Jacob's truth serum.

Last night Jacob finally let his moralistic guard down and had a second glass of wine. And a third too. Considering how big he is you would think he could hold his liquor but he just can't seem to manage it and therefore he has always been a designated driver, a teetotaler. Except for once a year or less he just says "fuck it" and has a few.

I have been waiting for this night, honestly because he's as honest and forthright as I am when all inhibitions go away. He speaks his mind and I think he finds it to be akin to when Hemingway talks of seeing Cezanne's paintings in a new light when you're hungry. You see the beauty so much more clearly. He's honest to the point of hurtful. I have learned the most from what he keeps in his heart during these times.

He really really really wants a baby. Because he waited so long already for this life. He's angry. He doesn't want any more denial, any hesitating. He blames me for waiting until I was getting hurt before I left Cole. He doesn't want Cole to have had the best part of my life and he feels like he's always going to be second in line.

My god he was so angry. And it's strangely beautiful because he's a quiet angry. He rarely yells. Instead he just stops, much like I do. He thinks instead. He uses his feelings and wrings the life out of them. He makes them into his lessons and then he learns.

Only he confided that this one isn't going away and logically he is so very aware of how difficult this would make everything but he cannot get past it. Even me reminding him that I left Cole for him and that I was here because he's first in my heart brought a look and one word.

Don't.

That pissed me off. I don't deserve that look. And I may quietly get mad and stop talking but sometimes I get a little overwhelmed by all of this. By everything. I yelled at him. He deserves better than me. He really does.

Don't WHAT Jake? Don't remind you that I was married? Shit happens. I didn't know you. I didn't know how my life was going to turn out. I didn't know anything. I can't go back and change it but I don't love him anymore. I love you and now you're telling me it's not enough for you? Well FUCK YOU because it's all I have.

He laughed again because he takes none of my bullshit posturing. Now was not the time to laugh. I started crying. Hi, that's one of my most famous talents. God forbid I bottle anything up ever.

It's enough. It's more than I ever dreamed of, Bridge. I just can't even explain how overwhelming this feeling is.

Which feeling is that Jake? Resentment? Competition? Selfishness?

That's not even close to fair, Bridge. The feeling that I want to be a good lover, a provider, a protector and a dad. I want to be a witness to the miracle from this vantage point. I want a house full of love and laughter and every goddamned cliche out there because you make me so happy and I have wanted nothing more than to make a life with you and we are so blessed right now. And you are the only person in my life I would ever want this gift from.
(I'm sure I visibly swooned.)

Then why can't we wait?

We're 35. The kids are 5 and 6, they won't be close if the baby's too far behind them, I'm afraid we're going to miss our chance and we've already missed so much. No more goddamned waiting, Bridge. Look at everything we've been through in the last ten years.

We haven't missed anything Jake. Life is now.

So let's have one. Let's start living. God doesn't want us to be unhappy. (he might have slurred this slightly).

Oh, pulling out the big guns now, I see.

You know what I mean. You think too much, Bridge.

Are you trying to change me?

No, I'm trying to make you see how I live. How I think, how sometimes beating decisions to death with logic and outcomes does nothing but delay life and life is so short, Bridge. I was starting to feel like you were never going to look at me the way you looked at him.

Oh Jacob I always looked at you the same way. It got me in nothing but trouble.

Right and now you're here. Let's get this show on the road.

You're impossible.

Yeah, well, Bridget, maybe you've changed me.

Does this mean you'll get a tattoo? Or start swearing more?

No. I don't mean that, I mean you make me want to live. To feel everything, good and bad.

Right, can we skip the bad for a bit?

Okay then, only joy. (geez, he is drunk.)

Okay, only joy.

Okay. So what's the plan?

The plan is let's stop using the stupid diaphragm and see what God has in store for us.
The look on his face washed away any doubts I carried. The only thing I can compare it to is the look on someone's face when you have just informed them that they've won a hundred million dollars. Tax-free. I really doubted he'd remember any of this the next day, but he most certainly did.

Update and stop phoning me.

Oh for crying out loud. No. I am not pregnant.

