him go on ahead and believe it. Without further ado...

Right before we met up in San Diego, I felt a strong urge to tell R that I loved him. I held off though, because I knew we’d be seeing each other in a few days and I wanted to tell him in person. (Question: Is 3 months too early to tell someone you love them? I think it might be. I can’t be sure though because usually 90 days marks the point in my relationships where people stop being polite, they start getting real and I dump their ass.)

Back to the story. Picture it: the first night R and I got to California, we’re standing on the moonlit beach hugging each other. I’m thinking, “Oh my God, this is the perfect time to lay those 3 little bombs on him.” So I open my mouth and I say, “I think… I might… falling… you’re so awesome and… I just want to tell you…”

R looks down at me and he’s chuckling and he said something like, “I know what you’re trying to say and I feel the same.” And he grabs my hand and we start walking along the beach. At first I was pissed. I’m trying to look cute and you can’t look cute trudging along in heaps of dry sand. So I’m trudging and I’m fuming that R cut me off like he did. (See? Looking for shit to be mad about when I should be grateful he put me out of my misery.)

The rest of the trip, I was stumbling on the words not unlike I was stumbling in the sand so I resorted to saying, “Olive Juice.” I’d look at him and make a joke about it. Ollllllllive Juuuuuuice… Have you ever seen The Other Sister? Is it okay to laugh when you watch that movie? Cause I laugh my ass off whenever I see it.

Anyway, a couple more months go by and come to find out, the olive line annoys R. Like, nails on a chalkboard annoy. Psshaw. I don’t see why! But I had to think of another way to express myself, and fast. The olives were out… what to do, what to do!

I Google’d, I pondered, I Google’d again and I came upon this little guy here:

 

 I email it to R with the words, “I loaf you.”

Oh, hush. Nobody ever accused me of being the brightest star in the sky. I’ll have you know the loaf was actually okay with R, he’s even sent the little love loaf back to me a few times when we’re arguing or just cause. Aww, cyber loaves of love.

R, to this day, will break out an "I loaf you" every now and again. My heart melts every time he does. 

Mommie Dearest

This was first posted on my original blog, My Crazy Life, in September 2004. I had met R a couple of months prior. Oh, mom, I miss you and the laughs. 

I feel kinda bad using that title because dear ol’ mom can be aggravating but she sure isn’t up to Joan Crawford standards. Although, I made the mistake of telling her about the new beau on the phone tonight.

I don’t know why I did that. I never, ever tell my mom about anyone I date. She only found out about the last one in the midst of the breakup because my brother (the kiss ass) told her. My mom likes whoever gives her the most information since my family keeps a lot of things from her. She worries too much, when you’re upset she can lack a lot of tact ("Get over it already, I have arthritis, that’s a problem.") … not to mention, most of the time she’ll interrupt you to tell you all about some old people that will most likely kick the bucket before you ever have the chance to meet them.

But blab away I did. I think it had to due with a combination of things, part my lovey-dovey attitude towards R post-fight, part she was in a good mood and part that I just felt the need to share.

I can’t even say that I immediately regretted telling her. It was more like simultaneous. “Hey mom, I met (Oh fuck, what the fuck am I saying?) … someone.” Our conversation went something like:

“How old is he?”

“37.”

“I suppose he’s been married a bunch of times and has oodles of kids.”

“No, he’s never been married, and he has no kids.”

“What’s wrong with him then? Where did you meet him?”

“Nothing is wrong with him, we met online.” (Get out the shovel, I just dug the hole so much deeper.)

“Oh dear Lord, Mary. Be careful. Don’t you know those guys online just want to meet you so they can knock you over the head?!”

“Mom, he came out for a week and I did not sustain any injuries to the head.”

“Came out?! Where’s he from?”

“New York.” *sigh*

“New York? Well why does he have to come all the way out there to meet you?”

Thanks Mom.

“Mom, he’s really a nice guy and he doesn’t even care that I’m crazy.’

“Well, you certainly aren’t crazy, you just have really bad periods.”

Uh-huh.

She seemed slightly appeased when told he shared the same name as my father but even that had an undercurrent of, “Well, where does he get off, having the same name as my husband.”

So the cat is out of the bag. Thanks, mouth.

Ready to Exhale

May was busy as hell. I won't get into all the various goings on but I'm glad to close the door on the month and hopefully see things slow down for a bit. Of course the major highlight was seeing the teenager graduate from high school. 

I wasn't sure what to expect or if I was expecting anything in particular, but M's graduation hit me in ways I wasn't expecting it to. I'm still on a high over a week later and I never could have predicted feeling this way. The pride I have for M outweighs any other emotions I may be feeling about it all, including sadness. I'm in no way "done" parenting him but it does feel as if it's a culmination of his childhood and he's now going to be entering a new phase, an adult phase.

