I'm ready to roll, but I really need a little help with one final thing. Please god, if you're in a commenting mood, help me out?
Is it cool or not cool to bring the pregnancy test to the restaurant? Because two lines tells me this would be a very very wonderful surprise but then a tiny voice is saying it's a little gross to put a stick that you peed on in your purse and take it to a place where people are trying to have dinner.
Not that I'm really interested in the replies.
Two.
Two.
One two.
Lines.
Oh my God.
Tuesday, 19 September 2006
The angel of shredded wheat.
In the interest of not being difficult all the time and wanting to make life easier for my heartbreakingly beautiful husband and my children that I have come to appreciate more than you'd ever know, because I hardly ever see them anymore, I found a way to pay Jacob back for his romantic evening and honor 45 whole days married.
Oh yes I did.
I have an appointment today. To give the hearing aids a real chance. I made it weeks ago. I can keep secrets too, Reverend Firefighter man.
Some might say that this is for me. But it isn't. This is something Jacob has wanted me to do since the night he found out I couldn't hear him very well. It's something he brings up regularly and it's become a sticking point from which most arguments originate. I am so stubborn.
One of the reasons I changed my mind was because I was one hundred percent convinced that last month my daughter told me she wanted to be the Angel of Shredded Wheat for Halloween. It was the funniest thing ever. We laughed for almost an hour.
She, in fact, wanted to be an angel with shredded wings, because they had a huge pair at the costume store and she fell in love with them. (You'd have to see them to believe it, they're so cool looking.)
What else did I miss in my bullheadedness?
This is not small potatoes. These hearing aids cost thousands and I need two. They cost so much because they are supposed to help me differentiate between what I need to hear and the inconsequential but usually overwhelming background noise. Digital even. High-fucking-tech. I was warned I will be just as exhausted while I get used to them as I was without them, attempting to later dissect the words, tossed out in the cacophony of my environment like so much fluff blown from a dandelion. Chaos. Total chaos.
We all know how I love to sit and rearrange the words in my brain. To the point where I fail to pay attention to much else at all sometimes. Missing wings and shredded wheat.
My plan is to fib and tell him I'm helping in the afternoon today at the school. I made a reservation at a great restaurant for tonight and have sworn the kids to secrecy. I'm going to wear my new hearing aids to the restaurant and see how long it takes for him to notice. They're subtle but I might not be. I have a new red dress that would knock you flat. Just to throw him off.
But so help me, if he even once speaks to me without touching my chin, or holding my face in two hands, or fails to kiss his nose to my nose and look into my eyes when he's talking like he does now so I don't miss things, I swear I'll rip them out and drop them right in the dishwater.
Wish me luck!
Oh yes I did.
I have an appointment today. To give the hearing aids a real chance. I made it weeks ago. I can keep secrets too, Reverend Firefighter man.
Some might say that this is for me. But it isn't. This is something Jacob has wanted me to do since the night he found out I couldn't hear him very well. It's something he brings up regularly and it's become a sticking point from which most arguments originate. I am so stubborn.
One of the reasons I changed my mind was because I was one hundred percent convinced that last month my daughter told me she wanted to be the Angel of Shredded Wheat for Halloween. It was the funniest thing ever. We laughed for almost an hour.
She, in fact, wanted to be an angel with shredded wings, because they had a huge pair at the costume store and she fell in love with them. (You'd have to see them to believe it, they're so cool looking.)
What else did I miss in my bullheadedness?
This is not small potatoes. These hearing aids cost thousands and I need two. They cost so much because they are supposed to help me differentiate between what I need to hear and the inconsequential but usually overwhelming background noise. Digital even. High-fucking-tech. I was warned I will be just as exhausted while I get used to them as I was without them, attempting to later dissect the words, tossed out in the cacophony of my environment like so much fluff blown from a dandelion. Chaos. Total chaos.
We all know how I love to sit and rearrange the words in my brain. To the point where I fail to pay attention to much else at all sometimes. Missing wings and shredded wheat.