And to further prove that fact, I'm opening a bottle of wine. Because it's Friday and I have earned whatever liquid drama I can conjure up tonight.

Because, you know, life just isn't dramatic enough right now.

Hell, I remember an exciting day was when a package came in the mail.

Why, yes, I did start drinking half an hour ago. But I can't have anymore until the kids are asleep.

Cake hangover: regrets and enlightenment.

You know how I always say I can't allow myself regrets because regrets will eat you alive? They serve no purpose other than to inflict pain. They are supposed to teach you things, as if the road not taken might have been the wiser choice and you'll do better next time.

What if there is no next time?

What if the chance is gone? You're too far down the road, there's no more detours, forks or off ramps? You can't and won't go back. But then in the distance you think there's one more shot. One last tour off the beaten path.

I am selfish. That is why. Not selfish? Smart? Dumb? Oddly not allowing myself to get carried away on romance. But I can't resolve this inside my head and neither can he. And getting carried away on romance that very one time in April has permanently marked me as impulsive. The one time I do anything impulsive brands me permanently.

So we struggle together and separately. This one is bigger than we are. I'm afraid it will wind up being the one weak spot in the fabric that makes up Bridget and Jake as a unit.

Oh why does this have to be so hard?

The regret? He..

Christ I'm hyperventilating.

He..(anyone have a paper bag?) He wants me to have his baby.

Don't roll your eyes until you have finished reading. It isn't so simple.

He loves the kids. And he wants one more. He wants a tiny creation of our love. A permanent one, since life is rather fleeting for us and a human being walking around changing the world and loving and living made up of our combined genes would be the ultimate expression of our love for each other.

Besides being possibly the most beautiful specimen of blonde ever to grace the human race, a baby would signal how not to fix a broken life.

It's too romantic, even for me. Aside from the glaring fact that we're still married to other people and will be for a while yet, there's already two kids in the middle of this broken home. And yes Jake loves those kids like they are his. They practically are his (oh no more rumors please) and he has had a big hand in helping raise them from birth and he loves them. But I know. They aren't his. They are another man's children and no matter how you rationalize it, it's not the same and never will be. I know there are step families and adopted families and everything is terrific but right now in the headspace we are in, it isn't the same for the purpose of his argument. And I see that.

I'm selfish. Jacob did not say I was selfish. He knows he wouldn't have to say much to convince me. It would be different this time around. He would be here. Is that enough? We've come so far. The kids are old enough now to brush their teeth when told. To try new foods and walk down the street without me fearing they'll run into the traffic. To have their own money. The baby stage is far far behind us now.

Okay so I am selfish. I have never done pregnant very well. I took diclectin through both pregnancies just so I could get my head up off the floor. Hell, Jacob has held my hair back while I was sick when pregnant, thanks to always arriving at the best times. He's got absolutely no shame. I get huge. I swell up. I wind up on bedrest. I have terrible deliveries with complications. I had PPD after Henry. It was so difficult.

The thought of going through any of that again on purpose ruins me. I can't do that again.

But then I look at this man and I think of having HIS child and I want it very much. For he is 35 years old and would be the best father on the face of this earth.

And bitter Bridget said that once before. How do you move forward when you fear you'll repeat the same mistakes you made before? I don't have faith. I had faith before. I loved Cole so hard I feared I would kill us both with it. We had it all and I'm too bitter to assume that wouldn't happen again because life with Jake is a thousandfold more intense, more beautiful, more loving, more perfect. But what if I wake up? What if he decided tomorrow that he made a mistake? After what he has done in his life on behalf of us I shouldn't be thinking like that but I've had so many surprises I didn't expect in the past few weeks I wouldn't be surprised now to find a beanstalk and a golden goose in the backyard. And a talking donkey from Bremen town for good measure.

