Will's Story

Will brought home a story he wrote last week.

What he actually wrote:

I win to a ws wot and I at pesgu.
and der waz moosit.
and I tllt fue juox.

Lucky for us, he could still read his own story.

What he read to us:

I went to a restaurant and I ate spaghetti.
And there was music.
And I told funny jokes.

Steve said it's apparent that Will has more than a little German in him.

My Give-a-Damn is Busted

Over the last few years, I have had several occasions come up where I was truly shocked at how unaffected I was by them.

From simple things like Will falling and skinning his knee while Steve and I watch him ride his bike. Steve jumps up and runs over to check on him and I sit in the chair and sip my drink. If I'm out watching Will ride by myself and he falls down, I yell, "Get out of the middle of the road," and wait for him to come to me. Yet, at the time it's happening, I remember when I jumped and ran for the girls when something similar happened.

I can say, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the change in reaction is not due to a lack of affection. I love all my children. I'm just not the same person now that I was when my girls were little.

There have been many other instances over the last few years: my waning (read nonexistent) interest in holidays, lack of participation in Will's school events (I attend what I have to, but don't ask me to do any more than that), determination not to sign Will up for after school activities, etc.

Another big instance of a lack of interest arrived when Lew and Dona returned from their latest trip to ND. They brought back a cradle that Steve made out of Mesquite and I fashioned linens for before Will was born. Steve sent it up to Dave years ago for his son, and now Dave has returned it.

The cradle means something significant to both Steve and Dave. And it should, I guess. Counting Linden, every male Marquardt from Lew's side of the family will have slept in the cradle. Besides that, it was made by Steve, and Tori burned a longhorn in both sides of it. Hell, I even made the linens.

So, was I excited to have it back? No. All I can think about is that I had already purchased a cradle, disinfected it, purchased linens for it and washed them, and have it made up and in place for the baby. I also happen to have a bassinet in the living room and a crib in the nursery. Now I have another bed to clean up and I have to figure where the hell they are all going to go. I can't even get rid of the other cradle as it is nearly twice the size of the one Steve made. I don't think Will slept in the homemade cradle but about 6 weeks.

As I work on the crib, I keep wondering about my lack of enthusiasm. Not just about the crib, but about a lot of things. I don't think it's my age, as Steve and I are the same age and he still gives a damn about many things I've lost interest in.

I'm wondering if it has more to do with the years I've already been a parent. After 20 years of jumping and running for each bump and scrape, diving head-first into school activities, and really trying to impress your children with holidays--

Maybe I'm just worn out.

Or again, maybe my give-a-damn really is busted.

The New Family Dynamics

Until Will started school, he only knew about traditional families. Which, when I think about it, is pretty amazing. But all his relatives have been in steady relationships since he's been alive. No divorces or breakups. No separations.

Once he started riding the bus, we began to associate more with the other families of like-age children in our area.

Ethan, who is in Will's class room, lives with his mom and step-father. He spends every other weekend with his dad.

Gabriel lives with his mom, and sees his dad some evenings and every other weekend.

And the other two families are traditional.

I never really thought about how this might impact Will or his thinking until a few weeks ago. We were outside laying in the hammock watching baby squirrels play in a near-by tree. There was only one adult squirrel visible and Will decided it was the "mommy". When I asked him why it couldn't be the daddy, his response was...

"Because, it's not the daddy's weekend."

The Shocking Things Kids Say

You get use to your young children saying things that shock you. However, as they grow, it happens less and less. But it does happen.

Since I've shared the news about their new siblings with the girls they have both managed to say something that totally shocked me into silence. First, you have to understand that the upcoming Marquardt - currently called Panda, as we have no idea it's sex yet - was not planned, anticipated, or really wanted. (Don't go getting on your high horse. How would you feel finding out you were starting all over from scratch at 45?)

Tori

We were riding back from lunch and she says the following just totally out of the blue . . .

"I wish you had waited a few years.
Then we could have had our babies together."

"Wouldn't that have been fun?"


Bonnet


I received the following text from Bonnet this morning.


"So, I was talking to one of my coworkers
about you being pregnant.
She had a great point...
Ur new kid will get all the
rockstar handicap parking."

The Casual Hook Up

I've been going out dancing with a group of friends for a few months now. There a bunch of fun women about my age. One of them is married, but most of them are single and looking. I have no problem with this. Most everyone takes their own vehicle, so they can leave when they want to - with, or without, more company than they showed up with. (But, it's never happened.)

Last night we met up at a favorite hang out of ours and I invited a friend of mine that's never been out with us before. Since we live on the opposite side of town from the club, we carpooled.