My plan is to fib and tell him I'm helping in the afternoon today at the school. I made a reservation at a great restaurant for tonight and have sworn the kids to secrecy. I'm going to wear my new hearing aids to the restaurant and see how long it takes for him to notice. They're subtle but I might not be. I have a new red dress that would knock you flat. Just to throw him off.
But so help me, if he even once speaks to me without touching my chin, or holding my face in two hands, or fails to kiss his nose to my nose and look into my eyes when he's talking like he does now so I don't miss things, I swear I'll rip them out and drop them right in the dishwater.
Wish me luck!
Monday, 18 September 2006
Sleep for sale.
Control/Freak.
A text message from Ben last night before I finally banned him from my phone. Nice. And now I have more emotions flying out in a haze of confusion and I grab them and try to stuff them back inside, and I fail.
This is so fucking painful, arguing with Jacob, and yet when we're not up to our ears in the greatest romance of the century, we're waging the war of the roses, snapping at each other through gritted teeth, usually with me biting my lip and attempting not to let the tears spill out while he throws up his hands in frustration, shirtsleeves rolled up because I am the most complicated part of his life and he has to wade right in. You pay a price for everything, eventually. No happy mediums in Bridget's world.
I wouldn't have it any other way, you know.
Jake makes me so crazy.
But hey, aren't you happy to hear that we're normal? That it isn't a perfect fairytale? That we still have bickering moments and neverending arguments and outrageous, bitter, devastating verbal exchanges that leave me reeling, and wondering what the hell I'm doing here, and maybe he doesn't love me in the way that he's supposed to and maybe trying to turn my relationship with him into something more was a colossal error on all counts.
I bet you are.
Those thoughts are heartbreaking, you know. I don't linger there.
And those doubts are the darkest feelings I think I will ever have in this new life as the preacher's wife, let me tell you that for free.
But at the same time I'm permitted now to argue as loud and as excruciatingly as I can, secure in the knowledge that I wanted this life and I will hang onto it at all costs, because I love this man.
But we still don't argue loudly. Even though my lack of volume prevents being able to make my points clearly even if I could speak normally I'd remain within kissing distance and I don't raise my voice there and neither does he. It's our neutral airspace. And within that airspace he tells me things that bother him that make me want to scream and I bite my words into my cheek and don't say them, that's his rare insecurities speaking and they deserve as much attention as everything that's beautiful in the world.
He's afraid to let me out of his sight. He's afraid something will happen to me.
I remind him that we just came through a similar situation with sending the kids to public school. Everyone has got to let go sometime, right? He says he hasn't had enough time with me yet. All to himself. His. He doesn't have to let go because he doesn't want to.
I remind him, once again, that every time I have been hurt I have been in my own home, which is partially why I'm so fucking messed up. All that did was serve to twist the knife that sticks out of his soul, because he couldn't get to me in time. Shit. Stirring up the guilt he carries deep inside isn't going to serve any purpose right now.
Jake..I'm sorry.
Don't be. You're right.
So...?
So I'm still not supporting the idea.
Why the hell not?
Because I get a warm feeling when I think about coming home to you. You fit me perfectly and if you're not here when I get home I'll miss you. I hate that feeling, Bridget. More than anything.
That's never a bad thing. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know.
If my heart grew any fonder it would simply absorb you.
Geez, you really know how to turn an argument into one of 'those' moments.
What moments?
Those ones that I will never forget.
Yeah, we make a lot of those ones.
Yes, we do.
So you'll stay home?
Nope.
Aw, Bridge, you make me so crazy.
Well, we have lots of those moments too, don't we.
Too many.
Still love me? Even though I'll be working?
Of course I do and no, you won't be.
Argh, I'm too sick to fight with you right now, Jacob.
Let's pick up later then.
Fine.
So why do I feel like no matter how long we spend on this, he's going to win?
Scream to no one
Take your time
Sing it louder
Twist and shout
Nothing to run from is worse than something
And all your fears of nothing
And they're swimming around again, again
And they're swimming around
The concrete girl
A text message from Ben last night before I finally banned him from my phone. Nice. And now I have more emotions flying out in a haze of confusion and I grab them and try to stuff them back inside, and I fail.