Why am I living this life in slow motion? If I went for it every time would I be happier? Having exhausted all forms of life without Jacob I found out that life with him was worth it. Even if all I ever get is this two months of broken happiness it's enough for me and yet once again I'm rigid-Bridget, unwilling to close my eyes and leap because I am all too aware of what happens in life to people who are impulsive, and yet had I been impulsive before now, before 1998, I wouldn't have put the extra 3 people in my life through all this pain. The pain of breaking up one family for another newer one. A younger blonder model. Oh my god I'm a reverse homewrecker and this is my midlife crisis.

Wait, Jake is my full-on adultlife crisis, if given the decade of chemisty. But he's not and that's a stupid label. He looked at me in that coffee shop in 1997 and told me he wished I wasn't married. I should have gone back to his apartment that day and slept with him, then told Cole, and then gotten a quickie divorce. But that's a regret. And if I had done that I wouldn't have Ruth or Henry today and I wouldn't change that.

So now what?

Does Bridget squeeze her eyes shut and jump and hope she's safely in the deep end or does Bridget hold to her guns and demand that life not get any more complicated. knowing it will quietly break his heart like it has twice before, because he watched me bring home two babies already and wished that they were his. The laws of the universe that make it so there are two tiny recreations of the life of Bridget and Cole running around and none of Jacob and Bridget, which Jacob secretly sees as the penultimate expression of his love for me, are riddled with ironicies aren't they?

And that, my friends, is regret.

And it's a regret with a ticking time clock, he wants a baby now. After waiting so long to be together there's a renewed sense of urgency, a need to find and exert some sort of control over our circumstances, a need to place a permanent marker in our history together. Which is the sweetest thing in the entire world to me, when he puts it that way. But it's still a phenomenal task. With huge risks. But life is a risk, right?

I know all I have to do is say I can't and he'll let it go. And I will always have to look him in the eyes and know that I denied him the one thing in life that he ever wanted besides me, or because of me. Not sure if I can do that. What gives me the right to do that?

And this entry will give him my side. Not because I am that passive/agressive that I would use this space to argue my position on a huge subject but because he reads this daily and I write a lot more eloquently than I talk and somehow even without expression or tone I can make my thoughts known. Or without interruption even. He doesn't interrupt though, he sits and waits a few beats and then counters. But this is fresh from the inside of my head, and my heart. The edited version doesn't hold the clarity I have through writing it down. We have talked about this into the early morning light too many nights.

And he doesn't want to waste another minute. He said I have brought him to his knees once again.

And I just might have written all this out and wound up talking myself into it. Lovely.

I need to go lie down.

Cake.

Our favorite kid books these days are all about Edith. Edith is the lonely doll, from the series by Dare Wright, which has been around since I was a little girl. Ruth loves Edith, and Henry loves the pictures. We never get tired of Edith's predicaments, nor do we tire of her petulance. When I was a kid she made it somewhat fashionable to be a scowling, pigtailed brat. Because it was cute. It got results.

Of course when you grow up and you continue to get the petulant label attached to your bad mood you quickly learn that no one takes you very seriously at all. The results are not quite what you're looking for, ever. But sometimes the resolution is surprising and wonderful. Such is my life. Life as a doll.

When I don't get taken seriously I go from petulant to insolent in about half an hour. It's not an easy transition and it's a tough hole to climb out of. Jacob saw it coming a mile away. This is where being a good friend has come in handy for him over the years, for he understands where my mind is going and how to lure it back.

He woke me up at midnight with warm chocolate cake. Cake and Irish hot chocolate. Cake in bed for me is like how most women feel about buying cute new shoes. I love cake.

We shared the cake and he offered a day, probably Monday, to look forward to, in which we would do nothing but take the kids to the lake for a picnic. Just the 4 of us. And that I did need more sleep and he just...well he just was worried. He traced his finger across my forehead and tucked my too-long bangs behind my ear and commented that I never wear earring anymore.

I pointed out that he didn't need to be so worried about my earrings. They're in an Altoids tin in my jewelry box. I just usually don't bother with them. In case he swallows one.

He laughed again. With cake in his teeth. I laughed too when I saw that. And the rest of the cake rolled off the plate halfway across the bed. He picked it up with one hand and threatened to throw it at me.

Oh it's on now.

