Stay At Home Love
The shrill ring of the phone startled me. I'd been standing at the sink up to my elbows in lukewarm soapy water for almost an hour. The stack of dirty dishes didn't seem to have shrunk much but the clean dishes stacked on towels laid out over every available inch of cupboard space was impressive.
"Mom, it's for you yelled a voice from the basement."
I wiped one hand on the seat of my jeans before picking up the phone, "Hello," I answered with little enthusiasm expecting a salesperson.
"How's the most gorgeous wife in the world?" Asked the caller in a beautifully husky voice.
My heart skipped a beat then resumed its pace at a much faster rate. My breathing stopped as Adorable Hubby's voice brought to mind his amazing good looks and incredible prowess in the bedroom.
I couldn't think of a witty response, as usual his singularly intense interest in, 'little ol' me', left me wordless. Or, perhaps, it was spending day after day speaking toddler that left me unable to come up with a quick adult appropriate response. I spluttered stupidly wondering what on earth he was calling for at three in the afternoon.
"Did you need something?" I finally got out.
He chuckled delightedly at my bewilderment, "I'm just calling to say Happy Birthday to my best girl," his voice sang through the phone line.
"Oh, and don't make dinner." He added.
"Please don't remind me," I groaned.
"You know how I feel about attention on my birthdays". I remembered the silk funeral wreath my boys had given me for Mothers Day one year. Plus there was the painful realization that women seem to be age far more quickly then men.
"You know I can't do that, anyway my family and some of yours are sure to remember." He attempted to console me.
"Just don't go overboard," I sighed in resignation.
Two hours later, dishes done and put away, I was finishing wiping down the cupboards when the front door opened. I knew who it was before I looked, it was always that way for me, I could feel him before he ever entered the room. Now, if only I could work some timing into my awareness so that I could be showered, dressed in something presentable with my hair and make-up done before he actually came in the room.
I gazed with quickened breathing at his beautiful face, strong shoulders and belly as usual he was impeccably dressed in an un-ironed tan shirt, cleverly over washed jeans and scuffed loafers. I loved his looks; but, it was his smell that took my breath away and made my stomach turn somersaults. I breathed in the enticing scent, mmm, McDonald's cheeseburgers, fries, nuggets and orange drinks I guessed. My stomach confirmed it before he said, "Wow, you're amazing!" and pulled the bags out from behind his back.
"Happy Birthday" He said as he pulled me into his arms for a kiss.
"It's Mom's birthday, hey did you know it's Mom's birthday?" yelled our loquacious seven year old.
"I gotta tell the brothers it's Moms birthday, Oh and that it's McDonald's for dinner," he yelled to himself as he ran towards the basement stairs.
Momentarily alone, except for the dog, we kissed slowly savoring each others touch. He pulled me tight as the kiss intensified, "We'll save this present for later." he murmured. We shared a laugh at the ludicrous idea that we would actually have time to enjoy each other before we both collapsed in bed from exhaustion.
Ow! I picked up the toddler who was announcing his presence by biting my ankle. "I know what you're thinking." Said Adorable Hubby as he took the drooling toddler from me.
"You're thinking you can fall asleep in your highchair during dinner and keep Mom up all night". The toddler flashed a gap toothed grin at Adorable Hubby confirming the accuracy of his uncanny mind reading ability.
Four hours, 5 birthday well wishers, three football practices, one book report, four pages of math and a seventh grade vocabulary sheet later. I collapsed into the cushiest arm chair our family room had to offer. I was instantly covered by a seven year old, a four year old and fussy toddler, who whined, elbowed and occasionally bit for position until one by one they all dropped off to sleep. Adorable Hubby randomly yelled at the four older children to calm down and go to bed as he flipped mindlessly through educational TV shows.
