Sunday, 21 May 2006


Okay so it's a blog genre by itself, as it turns out. Relationships. Ben showed me an article on "Getting the most of your blogging". He's surprised I don't blog about the kids much. Too many bad days spread across long cold indoor winters where I didn't quite emerge the same girl I started out as. The Shining, folks. Being stuck inside does things to people and by the end of the winter I wasn't so nice and I didn't feel like writing an endless stream of how I felt because the internet isn't really such a private place and someday my kids might find out that some days I wished I was far far away from here. That's not so fair, is it? They'll know it's me, I had this nickname before they were born. So I chose to write about me and my life interacting with everyone in it instead. The men in my life. How hard I love, and why.

So not a mommy-blog, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

But mostly when I'm in pain or stressed out I write so honestly I wish I would just shut the hell up and not spill my guts. Usually I need to get it out more than I need to keep it in for my sanity's sake. So wow, yes, Bridget unabridged. Unapologetic.


Something I've been noticing lately. Touch. Affection. Needing it like air.

Touch specifically. Jacob's touch. He's an affectionate guy. Well, he's got his 'professional affection' (so I call it), with handshaking, light cheek kisses and the occasional warm hug. But with me, he's a seriously affectionate man. He's always hugging me, holding me, holding my hand. Kissing me. Lips, nose, forehead. Shoulder. He strokes my hair. Absently even. Like he has no idea. It's like he's confirming that I am indeed here with him, always in total contact. That's exactly what it is. He holds my face when we're in close. He traces my eyelashes, my bottom lip that he loves to run his thumb across. He does that and I am on the floor. I love that one thing in particular. He trails his fingers up my leg at the dinner table even.

He totally can't get enough of me. Ditto that. It's not sick. Everyone is jealous. I think.

I'm terrible for touching people all the time. Trey used to say he wasn't a monkey, leave him alone. I am always grabbing the kids when they go by and stealing hugs and kisses. I hug my friends. Now I have a willing victim that is mine all mine. I can run my hands through his hair, I can trace his ears, his jaw, his stomach muscles and he never complains ever. I think he loves it. He sleeps with his arms locked around me. I can't move when I sleep, my torso is too sore. He found a comfortable way to put his arms and it feels so good, it takes away the pain while I sleep. And when I open my eyes he's still there. Right in my face.

Okay it is sick isn't it? Most people beg off-too hot, gotta sleep now, go away. We don't care. That first night when he didn't leave we came full circle with the sleeping wrapped around each other business because that was how we met.

Yes I totally did just say that.

But is it okay if I mention we were fully clothed? No? Too bad. I'll tell the rest tomorrow. I can't feel my arm anymore.