She's single, young, cute. A single, young, and relatively cute guy came over about an hour into our night and just camped out next to her. About 15 minutes before we were scheduled to leave she asks if I'd mind giving him a ride - to her house.

I've never been the one-night stand type of person and I was totally flabbergasted (maybe because I am old enough to use flabbergasted in a sentence).

Even so, this probably would not have made it onto my blog except for part of a conversation I overheard on the ride home.

The young man is sitting in the back seat talking to my friend who is riding in the front. And suddenly, he leans forwards and asks, "Hey, if you're not doing anything tomorrow, you want to go on a date?"

My friend turn around and says, "You didn't want to -"

"Oh, no. Tonight is good," he immediately assured her. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date tomorrow."

I hate to show my age . . . but shouldn't the date have come first?

Bad "Body Image" Week

To say the last few days have been hard on my self-perceived body image, would be an understatement. It's been almost a year since I started working on getting myself back into shape. In that time I've lost over 50 pounds and dropped from a pants size 20 to a size 11. I've joined a gym and started building back muscles. I've been trying to take care of my skin. All in all, I'd say I was happy with my progress.

I like to think that if I never dropped another pound or went down another size I could be content to stay as I am right now.

Well, that was the way I felt Thursday.

Saggy Boobs

Thursday night Will was sick and I kept him home from school on Friday. He was whiny and followed me every where I went; including into the bathroom when I took my bath. I haven't let him see me without clothing for years, but he didn't want to be alone. It didn't take long before I realized the 'real' reason women quit letting their children see them naked.

He hadn't been in there but a few minutes when he just flat out says, "Mom, you have long boobies." I ignored him. Hoping that by not making a big deal out of what he'd said, it would just slide by.

A few minutes later, "Really Mom, you have long boobies." I asked him if he wanted to leave the bathroom and he replied "No". "Then don't talk about my boobies," I told him. "But Mom, they are really long."

Later that evening, I told Steve about it. And my loving husband has made a point to refer to my long boobies every chance he gets. He thinks it's hilarious.

Old Thin Women

Steve and I went dancing at a new place Friday night and I was surprised that about 70% of the clientele was over the age of 60. As the night passed, I begin to notice that all the old women were thinner than I was, wore smaller sizes, and had waists (mine hasn't made a reappearance yet). Not only did hanging around so many people older than me make me feel old, but fat at well.

No Hips

Tonight I attended my first belly-dancing class. I was comforted, upon arrival, to see over half the class was my age or older. Most all of them about the same size I was, or larger. The teacher lined us up in front of the mirror and started right in.

The first things we did was exercise our hips. Right in the middle of her discussion on what to do she looked at me and said that some of this might be more difficult for me since I had such small hips.

Every time anything having to do with hips was mentioned, and it came up often over the next hour, she made a point of addressing me in front of the entire class with ideas or suggestions for people with small hips. Every time the male student made a comment about abdominal muscles, differences in stance, etc. (as it applied to male dancers), the instructor would comment then turn to me, "You need to be aware of this as well, as you might have this same issue since your hips are so narrow."

At the end of class she talked about our practicing at home in front of mirrors and how we could touch certain muscles to make sure we were doing everything correctly, because every one has a different body style and not all moves will be totally visible on some bodies...and she was looking at me.

The Conclusion

Last week I was happy with my body. I knew I needed to work on my abdominal area, but I've started some exercises that target that area and really hoped my belly-dancing class would help. It was all good.

This week, I have saggy boobs, no hips, and I'm an old fat woman.

Loss of Self

Outside of a major trauma, people don't tend to loose themselves all at once. It generally happens without notice. A compromise here, looking the other way there, not returning the item in the bottom of the basket that got overlooked during check out.

When we are young, and most of our boundaries and ideas are set, they are set in stone. Actually, they are set in black and white. It is only as we live that different shades of gray become obvious.

Today, for the first time, I knowingly face the loss of a piece of self. Tomorrow, a friend of mine is doing something I whole-heatedly do not approve of. Something that is repugnant to me. I have not spoken up against it, as it is not illegal, and I know it is not a decision she has come to lightly. I know she needs my support. I am one of the few people she has mentioned this to, and I need to honor that trust by helping her through this.

But a few minutes ago, it got worse. At least for me. She asked if I would drive her to her appointment and pick her up later. Now I am no longer an impartial observer that kept quite, I'm an actual participant in the action.

Yes, I could have said no. But what good is my support if it's only verbal?

I'll do it. It's just two rides. An hour out of my day. And I know it wouldn't be safe for her to drive herself home.

She is my friend, and I love her. Regardless.

I'm just a little saddened tonight over the smearing of another black line in my soul.