Just as my eyes were closing and beloved sleep was reaching out to take me in it's tender arms. Adorable Hubby called out in his beautiful husky voice, "Hey, gorgeous don't forget about your birthday present". I turned my head, carefully so I wouldn't wake the children covering me, to see if he were serious. The crooked smile on his face assured me that he was.
"Feel free to carry a baby to bed," I suggested. He effortlessly lifted the four year old into his arms then took the seven year old by the hand and headed for the bedroom. I gazed down at our rosy cheeked, curly blond haired baby how could anything be more beautiful. I smiled into his closed eyes, glad he didn't bite in his sleep. As I balanced my sleeping baby, turned off TV's, lights, and tucked in covers my heart swelled with love.
Anticipation grew in me as I brushed my teeth and slipped into a naughty nightie, in the next room waiting on our rumpled king sized bed was a pile of unfolded clothes and the man who had changed me from a silly embarrassed girl into a powerful, passionate women with seven amazing sons and a dog. I moved gracefully into the bedroom and leapt to the end of bed efficiently tossing the laundry into a neat pile in the corner. I crouched at the foot of the bed growling throatily, my eyes locked with my mates. He rose to meet me, we came together kissing, groping wildly, rolling passionately amongst the crumpled sheets. We'd long ago learned to love madly and quickly so, as we separated to lie flushed with love, satiated and panting on the bed, the sleepy cry of, "Momma, MOMMA!" from the nursery only made us smile.
"Good night Gorgeous," he sighed sleepily.
"Good night Adorable Hubby," I said softly as I climbed out of bed in the soft glow of the night light.
There you have it the second and final chapter in Nightlight, My Life As A Vampire Novel.
Adorable Hubby wants you to know that my writing, the bedroom stuff anyway, is more than mere fiction it ascends to the genre of extreme fantasy.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
My Life As A Vampire Novel
I'm back, I've spent the last week plus on the Olympic Peninsula in northern Washington state surrounded by good vampires, an exciting smattering of bad vampires, werewolves, well kinda werewolves, and the human girl/women who loves them all. I enjoyed a trip to Italy where I met evil vampires and I honeymooned on an exclusive private island off the coast of Brazil. Oops, hope I didn't give too much away.
Yes like so many others of my fellow bloggers and women all over the world I've finished, in a little over a week, the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer, all 2712 pages if you include the 268 pages from Edwards point-of-view on the internet. My kids have been fending for themselves, Adorable Hubby can't figure out why I bite his neck every time he wants a kiss and my poor, poor house....
I knew I was officially back this morning when I woke up to a little voice inquiring if I would fix him Ramen noodles for breakfast. Tripping over all the crap in the hall only to focus blearily on a sink full of dirty dishes did a lot to bring me skidding to a grinding halt at the brink of reality.
"Why can't my life be a Vampire Novel?" I grumbled to my Ramen craving 5 year old, who gazed up with his usual stoic expression on a trampoline skinned face.
"Ramen Mom, now!" He muttered with a hungry human snarl.
"Say please!" I replied automatically, slowly taking in the catastrophe of my neglected house; but, his snarly attitude got me to thinking, "what would my life look like as a Vampire Novel?"
So here goes my attempt at literary genius, I shall call it NIGHTLIGHT, the, all to real story, of a stay at homevampire vampireesse Mom.
Chapter 1
Who Are These Children and Why are They Calling me Mom?
A painful shiver shook my body as I turned my face into the cold, misty, drizzle. I stood motionless for a few moments remembering a time, long, long ago, of gloriously hot water. I sighed, turned and opened my eyes to gaze at the misty green tint that covered every surface, "Move, clean the moldy bathroom up on the To Do List", I thought to myself with a futile little chuckle.
I stepped out of the frigid shower, over a still screaming, "I wan showeah wif mommy!" toddler, and reached for a once fluffy towel. I struggled to wrap the towel all the way around me, complaining sarcastically to myself that the towel seemed to have shrunk over the years, at the same rate it had faded and lost its fluff.