This is so fucking painful, arguing with Jacob, and yet when we're not up to our ears in the greatest romance of the century, we're waging the war of the roses, snapping at each other through gritted teeth, usually with me biting my lip and attempting not to let the tears spill out while he throws up his hands in frustration, shirtsleeves rolled up because I am the most complicated part of his life and he has to wade right in. You pay a price for everything, eventually. No happy mediums in Bridget's world.
I wouldn't have it any other way, you know.
Jake makes me so crazy.
But hey, aren't you happy to hear that we're normal? That it isn't a perfect fairytale? That we still have bickering moments and neverending arguments and outrageous, bitter, devastating verbal exchanges that leave me reeling, and wondering what the hell I'm doing here, and maybe he doesn't love me in the way that he's supposed to and maybe trying to turn my relationship with him into something more was a colossal error on all counts.
I bet you are.
Those thoughts are heartbreaking, you know. I don't linger there.
And those doubts are the darkest feelings I think I will ever have in this new life as the preacher's wife, let me tell you that for free.
But at the same time I'm permitted now to argue as loud and as excruciatingly as I can, secure in the knowledge that I wanted this life and I will hang onto it at all costs, because I love this man.
But we still don't argue loudly. Even though my lack of volume prevents being able to make my points clearly even if I could speak normally I'd remain within kissing distance and I don't raise my voice there and neither does he. It's our neutral airspace. And within that airspace he tells me things that bother him that make me want to scream and I bite my words into my cheek and don't say them, that's his rare insecurities speaking and they deserve as much attention as everything that's beautiful in the world.
He's afraid to let me out of his sight. He's afraid something will happen to me.
I remind him that we just came through a similar situation with sending the kids to public school. Everyone has got to let go sometime, right? He says he hasn't had enough time with me yet. All to himself. His. He doesn't have to let go because he doesn't want to.
I remind him, once again, that every time I have been hurt I have been in my own home, which is partially why I'm so fucking messed up. All that did was serve to twist the knife that sticks out of his soul, because he couldn't get to me in time. Shit. Stirring up the guilt he carries deep inside isn't going to serve any purpose right now.
Jake..I'm sorry.
Don't be. You're right.
So...?
So I'm still not supporting the idea.
Why the hell not?
Because I get a warm feeling when I think about coming home to you. You fit me perfectly and if you're not here when I get home I'll miss you. I hate that feeling, Bridget. More than anything.
That's never a bad thing. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know.
If my heart grew any fonder it would simply absorb you.
Geez, you really know how to turn an argument into one of 'those' moments.
What moments?
Those ones that I will never forget.
Yeah, we make a lot of those ones.
Yes, we do.
So you'll stay home?
Nope.
Aw, Bridge, you make me so crazy.
Well, we have lots of those moments too, don't we.
Too many.
Still love me? Even though I'll be working?
Of course I do and no, you won't be.
Argh, I'm too sick to fight with you right now, Jacob.
Let's pick up later then.
Fine.
So why do I feel like no matter how long we spend on this, he's going to win?
Scream to no one
Take your time
Sing it louder
Twist and shout
Nothing to run from is worse than something
And all your fears of nothing
And they're swimming around again, again
And they're swimming around
The concrete girl
Sunday, 17 September 2006
Fire with fire.
What a quiet, frustrating little way to have an argument. I remain voiceless. Silent and unable to make my points adequately. Which means he'll win by default. It's not fair.
Several weeks ago I dropped Jacob off downtown to have some tests. Standard, part of a physical, I assumed it was required because he had changed his health insurance to include us a while back. Paperwork, no big deal.
He lied to me. Well, not so much an outright lie as when I asked if that was what it was for he didn't correct me and that wasn't the reason. Lies by omission are just as deceitful.
It was a standard physical so that he can become a volunteer firefighter. A paid on-call one. Whatever. I'm not listening right now.
This became part of an argument wrapped in a second outrage because I'm not 'allowed' to get a job. I wanted to work a few nights a week or Saturdays at the bookstore near our house. It's a two level bookstore with a built-in coffee shop. Would that be heaven or what?
But no, Jacob thinks I do enough.