I am so bad. Under the guise of being injured (find that silver lining Bridget) I asked him to cool it and I kneeled against him and asked for a kiss. Who's not going to oblige a kiss right then? Especially when I looked oh so stupid in a camisole, underwear, bedhead and cake? What an ensemble! I should go out like that.

He closed his eyes and was giving me one of his earth-tilting kisses, and I pulled back and grabbed his hand, smushing it into his nose. The hand that was holding the cake.

Those sheets will never be the same. He had cake in his ear. I possibly had cake in places I can't talk about in public.

We made amends in the shower.

Which brings me back to needing sleep, because we had to change the sheets in the middle of the night.

Did I mention I love cake?

There she is.

It's muggy-muggy today!

Reminds me of Ayaka's English Lessons, when she teaches Rika Ishikawa how to say it's a very humid day. We spent weeks once walking around imitating her "It's very muggy muggy!" It was cute.

Well it's humid. I went from wishing it wasn't -27 to wishing it wasn't +27. Why can't it just be 20 all year around? But with seasons. Please?

I got out all the fans and to think 2 nights ago I turned on the electric blanket because the sheets were so cold. I went out and got a pizza for dinner since the house is an oven anyway. I'm not cooking. I don't feel like barbecueing. I don't feel like defrosting anything big either. I'm surrounded by food here.

I actually feel really self destructive these days. It's supposed to be part of the 'process'. I don't want to be part of the process. I want to be away from the process and back to being me again.

Bless my proactive Jake, he's always trying to keep me on track. He makes me eat (did I mention I don't eat sometimes? I'll make sure everyone else does, and I'll skip seven meals and almost pass out in the shower because I don't pay attention. That went over really well, let me tell you). He makes me go to the dumb physical therapy. He takes me to the counselor. I think I would have ditched all of it by now. A week of nothing but appointments and running around and it's too fast for me. I need time to process things. He likes them dealt with and gone so happy life resumes. He's desperate for me to be happy, and not scared. Oh God, is that not the greatest thing in the world?

He got my spinning wheel out and put it in the front hall near the living room. And put all my fiber in a big basket beside it. For when the sling is gone and I feel like spinning.

He has rounded up the most motley bunch of babysitters, chauffeurs and entertainment a girl could ever wish for. Again, I love everyone but I'm such an introvert. I want to sleep. He figures if I sleep too much I will withdraw. He gets despondent when I withdraw and yet I need it so bad. I won't withdraw from him, from the kids, just from the rest of the world.

Maybe he'll read this. I can't even explain how I feel but I'm done with all this 'healing'. I'd like to wallow instead. Just for a bit.

And post-traumatic stress is a bitch. A really nasty bitch. When I see someone move out of the corner of my eye I jump fifty feet. I was running the bath for the kids last night and I turned off the water 4 times to listen. To listen for what? The kids were in the bathroom, I locked the door behind us. Jake was downstairs. Dumb. Really dumb.

I think I found myself today. That or the crazy girl came back from the circus.

Okay, meet the rest of my family.

Wednesdays sometimes bring two posts, maybe three if you missed a few days.

It's out! The new Ghost Rider trailer if you've been patiently waiting for it as long as I have.

And now some blog business. Try to keep up, or at least pretend to. I won't tell.

If you've been with me for a while you know that Trey's name isn't really Trey. Bunny is my 5 yr old son and Birdie is my 6 yr old daughter. Right, except those were nicknames. Of course. Trey was C, who got his nickname when he got glasses and grew a beard and morphed into Trey Anastasio, from Phish, one of my favorite jam bands and the only music that would ever put Henry (bunny) to sleep.

So C is Cole. If you ever meet him and he shows you pictures of his beautiful blonde kids, and they look like twins but they're not, run. He is charming, but Just go.

Birdie is Ruth. Bunny is Henry. Ruth and Henry are my life and they are the two best things to ever come out of this mess that is my life. And I hated going back and changing names when I was done writing. Everyone else on the internet uses real names, for cryin' out loud. Everyone I know is tuning in to this like a soap opera anyhow.