A slightly older child stuck his head in the bathroom door, shattering the small semblance of privacy I had achieved by ignoring the screaming toddler, and announced that he was hungry. "OK, can I dry off and get dressed before I fix you something?" I asked snidely.
"Sure!" He acquiesced, his gaze moved slowly down my sparsely covered body. "Mom?" He inquired innocently, "Are all Mom's squishy like you?"
I glanced in the mirror grateful that the steam collected on the glass obscured a few pounds and most of the stretch marks. My blue-green eyes squinted nearsightedly as I critically examined my cheeks, pink from repeatedly shoving the fully clothed toddler out of my shower and my Revlon color 27-5 hair trailing wetly down my towel clad back. Fortunately the questioner had wandered back to Nick Jr. and I escaped without having to answer.
Dressed in my least dirty jeans and a shapeless sweatshirt, pilfered from the pile of clean clothes at the end of the unmade king sized bed, I picked up the damp, sobbing toddler and headed into the kitchen to clean up from breakfast and make lunch. I gazed down at his tear stained, splotchy face, how could something so fussy and often stinky have such a hold over my heart? I leaned down to kiss his soft cheek, my efforts were rewarded by a painful bite on the shoulder.
"Ow! No biting you little Dracula," I chided.
"Mom, you said we couldn't call him a vampire!" I threw a guilty look in the direction of the seven year old eating a bowl of cereal.
"I also recall saying you couldn't have a bowl of cereal for lunch," I shot back.
His response was drowned out by two preteens rough housing up the stairs. "Mom, you need to cut his toenails or people will figure out he's a werewolf!" taunted the older boy.
"No One is cutting my nails, I like them long!" yelled the younger child, challenging my authority with fiery, sapphire blue eyes under a mop of wheat blond hair.
"Take it outside, but not to far. I'll have lunch ready in 10 minutes" I ordered in my most authoritative voice.
"It won't be ready for an hour" they grumbled leaving the door open behind them. They didn't think much of my efforts to keep their rapidly growing bodies fed.
The deep rumble of a sleek, high powered 1998 Suburban announced the arrival of two teenage boys. Sun attempted to flash off the dusty maroon paint job as the brakes shrieked. I smiled at my two stunningly handsome sons who seemed to barely move as they left the car to appear at my side, towering over me.
"What's for lunch?" asked the taller one his blondish hair carelessly styled to look as though he were six months late for a haircut.
"Peanut butter sandwiches?" I suggested then waited for the familiar response.
"Mom" rumbled the dark haired, boy his muscles rippling under a white t-shirt,"We're men we need protein. Don't we have any meat?"
"Peanut Butter is protein and raspberry jam makes it look raw and bloody just like you like your steaks, you get to use your imagination." I smiled sarcastically.
"You realize were both bigger then you now?" Asked the older one, bristling at my sarcasm.
"Bring it!" I snarled meeting his aggression with supreme confidence. Years of wearing extra clothing to avoid sunlights sad little revelations; forced to spend sleepless night after sleepless night, my life illuminated only by Nick At Night and the feeble glow of a heartless night light had made me a dangerous adversary.
We three glowered at each other for few long moments until the toddler bit my clawed hand.
Am I not an amazing novelist?
Chapter 2 coming soon.
Yes like so many others of my fellow bloggers and women all over the world I've finished, in a little over a week, the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer, all 2712 pages if you include the 268 pages from Edwards point-of-view on the internet. My kids have been fending for themselves, Adorable Hubby can't figure out why I bite his neck every time he wants a kiss and my poor, poor house....
I knew I was officially back this morning when I woke up to a little voice inquiring if I would fix him Ramen noodles for breakfast. Tripping over all the crap in the hall only to focus blearily on a sink full of dirty dishes did a lot to bring me skidding to a grinding halt at the brink of reality.
"Why can't my life be a Vampire Novel?" I grumbled to my Ramen craving 5 year old, who gazed up with his usual stoic expression on a trampoline skinned face.
