I was just sitting on the couch wishing there was something GOOD on TV and I realized I hadn't blogged yet this week. I went through a dozen or so reasons as to why this was okay. Like who would really notice? Or don't I get holidays off? Couldn't I just do it tomorrow? But then it just kept nagging at me. Along with the thought that generally follows the 'time to blog' time. What the heck to write about. Generally I have a few ideas bouncing around in my head. Today. Not. So. Much.
I should start off with some catch up. I know - you probably think I'm going back to my California trip since I haven't quite finished that yet. But no....
I spent Memorial Day weekend with two of my best buddies ~ Anne Marie & Jack. Anne Marie being the only one qualified to be my best buddy. Jack, however, gets to be a guilt by association buddy. I mean, he really doesn't get my moods yet, but I'm sure that will come in time. Like when he's visiting his mom and I at the fogey home in a few decades. ("Oh, I just went to see my mom and her moody friend - yeah they were out in the rocking chairs making fun of people again.")
Who is clearly being raised perfectly right because he already knows that when you go shopping with the girls, you must assist in the hunting and gathering.
Even if it is a hot and sweaty day.
In the old days, Anne Marie and I would wake up exhausted from staying out too late. In a bar, for example.
Things have changed.
I was exhausted every morning from waking up excited to snuggle with Jack. Who didn't want to snuggle. Who wanted to continue whatever conversation we were having when he went to bed the previous night. While playing with a truck. No, make that the easel. No make that the scooter. No, a book. No, it's time for a Popsicle. Some cereal. Chalk. Plane. Plane. Plane.
Oh. THIS is how they roll in their two's.
Sign of a good friend:
She dons a swimsuit among a party of complete strangers thus maximizing her Jack Time.
While Jack's mother gets to stay fully clothed.
So she can chase Jack around said party for two and a half straight hours while he played with a pool noodle. No, a ball. No, the mud. No, the noodle. Watching the local deer. Watching the big boys. Running down a hill. Eating a hot dog. Feeding the hot dog to the real dog. Time for cake. Time for chips.
Holy moly does he ever stop? No. That would be a 'no.'
God Bless Anne Marie.
I'm super proud of her. And whenever I think of how well she does as a single mom with a toddler - I become tired in a Pavlovian way.
I've now upped my adoption age. I'm going to wait until Jack's five or so and THEN get a five year old of my own. Maybe a seven year old. Someone who isn't so much on the go, anyway.
What really motivated me to get crack-a-lackin was watching the Today show. Yes, that's right - I record the Today show so I can watch it at my leisure. This is especially effective on weekends when I want to sleep in. Have I mentioned 'sleeping in' apparently goes away as soon as you turn forty? Suck ass.
Right - so today's concert on Today was...wait for it...sit down...deep breath...not one...but two...BOY BANDS! NKOTBSB to be exact. Not hip to that? Living under a rock?
New Kids on the Block and Back Street Boys. Well, alright.
While watching, I was once again mesmerized by Joey McIntyre. And was reminded of my plans to marry him. Whoopsie.
Which then got me thinking of all the dudes I was going to marry. I mean, really and truly, I was 100% convinced that I would rather die than not be with these guys.
Put your comfy shoes on. For we are going to stroll down Memory Lane.
Shawn Cassidy. My first love.
Numero Dos: Leif Garrett. Look at those locks.
It was either his poster or Shawn's that I used to 'brush' the hair on.
John Taylor. Duran Duran, people - stay with me.
See, this is where I got smart.
All the girls were going to marry Nick Rhodes.
So being brilliant, I saved myself for John - who would be sad and lonely because he was leftovers.
Or Calvin Klein.
Or Calvin Klein.
I'd have called him whatever he wanted.
My tastes changed her - I started going for the short haired guys.
Joey, Joey, Joey.
Again - strategery. He was the young and impressionable one.
Apparently at this age, I was allowed to go to the movies.
Stay Gold, Ponyboy.
I gave up on my theory of the underdog at this point -
and decided to go straight for the star.
If only I'd known.
First Hockey Love.
RIP my friend - Peter Zezel.
Who taught the whole league how to play with
their jerseys tucked in just a bit.
And my forever Hockey Love.
Who has now gotten married twice without inviting me to the altar.
I feel like he's trying to tell me something. Doubtful.
Shortly after realizing I was falling for Justin Timberlake,
I realized I should aim for someone closer to my age.
Someone dark and brooding perhaps.
Reality Bites. Really. It does.
And then with one flick of his brim - I was a goner.
Brad Pitt - you win the prize.
Even through your, um, phases....I still hold out hope for us.
I guess I'm getting more realistic in my old age.
No sense living on pipe dreams.
Just aim for giggles and smiles and a good sense of wonder.
Don't be weird - of course I'm not going to marry Jack. But here's a guy who loves me for me. And my access to the Popsicles. Here's a guy who thinks I'm funny and wants to hang out with me. So maybe he's two-and-a-half. He makes me happy and sometimes that's just good enough.