Plus if I'm working on the weekends what about church? Or his evening counseling? I didn't want a forty hour a week job, maybe two nights, maybe one shift a week. He doesn't want to give up any of our free time spent together but at the same time he signs up for something that requires him and his giant truck to be on call during our free time together. A potentially dangerous job. A job he wants to take without even discussing it with me first.
So last night we indulged in a rip-roaring, squeaky, phlegmy, razor-whispered drag-out verbal war because I don't want him to work more, I wanted to help out.
And it's so lovely that he wants me to continue to play the sweet little housewife role, always here, the center of my family's universe. It's also plainly obvious that he conveniently forgot about me being one half of his equation now and went and did something because he lived on his own a little too long and is used to just doing what he wants to or feels he needs to do.
I'll give him the admirable part that he'd even consider it. They need people. Very badly. He's overqualified, a wall of strength with the body of a twenty year old.
But I don't want them to have him. I don't want him going into burning buildings, and getting calls in the middle of the night to race off to dangerous situations. I wanted to work at a shop where I would bring home a pittance after taxes and get a discount on all the books we buy. I wanted to have a little of my own money, something I haven't had in years. The last thing I bought that I earned myself free and clear was a $150 watch that I'm still wearing. I bought it in 1990. I'd really love a new watch. Not a heroic husband. He's already a hero in my eyes, in the eyes of everyone. My job would cover the family health insurance and he wouldn't have to depend on a stipend. Why can't I take this weight, for once?
But he's as stubborn as I am and so the fight goes on. And he's winning, because my voice still hasn't returned. And when he holds my face and promises me that nothing will happen to him it's really hard to argue with him anyways.
Those blue eyes are just a little too phenomenal, it's difficult to look away.
Several weeks ago I dropped Jacob off downtown to have some tests. Standard, part of a physical, I assumed it was required because he had changed his health insurance to include us a while back. Paperwork, no big deal.
He lied to me. Well, not so much an outright lie as when I asked if that was what it was for he didn't correct me and that wasn't the reason. Lies by omission are just as deceitful.
It was a standard physical so that he can become a volunteer firefighter. A paid on-call one. Whatever. I'm not listening right now.
This became part of an argument wrapped in a second outrage because I'm not 'allowed' to get a job. I wanted to work a few nights a week or Saturdays at the bookstore near our house. It's a two level bookstore with a built-in coffee shop. Would that be heaven or what?
But no, Jacob thinks I do enough.
Plus if I'm working on the weekends what about church? Or his evening counseling? I didn't want a forty hour a week job, maybe two nights, maybe one shift a week. He doesn't want to give up any of our free time spent together but at the same time he signs up for something that requires him and his giant truck to be on call during our free time together. A potentially dangerous job. A job he wants to take without even discussing it with me first.
So last night we indulged in a rip-roaring, squeaky, phlegmy, razor-whispered drag-out verbal war because I don't want him to work more, I wanted to help out.
And it's so lovely that he wants me to continue to play the sweet little housewife role, always here, the center of my family's universe. It's also plainly obvious that he conveniently forgot about me being one half of his equation now and went and did something because he lived on his own a little too long and is used to just doing what he wants to or feels he needs to do.
I'll give him the admirable part that he'd even consider it. They need people. Very badly. He's overqualified, a wall of strength with the body of a twenty year old.
But I don't want them to have him. I don't want him going into burning buildings, and getting calls in the middle of the night to race off to dangerous situations. I wanted to work at a shop where I would bring home a pittance after taxes and get a discount on all the books we buy. I wanted to have a little of my own money, something I haven't had in years. The last thing I bought that I earned myself free and clear was a $150 watch that I'm still wearing. I bought it in 1990. I'd really love a new watch. Not a heroic husband. He's already a hero in my eyes, in the eyes of everyone. My job would cover the family health insurance and he wouldn't have to depend on a stipend. Why can't I take this weight, for once?
But he's as stubborn as I am and so the fight goes on. And he's winning, because my voice still hasn't returned. And when he holds my face and promises me that nothing will happen to him it's really hard to argue with him anyways.
Those blue eyes are just a little too phenomenal, it's difficult to look away.