Bridget and Jacob are our real names, but that was already shared info. You'll meet my friends as we go. Hi. Meet my crazy universe. Let's continue.

One-man show.

Today's solitary culinary karaoke is brought to you by James Blunt.

No, he wasn't singing Beautiful. But that's funny because that's what everyone would assume. Oh internet, you know us too well sometimes.

Jake was singing Wisemen. And cooking grilled cheese and french fries. And mixing up the words excruciatingly.

It's not:

Look who's in love now,
It's on me. It's on me.
Those three Wise Men,
They've got a city by the sea.

it's:

Look who's alone now,
It's not me. It's not me.
Those three Wise Men,
They've got a semi by the sea.

Me? No, I won't correct him, I just take movies of him singing and threaten to post them on the internet. Some Youtubage extortion in exchange for a plate of food? I tried.

James Blunt? I know. I'm just happy he finally stopped playing Xavier Rudd. While Xav is great and all it became a steady diet over the weekend and I can't pull CDs off the pile with one hand. The stack is too tall and all the good ones seem to be at the bottom. I'm at the mercy of a madman here. An impossibly cute madman who really loves cheesy love songs to go with a cheesy dinner.

My evil plot is to get him to sing along to any of my Switchfoot CDs because that would be way neat-o.

Got to ask yourself the question,
Where are you now?

How we met, or the longest post in the universe.

This took a long time to write out. How to give people just enough of an idea of how we met without writing down every single detail. Well, here's most of it. Take it or leave it. Go have a nap in the middle of it. It's very long and very difficult but maybe it explains a lot. Or not.

The summer of 1997 I was 26 years old. I had a car, a husband of 4 years and a cat, a nice big flat near the beach and a bunch of cool friends, friends since I was about 7, friends whose parents had cottages up and down the east coast. Some on lakes, some on the beach. I worked days at a bank, Trey worked nights and weekends. Hey, we never saw each other but we were hard workers, saving for a house, a family, everything we ever wanted. I wasn't going to sit home on the long weekends and miss out. But I wasn't dumb either. I stayed with my girfriends (in groups no less) and rarely drank, and never was alone with a guy who wasn't Trey.

Not like I could. No one messed with his wife. Trey was the badass of the group. I was the barbie doll. Or something, I'm trying to give you the visual. Think very low maintenance barbie. Please? Tomboy Barbie.

So one weekend I drove up to the beach late. I was working overtime and I was so tired. But I wanted to get there and beat the Saturday traffic. I arrived at my friends' cottage around 9:30. The party was in full swing, there were so many people I didn't know. I grabbed a vodka cooler that was passed out to me and I said my hellos. The cooler hit a bit harder than I expected so I went down to the water, to the hammock that I loved to hang out in.

There was a guy already sitting in it. Rocking slowly. Holding a beer. It was very dark. I asked him if I could have a turn in the hammock because I had just driven out from the city and I was zonked.

He said he really didn't want to go back up to the house but he would make room if I wanted to share it.

I rolled my eyes to no avail, since it was dark and told the guy that I wasn't interested. Because, oh my god I was so tired. Just get out.

He laughed and asked me what wasn't I interested in.

Someone finally flicked on the patio lights right then. They were strung all the way around the property.

My god, what a good-looking man. He sat there grinning at me, enjoying his beer and his peace and quiet. I swayed a bit on my feet and he jumped up and took my arm and helped me crawl into the hammock. After a couple of minutes of trying to sit properly together he gave up and put his arm around me. He was about 5 inches from my face, and cute as he was, I was annoyed and I tried to push him out, I really didn't feel good and I was married. He said he really was harmless and that I looked really pale. I slurred something to the effect that I have a much-sought-after alabaster Irish complexion and then I promptly passed out cold.

The next morning I woke up with a killer headache. I was still in the hammock, still in the arms of this guy, who was asleep with his face buried in my neck, our arms wrapped around each other. His jacket was over me. I didn't really remember him. I think I flipped out right around then. My friends were calling out and running down the path.