"Ramen Mom, now!" He muttered with a hungry human snarl.
"Say please!" I replied automatically, slowly taking in the catastrophe of my neglected house; but, his snarly attitude got me to thinking, "what would my life look like as a Vampire Novel?"
So here goes my attempt at literary genius, I shall call it NIGHTLIGHT, the, all to real story, of a stay at home
Chapter 1
Who Are These Children and Why are They Calling me Mom?
A painful shiver shook my body as I turned my face into the cold, misty, drizzle. I stood motionless for a few moments remembering a time, long, long ago, of gloriously hot water. I sighed, turned and opened my eyes to gaze at the misty green tint that covered every surface, "Move, clean the moldy bathroom up on the To Do List", I thought to myself with a futile little chuckle.
I stepped out of the frigid shower, over a still screaming, "I wan showeah wif mommy!" toddler, and reached for a once fluffy towel. I struggled to wrap the towel all the way around me, complaining sarcastically to myself that the towel seemed to have shrunk over the years, at the same rate it had faded and lost its fluff.
A slightly older child stuck his head in the bathroom door, shattering the small semblance of privacy I had achieved by ignoring the screaming toddler, and announced that he was hungry. "OK, can I dry off and get dressed before I fix you something?" I asked snidely.
"Sure!" He acquiesced, his gaze moved slowly down my sparsely covered body. "Mom?" He inquired innocently, "Are all Mom's squishy like you?"
I glanced in the mirror grateful that the steam collected on the glass obscured a few pounds and most of the stretch marks. My blue-green eyes squinted nearsightedly as I critically examined my cheeks, pink from repeatedly shoving the fully clothed toddler out of my shower and my Revlon color 27-5 hair trailing wetly down my towel clad back. Fortunately the questioner had wandered back to Nick Jr. and I escaped without having to answer.
Dressed in my least dirty jeans and a shapeless sweatshirt, pilfered from the pile of clean clothes at the end of the unmade king sized bed, I picked up the damp, sobbing toddler and headed into the kitchen to clean up from breakfast and make lunch. I gazed down at his tear stained, splotchy face, how could something so fussy and often stinky have such a hold over my heart? I leaned down to kiss his soft cheek, my efforts were rewarded by a painful bite on the shoulder.
"Ow! No biting you little Dracula," I chided.
"Mom, you said we couldn't call him a vampire!" I threw a guilty look in the direction of the seven year old eating a bowl of cereal.
"I also recall saying you couldn't have a bowl of cereal for lunch," I shot back.
His response was drowned out by two preteens rough housing up the stairs. "Mom, you need to cut his toenails or people will figure out he's a werewolf!" taunted the older boy.
"No One is cutting my nails, I like them long!" yelled the younger child, challenging my authority with fiery, sapphire blue eyes under a mop of wheat blond hair.
"Take it outside, but not to far. I'll have lunch ready in 10 minutes" I ordered in my most authoritative voice.
"It won't be ready for an hour" they grumbled leaving the door open behind them. They didn't think much of my efforts to keep their rapidly growing bodies fed.
The deep rumble of a sleek, high powered 1998 Suburban announced the arrival of two teenage boys. Sun attempted to flash off the dusty maroon paint job as the brakes shrieked. I smiled at my two stunningly handsome sons who seemed to barely move as they left the car to appear at my side, towering over me.
"What's for lunch?" asked the taller one his blondish hair carelessly styled to look as though he were six months late for a haircut.
"Peanut butter sandwiches?" I suggested then waited for the familiar response.
"Mom" rumbled the dark haired, boy his muscles rippling under a white t-shirt,"We're men we need protein. Don't we have any meat?"
"Peanut Butter is protein and raspberry jam makes it look raw and bloody just like you like your steaks, you get to use your imagination." I smiled sarcastically.
"You realize were both bigger then you now?" Asked the older one, bristling at my sarcasm.