Saturday, 16 September 2006
Feeling it.
The whole world is breathing a collective sigh of relief. I have lost my voice. I'm used to talking all the time. Add it to the complete and total deafness brought on by this cold and it's as if I'm now standing on the outside of the world looking in through shrouded glass, unable to add my thoughts and unable to grasp the thoughts of others.
My arms feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. My head, a thousand.
But it's okay. I'm being spoiled. Very tenderly.
Last night Jacob brought home the new John Mayer CD, and put on Gravity. Very loud. I felt it resonating through my blood. And he danced with me. As long as I felt well enough to stand, he danced with me.
My arms feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. My head, a thousand.
But it's okay. I'm being spoiled. Very tenderly.
Last night Jacob brought home the new John Mayer CD, and put on Gravity. Very loud. I felt it resonating through my blood. And he danced with me. As long as I felt well enough to stand, he danced with me.
Friday, 15 September 2006
When Father's Day came early.
It's a beautiful day. The whole Reilly household is jumping for joy.
The order of adoption has been granted. This gives Jacob full legal and parental rights for Ruth and Henry. They are his, in the eyes of the law. Ours, at last.
A small and huge gesture all at once. He's a dad. Finally.
And as a second gesture we've been talking at length and have decided not to change their last name, even though we no longer match. Jacob and I have his, and the kids are keeping Cole's last name, because they are part of him too. Something that is important to have, because they knew and loved Cole in a way that is completely separate from my life with Cole and I'm not going to take that away from them.
I'm trying to be a good mother, I really am.
Jacob is anxious to share the news with his family and his congregation too. The excitement is unreal. I think he's happier about this than he was about our engagement and wedding. Which is fine by me because the kids and I are a package deal.
Today is not significant as far as actions go, however. Jacob has been nothing but a wonderful dad already. We haven't made it easy for him but you'd never know it by watching him.
That is what I'm celebrating.
The order of adoption has been granted. This gives Jacob full legal and parental rights for Ruth and Henry. They are his, in the eyes of the law. Ours, at last.
A small and huge gesture all at once. He's a dad. Finally.
And as a second gesture we've been talking at length and have decided not to change their last name, even though we no longer match. Jacob and I have his, and the kids are keeping Cole's last name, because they are part of him too. Something that is important to have, because they knew and loved Cole in a way that is completely separate from my life with Cole and I'm not going to take that away from them.
I'm trying to be a good mother, I really am.
Jacob is anxious to share the news with his family and his congregation too. The excitement is unreal. I think he's happier about this than he was about our engagement and wedding. Which is fine by me because the kids and I are a package deal.
Today is not significant as far as actions go, however. Jacob has been nothing but a wonderful dad already. We haven't made it easy for him but you'd never know it by watching him.
That is what I'm celebrating.
Thursday, 14 September 2006
New underpinnings.
A funny for your Thursday afternoon:
I was surfing (god, I'm so embarrassed) Hot Topic for...lingerie. Not because I shop there, I was bored and I was thinking about shopping for some new underclothes. Because the old ones..get old fast and it's been a long time since I've had some new and pretties to wear.
Jacob was slightly yucked-out by the offerings at HT and suggested we go to the mall. We went over (because you know the minister can take evenings off to lingerie shop with his sick wife. Exactly!) and I was musing about how the only store I could think of was La Senza and I never liked La Senza. So we went to the mall directory and looked for others. And we found one.
Called Jacob Lingerie.
I don't think I've ever seen Jake turn that many shades of pink. He's cute when he blushes. And with his approval I bought about $350 worth of fresh underpinnings there.
It's a little weird to have a tag with his name on it on every piece of underwear. No one make the joke about him owning my ass now, please, it's been done.
I was surfing (god, I'm so embarrassed) Hot Topic for...lingerie. Not because I shop there, I was bored and I was thinking about shopping for some new underclothes. Because the old ones..get old fast and it's been a long time since I've had some new and pretties to wear.
Jacob was slightly yucked-out by the offerings at HT and suggested we go to the mall. We went over (because you know the minister can take evenings off to lingerie shop with his sick wife. Exactly!) and I was musing about how the only store I could think of was La Senza and I never liked La Senza. So we went to the mall directory and looked for others. And we found one.
