hubba bubba

bella learned to blow bubbles today. and in an 8 year olds eyes, this is like moving a mountain. a moment of silence, in respect.

when you're gone for awhile, whether it be physically or relatively, you suddenly find yourself with so much to say, yet no idea how to say it, no?

what i will say, is these days, your comments mean the world to me. time seems to fly by at breakneck speed and i'm always running to catch up. i don't seem to have enough time in the day or the privacy to enjoy the time i do. here's what i think.... realistically, domestic goddesses of the internet out there really don't exist. what with running a business and homeschooling 13 kids while nursing twins and growing organic vegetables and cattle wrangling and public speaking events and then finding the time to still look perky and post daily photos and write up-to-the-minute posts. its all a conspiracy to make moms like me, lets say, spontaneously combust.

in the words of ozzy, "i love you all. but you're all (insert expletive of your choice here) mad."

what i'd love, would be to go away for a romantic evening in a tent. on a mountain. by a stream. and sleep for 72 hours. but the forecast calls for rain and knowing my luck, the tent would have a pin-hole tear and i'd be drowned in my sleep or some rare black bear would smell my beef jerky and maul me while i'm trying to pee gracefully on a tree.

this week:

myrtle the turtle died. while we were watching "the bucket list", which, coincidentally, i bought for my dad as a fathers day present, that i have yet to send.

sigh.

and so jason stood awkwardly in the kitchen while i cried huge alligator tears over the meaning of life and her tiny dead shell and then the Irony Of It All.

i realized while swimming saturday afternoon, that i've been with jason for a decade. ten years. through his 20's. to me, this is monumental. jason, in turn, discovered i can't swim. that although mom tells me she put me in lessons as a child, its true what they say: if ya don't use it, ya lose it. and all this time, he just thought i liked to dog paddle.

my baby turned 8 years old. i cannot begin to tell you the emotion behind that.

our "joint session" in therapy never happened, and again, i find myself completely frustrated with this (stupid) agency. and the frustration is both merited and legitimate. i feel like the only good thing she's done for me besides help me cry, is loan me "for women only" by shaunti feldhahn. all that "what you need to know about the inner lives of men" type stuff.... and usually i don't go for that kind of thing, but its actually been a really insightful, fantastic little read. and its put some things in perspective in my marriage.

for example, i'd had a spectacularly craptastic day last wednesday. jason and i had talked about the *school thing* and the topic had been left at a "lets just wait and see"kind of place. which i hate, incidentally. wednesday, in my mind, had been a "lets DO this" goal. i was going to submit my application, get my school grant stuff taken care of, etc...and now, well now, i had nothin. so after a hideous day at work, i found myself driving to a hair salon that i'd heard was cheap and before you know it, i heard myself uttering the fatal words, "do me."

now, if you know me in real life, you know what a hilarious concept that is for me. i've actually had the conversation with God that i don't think "breast cancer is for me" cuz i have a deep affection for both my busomage and my hair. and its not even that my hair is super cool. its just that i like it. and i like it a certain way. even if that way means something along the lines of "stuck in the 80's." going to the hair salon, for me, is scarier and more dreaded than going to the gynocologist.

anyway. thank God my guardian fashion angel was on duty, or at least i like to think so. because the stylist was rockin and instead of rolling her eyes at what i can only imagine is the most dreaded thing a customer can say to you, she was excited at the opportunity and didn't even 2nd guess me, which was really great cuz i probably would've baled.

so i walked out 30 minutes later and $13 poorer with an awesome hair cut and let me tell you, i felt like some sexy stuff, ok? and then you know that look you get when you're smiling cuz you're in a totally awesome moment and then someone tells you they ran over your dog and your house accidentally exploded and you're over-drawn at the bank and by the way, you look fat in those jeans? yah, me neither, but i'm pretty sure i had the *look* nailed down by the end of the day after drama, drama, drama and nobody, NObody had noticed my hair. actually, my darling *flow* was the only one. i went to work totally defeated the next morning and i woke her up with a kiss like i always do, and she smiled and sat up and looked at me really hard and then felt my hair, chattering away, like she does. and i knew that she knew and i wanted to cry.

blargh.

so friday night, we're laying in bed, right. and we're talking about the week and some really big stuff going on in our lives and i was getting more and more frustrated by the minute,with jason, and finally i blurted out, "do you even like my hair?"

as they say in the south, "bless his heart". there was stunned silence for a moment before jason tentatively whispered, "i always like your hair?"

and drama queen that i am, burst into tears and had a massive melt-down, 2 year old style. rockin' it old school, kids. ohhhh yeah.

see.... i'd told myself it wasn't a big deal and he'd notice eventually or even if he didn't, it shouldn't matter. that i wasn't going to say anything because how stupid is that. and here i was, bawling that he "hadn't even noticed and i feel like people just look right through me. that they don't SEE me."

wow. harboring a little pity party, were we.

well he felt like crap and then i felt like crap and here's where the book helps me tell you why. i've always felt its wrong of women to put men in those situations. why didn't i just ask him on wednesday if he "liked my haircut". even if he hadn't noticed, he wouldn't have been left guessing or worse yet, feel like he let me down. he could've saved face without my even knowing and we'd both have been happy.

anyway. its totally God's fault that He made men so intricately complicated. i'm not even going there.

i love jason. but we've been thru some really really tough and trying times. and trust has been a very fragile thing. for me, trust is soooooo unbelievably hard. i've been burned,and burned bad.

so handing over the proverbial reigns and trusting? i'd rather birth a porcupine. in a vat of acid.

i feel like i bate jason unintentionally sometimes. i admit i don't always do such a great job at the trusting stuff. even over simple things, like dishes. he tells me he'll "wash the dishes if i put them away".

now, this is a good compromise in theory. but this plan has worked only twice. here's what happens: i get tired of waiting for him when his idea of washing the dishes is once a week. meanwhile, my ocd eyeballs are twitching and i finally just do it myself.

this largely represents our relationship, and is a source of great frustration for my husband. the thing is, i don't *think* my standards are too high. i have no problem communicating what i'd like. what i need. what i seriously must have to coexist successfully!! i could communicate enough for 10 of us.

he, however, does not. he has a severe allergic reaction to the term "lets talk" and becomes catatonic. maybe he drools. i don't know.

anyway, i can't imagine why, what with my sweet spirt and lovely ways, in just such circumstances. and surprisingly, the book is no help on this subject other than maybe i'm not "going about it the right way" or some such nonsense. but darlings, i'm in crisis mode right now, ok?

so if you'd like to pray or send me a hug-a-gram or light a candle or eat some rocky road for me right about now, i'd be much obliged.

i'll explain why, in my next post. stay tuned.