"Bring it!" I snarled meeting his aggression with supreme confidence. Years of wearing extra clothing to avoid sunlights sad little revelations; forced to spend sleepless night after sleepless night, my life illuminated only by Nick At Night and the feeble glow of a heartless night light had made me a dangerous adversary.
We three glowered at each other for few long moments until the toddler bit my clawed hand.
Am I not an amazing novelist?
Chapter 2 coming soon.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Homecoming, 2008
We had a 'first' weekend around here! Jacob and Joshua wrapped a poem around a rose and asked two great girls to homecoming. The poem was printed in fancy writing, burned around the edges and tied with ribbon around a long stemmed rose. The poem was oh so creative!
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
I would be honored
to go to Homecoming
With you!
Creative, no?
The girls accepted with flying pigs and cupcakes, typical boys more concerned with their bellies then darling ideas decided that if the flying pigs had been bacon they would almost have had a complete meal.
We all worked together to plan the day and the menu. At one point during the meal preparation a helpful younger brother pointed out that going to Olive Garden would have been a lot easier. Thank heavens for practical little brothers, too bad he never speaks up until it's too late.
Actually it was delightful to have little brothers cleaning and helping. It was incredible to have a father gather every candle in the house to light, and take his boys out to gather tablecloths and black socks. No white socks for our boys at a semi-formal dance, we save the white socks with dress pants for Sundays. The very best part for Mom was having our Uber Picky! number two send "compliments to the chef" back with the cute waiters.
It was a joy to serve our boys and work together to make it a fun evening.
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
I would be honored
to go to Homecoming
With you!
Creative, no?
The girls accepted with flying pigs and cupcakes, typical boys more concerned with their bellies then darling ideas decided that if the flying pigs had been bacon they would almost have had a complete meal.
We all worked together to plan the day and the menu. At one point during the meal preparation a helpful younger brother pointed out that going to Olive Garden would have been a lot easier. Thank heavens for practical little brothers, too bad he never speaks up until it's too late.
Actually it was delightful to have little brothers cleaning and helping. It was incredible to have a father gather every candle in the house to light, and take his boys out to gather tablecloths and black socks. No white socks for our boys at a semi-formal dance, we save the white socks with dress pants for Sundays. The very best part for Mom was having our Uber Picky! number two send "compliments to the chef" back with the cute waiters.
It was a joy to serve our boys and work together to make it a fun evening.
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Thursday, October 9, 2008
Works For Me Wednesday, On Thursday
For Christmas My friend Suzie gave me the first book in the Twilight series. I picked it up at random yesterday AM at 7:30 put it down yesterday at 11:30 PM. I take great pride in the fact that I managed to read the Preface, 498 pages and the sneak peak at book 2, plus get my hair cut and colored, attend two football games, vacuum and shower (at 6:45 PM after someone else had washed my hair, thanks Heather).
Losing myself occasionally in a book definitely Worked for me Wednesday.
Losing myself occasionally in a book definitely Worked for me Wednesday.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Blog Envy
I've spent many hours over the last few days reading many wonderful blogs out there in the blogosphere. I am now suffering with a bad case of blog envy, So many of y'all have such amazingly written, designed, edited and illustrated blogs, that I'm a tiny bit jealous. I've been contemplating fitting a web design class, a writing workshop or two and some art and photography classes into my schedule. Ha, who am I kidding I still haven't even figured out how to link to words or url's on my site so I can share some of these fun blogs I've discovered with you.
Thanks to all who drop by, special thanks to those who comment.
Thanks to all who drop by, special thanks to those who comment.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Whine
There's a reason that it's been a week since my last post, last Friday as I was manically cleaning my house I should have figured it out.
Thursday when I got teary eyed from looking at my jars of homemade Peach and Raspberry jam I should have had a clue.