Called Jacob Lingerie.
I don't think I've ever seen Jake turn that many shades of pink. He's cute when he blushes. And with his approval I bought about $350 worth of fresh underpinnings there.
It's a little weird to have a tag with his name on it on every piece of underwear. No one make the joke about him owning my ass now, please, it's been done.
Hold your breath.
She's old enough
She knows enough
She's thrown up
So throw her
Out to me
And I'll treat her like she was mine
Except for a raging case of the pukies I'm feeling better today. Nice to know it's the flu instead of a cold. But who cares? I can almost breathe again.
This morning in therapy we talked about my self-confidence.
Gee, that was so much fun.
I don't have issues with that. My ego is what carries me through. I can still dance on tables and smile at everyone and be falling the fuck apart on the inside.
Claus has pointed out somewhat unhelpfully that doing that (and I know he was trying not to picture me dancing on a table. It's really fun and very bumpy-grindy) has nothing to do with self-confidence and keeps wanting to go back and revisit my abilities to compartmentalize everything so efficiently.
I cut him off today. I didn't want to deal with that. I wanted to hear that I was doing great and that I'm normal and stupid and just like everyone else.
Except way prettier.
Sexier, hell, one of a kind. Keep it coming.
When I left the office I told Jacob I was going to cut off all my hair and dye it black and then I would be taken seriously. He laughed and then looked a little scared.
I wouldn't do that. My famous Brigitte Bardot/ longhaired bedhead is part of my personality. I should insure it or something.
So yes, therapy went unwell, and then I came home and lost my coffee. Which made Jacob smile while he held my hair back. Not because he's a masochist, but because..well..
Nevermind. It's the flu.
Wednesday, 13 September 2006
From the bottom up. I just stuck these ones all together.
7:56
That's it, I'm done for this day.
I haven't felt this sick in a very long time and so I'm calling in my favors early. Off to the tub for me and then I plan to ask for some tea with honey afterward. Jacob is doing his best to spoil me in the little chance he has had to be home today. Give him a big nod of appreciation for looking after his Bridget (as he said on the phone while cancelling all of his evening work for the next two nights) so well. I couldn't ask for more.
Night all.
6:27
It's a charmed life
Innocence wild
Crayola skies for a thousand miles
It's a good life in the happily ever after
Last page of a very last chapter
It's the story of a charmed life
As soon as we can get the kids scrubbed and asleep in their beds, Jacob has promised me a hot bath, which he will run for me, and then join me in it to wash my hair. If you ever saw my bathtub you would know why I wanted this house so badly. It's a cast-iron clawfoot tub, black on the outside with ivory enamel so thick on the inside it shows your reflection. I can swim in it. I won't even touch on what it's like to have a bath with this man, because, well...oh please. It's a fairy tale of epic proportions.
His condition was that I pour the rest of the whiskey down the drain.
That was easy.
4:58, or Jake's home!
Aw, damn. Some moments nothing is better than seeing Jacob pull up out front and come inside with a big bag of spicy beef salad, fried tofu, chicken noodle soup and rice. He's a prince. I hope I can taste this. I can't smell it and that's a shame, because I always stick my head in the paper bag and breathe in the take-out goodness when Jake gets Vietnamese food.
In other news, I'm starting to feel like shit again. That brief euphoric Dayquilfest was such a rip-off.
3:49
The conversation went something like this, with five people involved:
What are you going to be for Halloween, Bridge?
I don't know. Still thinking.
You should go as your alter-ego?
Huh?
Widget.
Yeah, that would be so awesome.
Oh my god.
Doesn't the widget look just like me though?
Uh, sort of, but less...uh...composed.
With bedhead.
Possibly, no, definitely drunk.
Lipgloss smeared across her cheek.
Okay stop.
Mascara running down her face.
Enough, guys.
Holding one high heel because she lost the other.
Missing one earring too.
Oh good one.
Dress unbuttoned but still on.
Dancing by herself in the middle of the room.
Lost little girl.
I don't see how this is funny.
