Truly, Madly, Guiltily

Jeremiah kisses me goodbye every morning before he leaves for work. If he doesn't, I panic. I assume he's horribly mad at me and that he's definitely not coming home. The problem with this is that he's only been that mad at me a few times in our relationship...and he always came home.

I must be crazy.

Regardless of all that, the first thing I see in the morning when I wake up is Jeremiah's face right in front of me. Sometimes in my sleepy haze I cry when he has to leave, or I whine whine whine. I grunt 'Nooonnoonooo...' and he patiently pries my fingers off of him, kisses me and leaves.

Every time I look at his face, or make him smile and every single time we make love I am reminded of how much I adore him and how glad I am to have him. This is probably as annoying to him as the whining, gripping, half asleep banshee he has to snog every morning.

But all this brings me to my general point. I love him more than anything in the whole entire world. There. I said it. Skewer me now.

Ayelet Waldman wrote this article for The New York Times and was practically burnt at the stake for it. I remember when she was being talked about all over talk radio/television and especially on The View. She was being attacked mostly by Starr Jones...who, last time I checked didn't have any children OR a successful relationship. ANNNNDDDD now I'm attacking her. Wow. It's a viscious cycle.

The last two paragraphs speak to me more than the rest. They speak to me because of my past, of not loving my daughters' father like I 'should' have, of feeling guilty for loving Jeremiah that much more everyday.

I think of the way Jeremiah's left eye dips slightly lower than his right. I think of the scar on his back, the one he can't see. I think of the space of skin between his shoulder blades that pinches when he's stretching. I think of the way he looked at me the first time we kissed after not seeing each other for years and years:
I felt a growing ball in my chest as I got up from the table, from where I had been sitting across from him in a dark pub. I smiled, giggled, leaned over as I was walking past our table, stepping down off of the bench ledge. I leaned my face into his and I could feel the warmth explode in front of us, circling and exploding in tight spirals.
After we kissed I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My face was bubblegum pink, my eyes glossy and shiny, I felt thinner, I felt...joyful.

And if my children resent having been moons rather than the sun? If they berate me for not having loved them enough? If they call me a bad mother?

I will tell them that I wish for them a love like I have for their father. I will tell them that they are my children, and they deserve both to love and be loved like that. I will tell them to settle for nothing less than what they saw when they looked at me, looking at him.

Not a Puking Post.

I was going to write about Max puking on me the other night (she's not sick at all, just a random puking)...but custom orders have kept me busy.

Instead I'll post photos and some new dates so anybody planning on ordering for Christmas will have the heads up. Not as funny as randomly puking Maxines, but just as cute?!

Baby bear hats:


Cotton/Linen earwarmers/headbands. I was shocked at the quality of this organic yarn. Would be great for running and can be made any width:


A reminder to everyone planning on ordering custom items for Christmas. I must have your orders by Friday December 4th to insure I can make it and get it to you in time.

TIS THE SEASON, YO!

Also, keep in mind that I can make most orders from many different types of yarn, but if you have had problems with wool in the past please tell me and I'll make your order out of an acrylic yarn.

In Memoriam and Things I Have Learned This Week.

Jeremiah's maternal grandmother passed away this weekend and we spent most of this week with his family in a neighboring town commemorating her life.

She was a wonderful lady and will be missed by all who know her.

There were some good things and sad things about this week and weekend and here is what I have learned from this experience.

Jeremiah's momma kicks ass. I'm glad to have her in my life and glad she's here for my daughters and for Elijah.

My dad has a lot of ties.

There are numerous ways to tie ties, all difficult.

Panty hose and tights are surely of the devil's making. Burn them all now. If no one else wears them, then I won't have to either.

Being in a funeral procession is dangerous and not for the weak of heart.

There are not many vegetarian choices at restaurants. Also if you eat fish, you obviously have to eat it overcooked, covered in butter and bread crumbs AND oddly enough, orange juice.

Jeremiah will never recieve a satisfactory hair cut EVER in his lifetime. He will also swear heavily every time he gets one.

He's also incredibly handsome and I'm constantly overcome with the urge to kiss him. Right now he's upstairs in the bathroom and out of my reach...luckily for him cause I have some super noxious coffee/morning breath right now.

It's not appropriate to take photos at funerals/viewings so in order to get some photos of you, your son and your partner all gussied up, you have to take photos in the car. Or at the reception after the burial mass.






Also, my camera insists on whiting out my face, regardless of what setting I have it on.

Daddy's Girl.

Becky at Steam Me Up Kid just did a three part thingy where she posted sections of a journal from what I'm guessing was the early 90's. (There was an awesome Club MTV reference. I love Becky).

And Miss. Chief posted her journals from a three month trip to Mexico....

So with butterflies in my stomach, I dragged out my 'memory boxes' from storage to find the scribblings from my youth. While I did find some horribly and intensely embarrassing missives written by yours truly and tons upon tons of carefully folded notes from random people I barely remember, I found some hidden gems stashed in the trashy masses.