Saturday when my achy muscles were carrying me to the Football Fund Raiser Breakfast, baptism, birthday party, Usborne book party, errands, Womens Conference, then more errands I might have noticed.
Sunday as I cooked a birthday dinner for Adorable Hubby, my famous Chicken Cordon-Blu and Chocolate Pudding dessert, went to choir practice and did primary sharing time in a feverish haze, I shoulda known.
I missed it, perhaps it's because usually when I'm coming down with a really icky bug I have a minute at the doctors office while my child is running wildly, between the fish tank and slide-the-bead thingy, suddenly symptom free that it occurs to me "I don't feel good at all, I think I'm sick".
Now this morning after more than a week of icky misery I am dealing with that ugly voice in my head telling me I am being lazy, that my house is a catastrophe (which it is) and that my two hour nap yesterday didn't make me better so it was a waste of time. I feel terrible, why can't I give myself a break and get better?
Because there are cookies to make for the PTA and parent teacher conferences and three football games and practices and girls to ask to Homecoming and dishes and laundry and bills and homework and....on and on and on.
I'm in a crisis here and I'm not whining for congress to vote me a bailout bill.
So all the hullabaloo about financial crisis and elections combined with my misery and schedule got me to thinking. We need a Mom as president not some lawyer, governor, patriot, congress member, a career stay at home mom with at least five kids close together. A mom who can balance a baby on her hip while making dinner. Create peace between a 4 year old and a five year old. Pay the bills on her husbands salary and squeeze out enough extra for music lessons, sports and the occasional family vacation. The women who serves at church on the PTA and takes care of her aging parents. She who can diplomatically arrange extended family dinners, and play dates with multiple friends of varying needs and ages. A mom who can speak twenty languages including little league coach, toddler, teenager and crazy neighbor lady. The women who keeps her husband happy in the bedroom and enjoys doing it. And she does it all sick without to much whining and doesn't blame some other mom when she messes up.
Thursday when I got teary eyed from looking at my jars of homemade Peach and Raspberry jam I should have had a clue.
Saturday when my achy muscles were carrying me to the Football Fund Raiser Breakfast, baptism, birthday party, Usborne book party, errands, Womens Conference, then more errands I might have noticed.
Sunday as I cooked a birthday dinner for Adorable Hubby, my famous Chicken Cordon-Blu and Chocolate Pudding dessert, went to choir practice and did primary sharing time in a feverish haze, I shoulda known.
I missed it, perhaps it's because usually when I'm coming down with a really icky bug I have a minute at the doctors office while my child is running wildly, between the fish tank and slide-the-bead thingy, suddenly symptom free that it occurs to me "I don't feel good at all, I think I'm sick".
Now this morning after more than a week of icky misery I am dealing with that ugly voice in my head telling me I am being lazy, that my house is a catastrophe (which it is) and that my two hour nap yesterday didn't make me better so it was a waste of time. I feel terrible, why can't I give myself a break and get better?
Because there are cookies to make for the PTA and parent teacher conferences and three football games and practices and girls to ask to Homecoming and dishes and laundry and bills and homework and....on and on and on.
I'm in a crisis here and I'm not whining for congress to vote me a bailout bill.
So all the hullabaloo about financial crisis and elections combined with my misery and schedule got me to thinking. We need a Mom as president not some lawyer, governor, patriot, congress member, a career stay at home mom with at least five kids close together. A mom who can balance a baby on her hip while making dinner. Create peace between a 4 year old and a five year old. Pay the bills on her husbands salary and squeeze out enough extra for music lessons, sports and the occasional family vacation. The women who serves at church on the PTA and takes care of her aging parents. She who can diplomatically arrange extended family dinners, and play dates with multiple friends of varying needs and ages. A mom who can speak twenty languages including little league coach, toddler, teenager and crazy neighbor lady. The women who keeps her husband happy in the bedroom and enjoys doing it. And she does it all sick without to much whining and doesn't blame some other mom when she messes up.
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