I fell out of the hammock and then, so did he. Everyone was yelling. They thought I had been kidnapped. They found out one of the guys had put roofies in a bunch of the coolers the girls had. He admitted it after they left out of guilt. Then when they were trying to round up and pour out all the opened bottles no one could find me. They couldn't see me in the hammock because of the man and his coat.

Okay, this is looking good. Trey is on his way, everyone is flipping out.

We finally calmed down. Jacob introduced himself. He was the older brother of one of the girls, who had dragged him with her for a designated driver but then she didn't want to leave after all so he was hanging out, avoiding the party because he's not really a partier-type. When I stumbled down to the water he thought I was very very drunk and he was going to suggest I cool off and sit down but then I passed out and he didn't want to leave me alone in case I drowned or an equally drunk guy found me and raped me or something.

I wanted to go to the emergency room, drugs really freak me out and I couldn't really wake up. I sat back down. I wanted to wait for Trey though. Jacob put his coat back around my shoulders and sat with his arm around me for support. Everyone else was busy planning to kill the guy who had brought the drugs without getting the police involved. Why I will never know.

Trey finally arrived and at first he thought Jacob had given me drugs. Once he established that Jacob was looking out for me he apologized and then he took me back home. I think I slept the rest of that long weekend. I slept in Jacob's coat.

Friday morning Jacob called the flat. His younger sister gave him my number. He wanted to see how I was doing, and also could he get his coat back? It was a favorite. He asked if I would meet him at a coffee shop near the university that weekend. Sure, he had to have his coat.

When I got there he had on that grin again. He bought me a coffee and I gave him his coat and I formally introduced myself. We talked about what we both did, and to my surprise Jacob told me he was starting school again, taking his masters in divinity. Okay Bridget, good move then to pass out in the arms of a potential minister. I apologized for my behavior the night of the party and he reminded me I had been drugged and there was nothing to apologize for.

Then he said he really wished I wasn't married.

Oh man, did he have to say that? I briefly wished I wasn't too. Honestly I did. But I started to gather up my coat and bag to leave. He stood up and grabbed my hand, and he said he was sorry he said that but he hadn't stopped thinking about me all week but that he could respect my circumstances. I told him he had to stop right there, I wasn't interested in him, I was married. For a long time, and besides, we were trying to start a family.

Then he asked if he could just be my friend. We had the same friends in common, we were the same age and we shared some sort of connection he couldn't articulate. He was completely right. I said he couldn't do it and that if he was just going to lust after me then forget it. My husband would kill him. He laughed again. Oh what a great laugh. He said he could do it and that God had brought me into his life. I reminded him God brought him into my life and he said we were even.

I didn't see him again for almost a year. He didn't call, out of respect or being busy and I didn't know his number. Life went on. I thought about him every now and then, wondering how such a cute guy could want to be a minister. Sometimes I thought that's why he was so cute-God rewards people who believe in Him by making them very good looking.

Early in December I attended a cocktail reception at a gallery. I was newly pregnant, very newly pregnant, sick as a dog and trying to put on a face for an hour or so to support my friend's show. I went outside on the balcony at the gallery and tried to quell the nausea. Someone stuck a bottled water under my nose.

Care for a drink? Still sealed?

I knew that voice. I think the grin split my face in half before my eyes made it to his face. It was Jacob.

Hi Bridget. His eyes twinkled. Oh dear god. I took the water and opened it and drank some. Then I said Hi Jacob. Nice to see you again.

We grinned. Deja vu, I wavered again. Dizzy. Nauseous.

Then he asked me if I was okay. We laughed and I said no, but this time being sick was a happy occasion. I was pregnant! He gave me a very nice proper hug and said congratulations. I asked him how his studies were going and we chatted for a couple of hours. I finally left and he walked me to my car and I remember holding his arm so I didn't wipe out on the ice. He said he hoped he'd see me before another year passed because so much would change for me in the next year. I asked if he was going to the annual Christmas party thrown by friends who do a huge huge party. He said he was, so I said we would see him then.