SOOOOO even though I promised you would get to read some crap I wrote when I was 13 and obsessed with boys and hated my parents, instead I will regale you with my dad's genius.

I vaguely remember both of these notes. At least, I can remember them enough to know that they came from two separate occasions....I guess I didn't take them to school, even though they were originally intended for the attendance office. I imagine a cranky and tired little me finding these notes on the kitchen table as I was gathering my stuff together to go to the bus stop.

To the Powers that be,

Upon comfortable arising at approximately noontime one recent day (I certainly shan't be bothered to remember which particular day), I vaguely noticed through audible and visual clues that one of my numerous progeny had deigned to take it upon itself to remain sequestered within the opulence of my estate, rather then to entertain itself amongst the common, albeit intellectually supercharged atmosphere of your "public school". I garnered from her nearly unintelligible mutterings that she suffered from what was referred to as "pains" and "nauseas". Satisfied as to the insincerity of her claims, I proceeded to ignore her, as is my wont. These incidents having left my mind entirely, I was of course mildly irritated to notice I must pen an "excuse" in defense of this aberrant child's absence. I therefore state without further ado that erin was absent on Tuesday due to allegedly claiming the distress of an alleged stomachache.

don't bother me further,
RB
ps. one law for The Lion and The Ox is oppression. -Blake



To you People,

Please excuse Erin on Feb. 6th and 7th due to the evident presence of vast, macrolopapular lesions or pustulus presenting anterio-cerebrally and excuffulating disgustingly down the anterior end of the posterior torso; judged to be cancerous by Erin. Despite parental pressure to the contrary, Erin remained absent from educational demonstrations. The whole mess cleared by 3:25 pm and was later diagnosed by a friend as being of Alien origin. Relieved, her parents released her to be educated once again this next day. As to the lateness of this note, I am rarely aware of the actual existence of my offspring, let alone the necessity of bothering myself to petition as to their absenteeism.

I therefore beg your pardon,
rlb


And then while I was putting the boxes back in storage, this small triangular crumbled note fell from the folds one of the boxes lids:

ERIN
I love you.
Not competing with your friends as
you and I
have loved one another for many years.
I repeat,
I love you.
Randy



And I love you, Daddy.

By the Pricking Of My Thumbs....

If you go and check out my shop, I'm putting most items up to $10 off. It's insane. I'm just trying to create some movement in my shop, because right now I have a lot of custom orders.

And I love custom orders.

But I also like movement...

Here are some of the sales:

Purple Scarf/Earflap set with Buttons ages 6 to pre-teen This set was $50 and is now $35.

Turtle Neck No Sweaters in GOLD

and

Beige/Cream Both of these were $25 and are now $15.



A reminder to everyone planning on ordering custom items for Christmas. I must have your orders by December 7th to insure I can make it and get it to you in time.

TIS THE SEASON, YO!



Tomorrow I will be gracing you with some blasts from my past. This might be hilarious to all of you, but it will definitely be a humbling experience for me . Just like Steamy and miss. Chief I will be sharing some of my scribblings from my youth.
My tragically dramatic youth. And by dramatic I mean drama of my own making.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Someone once told me that I am ‘clever’ and it was one of the best compliments I’ve ever received in my lifetime.

Some of the other best compliments:

“You are the best pusher I’ve ever seen, Erin. AND you didn’t poop.”

“Your belly skin doesn’t hang down all that much.”

“When she makes that weird scrunched up face, she really looks like you.”

“Your hair used to be so thick and luxurious….at least it will be easier to handle now.”


Because I'm obviously incredibly self-involved I often daydream about what my children will be like when they're grown.

Will Rose always take everything so much to heart? Will she ever learn to chill out a little bit and stop overthinking absolutely everything? Will she teach impoverished gypsy children in Romania? Will she travel the world as a doctor, treating people who otherwise would suffer and perish?

Will Olivia become more responsible as an adult? Will she be one of those people who's parents are always fixing their messes? Or will she be a famous actress/pro-human activist and use her obvious unabashed outgoing nature for good?

Will Maxine blow us all away? Will she be nothing like she is now? Will she stop throwing pieces of toilet paper on the floor for me to pick up and gag the whole time I'm cleaning up after her? Will she be an intense brooding writer, living with her painter boyfriend in a totally awesome and not at all cliche loft in Soho?

Will Elijah be an incredibly rich and talented pro-skater? Will he be the drummer for some awesome indie band? Will he always be so very GIANT?

Or will they all live with us till they're in their 40's and we move out just to get away from them?

Hmmm...that actually seems like a viable option. Jeremiah and I will act like those enabling parents and tell them all they can stay with us as long as they want. Then when they're all nice and cozy we'll take off and travel the world without them.

We'll make love in Crete on a small creaky rowboat off the Isle of Pharos.
We'll visit the coast of Ireland and walk for hours along craggy beaches and cliffs.
We'll sleep side by side enveloped in tiny cot in a run down motel beside the TGV station in Echternach, Luxembourg.

We'll miss them, I'm sure. But we won't ever ever come home.

Grace is Subjective

Today I grace you with my video presence once again.