It's hard to put into words but trust me when your kiddos get older you'll understand exactly what I mean. I have always been proud of M but this heart swelling out of my chest pride thing was almost overwhelming, I still get choked up thinking about it. 

The day started with my good friend Nicole helping me get "styled" for the festivities. I had bought the dress and shoes but all the accessories I wore, my hair and makeup were all done by her. I felt fantastic and looked great (if I do say so myself, and I do. And I can, since I didn't really have much to do with it anyway. Ahem). 

Here I am, half-done. Don't mind the crumbs on my chest, perhaps I was enjoying a Dunkin' Donut donut hole. OMGah. I think I hit up Dunkin' every day that I was in Phoenix. Not only is it dangerously close to Nicole's house, we don't have one ANYWHERE near me in Portland. That, and the iced coffee is pretty much the bomb. You may be interested to know some days that I went - I didn't even order any donuts. 

On the drive to the arena, I was by myself and I had some time to reflect. Snapshots from M's childhood were playing in my head, I was remembering so vividly cute things he did or said or different accomplishments he's made over the years. I was getting a little teary eyed and I really expected to be this way throughout the ceremony.

The good news is, I wasn't. The energy, the happiness, the excitement... I just wanted to run down the steps to hug M and tell him how very proud of him I was. Try doing that here:

I get why they chose to have the ceremony in the Cardinals Stadium, that way families could have as many people there as they wanted, but the sad part of it was it made you feel so detached from it all. It wasn't my favorite but don't really know of a better solution. 

Aside from hearing M's name called, which did make me cry more than a little, the best part of the night was when M sang a medley of songs with the school choir. For weeks now, whenever I heard We Are Young by Fun., I'd turn it up loud and think of M. Besides that whole getting drunk in a bar part and stuff, I thought it was such a cool youth anthem, especially for a graduation year.

Nevertheless, it came as a great surprise to me when the choir started singing it. I asked M later why he hadn't told me they had planned on performing it; he said he wanted me to be surprised. I'm glad he didn't tell me because the surprise was so worth it. I always say I hate surprises but I don't, really. Not the good ones anyway.

Afterward, friends and family went to the restaurant M works at to enjoy dinner together. It was a fun night for everyone, the energy was so positive and happy. M barely stopped smiling the entire night and it was great to see. 

 

M with his 'rents. 

M with his sock monkey gift from my brother. 

M's co-workers kept coming up to me throughout dinner, telling me what a respectable, nice and well-mannered young man he is. That's always good to hear about your kid. I know I said it a hundred times already, but I really couldn't be more proud. 

Congratulations, son. You are amazing. 

To do, do, do

R hasn't even been deployed 24 hours and I've already come to a great realization: I don't like taking care of things on my own. I know, it sounds obvious. Let me explain.

Finances, making phone calls, fixing stuff, taking care of other miscellaneous stuff... I don't like doing it. R takes care of EVERYTHING. He pays the bills, he gives me money when I ask for it, I ask if I can order something online and he says ok. I'm in a bubble. A spoiled little bubble.

I told him when we're old and grey and if he should happen to die before me, I'll be the wife that doesn't even know our checking account number. I don't mind one bit, y'all. Oh and yes, we do plan on getting married at some point so for the love of god don't bug me about that shit when he's nearly 8000 miles away - gah!!!

A pause while I collect myself ... aka take a sip of wine. Semantics.

I don't have the full list of things R needs taken care of while he's away but the preliminary list includes, but is not limited to:

- Suspend his cell phone service (Done)

- Set up a cell phone for a family member of his (Done)

- Tie up loose ends at his apartment, including seeing if that twerpy landlord will let me get some of R's personal belongings he didn't have time to go back for. (Sorta done. I left him a voicemail today.)

- Pay his bills not on auto-debit (including my salary as his baby mama and all-around great girlfriend).

- Fly to San Diego and pick up his car that he had to leave on base since they didn't give him time to take it to his storage facility and holy christ sit around and wait wait wait then go, go, go!!

- Drive to AZ to take care of family stuff (his) and go to M's graduation (yay!)

- Drive his car back to Oregon (I'm not going to lie, I might enjoy that part. Not driving it all that way but driving it for a couple of days every month while it's here. You know, to keep it running right and all that.)

HELLO!

I admit, I have a "thing" for R's car. Gonna be weird to be in San Diego without R, gonna be even weirder driving his car without him in it for the forseeable furture. I think I can manage... that other stuff, though. Sigh. Did I mention most of it needs to be taken care of in the next WEEK?

Pass me my bubble.