The party never took place. Instead the next time I saw Jacob was at the hospital. My best friend stopped taking her insulin. She fell into a diabetic coma and died. I drove for an hour through a blizzard to get to the hospital and I didn't make it in time to say goodbye. Christmas was a week away. She was supposed to be at my baby's birth next summer. I was so angry. I never saw it coming. She had stopped taking her insulin.

I spent the night sitting in the family room with Jacob. I couldn't leave, I wasn't in any condition to drive and the roads were scary anyway. Our other friends drifted away out of shock, grief. A group went down to the chapel. I thought Jacob would go but he sat back and put his arm around me and didn't say a word. I didn't say a word. We sat there and stared at the wall for hours. I didn't cry, I just sat. He somehow just knew not to talk. When the sun came up I asked him if he would pray with me. If he would lead, because I wanted it out loud.

He said the most beautiful prayer that day. I can't remember a word of it.

And after that he stepped in and became a best friend. Not to replace the one I lost or anything, but it just happened. Because God put him here to watch over me. And he has.

Touch.

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.

Pickles

Last night Jake and bunny were sitting out in the backyard on the step sharing a sandwich. Jake only made it back a few moments before bedtime and he always takes some time to give both kids his separate, undivided attention each day. He had a ham sandwich with pickles, and when bunny found out he begged Jake just to give up the pickles and let bunny eat them all. Jake complied and they enjoyed their time.

When they came back in Jake remarked again how surprised he is that bunny loves spicy things. He says that every time. We didn't think bunny would ever tolerate spicy foods.

It is a wonder, for when bunny was born, he had what the doctors all said was colic. He cried all the time. I knew it wasn't colic, colic doesn't affect a baby every minute of the day. When he was born Trey was carrying on with a coworker. He came home late, or not at all. I had post partum depression. I was stressed out. I had an almost two year old and a one month old baby and a wayward husband and I thought that was the end of the world. It was all I could do just to get through each single day.

One night I thought I couldn't make it at all. Bunny had been crying for probably 3 days straight, when he was awake. When he was asleep I tried to run around doing laundry, cleaning, cooking, anything because when he was awake all I did was rock him and try to keep birdie happy. I hadn't slept in over a week and I was half out of my mind. I called Trey and told him I needed him to come home on time after work, that I couldn't do it. He hung up on me.

I sat down on the floor in the hallway with both kids and cried. We were all crying. Then there was a knock at the door. It was Jacob, stopping by to say hello on his way home. He loved to stop in and see us and play with the kids when he had time. He opened the door and looked at us. I was standing there with a baby in each arm and tears running down my face and I couldn't even talk.

He came right in, got birdie bathed and down for the night and walked around with bunny lying full out on his forearm while he rubbed his back. He called a friend and had him drop off take out and diapers. He did laundry. He made another appointment for the next day at the doctors for bunny and then he held us both until we fell asleep.

I got up around 3 am when bunny woke up to be fed. I could hear Jake quietly arguing on the phone. Which meant Trey didn't come home at all.

I came out into the living room with bunny to fed him and change him just in time to hear Jacob say You have everything in the world right here. I would kill for this to be my family, for Bridget to be my wife and you're throwing it all away. You have everything, man.

Then he turned around and saw me.

He hung up the phone. And he came over and took the baby and told me to go back to sleep. He would feed bunny and put him back down, and he told me we were everything and all I had to do was say the word and we could go with him.

Oh my fucking God, I was so stubborn then.

Jacob went with us to the pediatrician the next morning and bunny started taking medication for reflux and he stopped crying at last. I pulled myself together, determined to get through this life that I had made. I was going to be more than responsible and become a martyr to make up for the absence of my husband. I told Jake I was okay and it was just a really long week and things weren't so bad.

I stood there and shook and lied through my teeth to him and he knew it. He gave me a bitter smile and said I didn't have to live like this. He begged me not to live like this. He put his arms around me and the baby and held us and I almost wavered. Almost. No one hugs me like that. Just Jacob. I had known him for 4 years by then.

He left but that was the beginning of our friendship moving into something stronger, because he became my protector. And we had that stupid conversation probably twice more before I finally did leave Trey.

It's a strange life when pickles can evoke such bittersweet memories.