Christ I think I remember that night.
Oh shut up!
Are you done yet?
What night? I think I would remember if I lost one of my shoes.
Do you think so? Because there were times, Bridge...
You could call yourself Ex-Bride of Cole, sort of like Bride of Frankenstein only more fucked up.
Nice.
Okay, I've had enough.
Aw Jake! Come on, we're only kidding.
Just for that we're going as an angel and a devil.
Yay. Who's the devil?
You can be the devil, Bridget.
YES!
That's a good idea too, but I'd like to see the Widget.
I bet you would.
Now do you see why I'm so excited to meet some of the moms at the school? With friends like these..well, I need some new friends.
2:30
Well, I made it through most of the school day, and I finally succumbed to the Dayquil goodness. Since it lasts for around 6 hours it will keep me upright until I can fall into Jack's arms at 8.
Or Jake's.
Whoever catches me first. Of course, Jack only goes so far. What little there is in the bottle I found at the top of the cupboard. Jake keeps going and going, he's like the holy energizer bunny. I don't think I have ever seen him sick and so I suppose kissing him tonight will be a bad idea. He's been kissing me on the forehead lots lately which I don't like because we fall into those parent/child roles (Sort of the way things are with Lochlan) and that's an uncomfortable place for me to be, with him of all people. Seeing as how we continue to lust after each other so mightily, well, that's really weird.
I don't like weird. Freaky, yes. Weird, no.
Coming up next, the biggest laugh of the week. The boys have devised Bridget's ultimate Halloween costume for this coming October 31. I thought it was hilarious too. Jake? Uh...not so much.
God, I feel like total shit right now. How long does the Nyquil take to kick in?
That's it, I'm done for this day.
I haven't felt this sick in a very long time and so I'm calling in my favors early. Off to the tub for me and then I plan to ask for some tea with honey afterward. Jacob is doing his best to spoil me in the little chance he has had to be home today. Give him a big nod of appreciation for looking after his Bridget (as he said on the phone while cancelling all of his evening work for the next two nights) so well. I couldn't ask for more.
Night all.
6:27
It's a charmed life
Innocence wild
Crayola skies for a thousand miles
It's a good life in the happily ever after
Last page of a very last chapter
It's the story of a charmed life
As soon as we can get the kids scrubbed and asleep in their beds, Jacob has promised me a hot bath, which he will run for me, and then join me in it to wash my hair. If you ever saw my bathtub you would know why I wanted this house so badly. It's a cast-iron clawfoot tub, black on the outside with ivory enamel so thick on the inside it shows your reflection. I can swim in it. I won't even touch on what it's like to have a bath with this man, because, well...oh please. It's a fairy tale of epic proportions.
His condition was that I pour the rest of the whiskey down the drain.
That was easy.
4:58, or Jake's home!
Aw, damn. Some moments nothing is better than seeing Jacob pull up out front and come inside with a big bag of spicy beef salad, fried tofu, chicken noodle soup and rice. He's a prince. I hope I can taste this. I can't smell it and that's a shame, because I always stick my head in the paper bag and breathe in the take-out goodness when Jake gets Vietnamese food.
In other news, I'm starting to feel like shit again. That brief euphoric Dayquilfest was such a rip-off.
3:49
The conversation went something like this, with five people involved:
What are you going to be for Halloween, Bridge?
I don't know. Still thinking.
You should go as your alter-ego?
Huh?
Widget.
Yeah, that would be so awesome.
Oh my god.
Doesn't the widget look just like me though?
Uh, sort of, but less...uh...composed.
With bedhead.
Possibly, no, definitely drunk.
Lipgloss smeared across her cheek.
Okay stop.
Mascara running down her face.
Enough, guys.
Holding one high heel because she lost the other.
Missing one earring too.
Oh good one.
Dress unbuttoned but still on.
Dancing by herself in the middle of the room.
Lost little girl.
I don't see how this is funny.
Christ I think I remember that night.
Oh shut up!
Are you done yet?
What night? I think I would remember if I lost one of my shoes.
Do you think so? Because there were times, Bridge...
You could call yourself Ex-Bride of Cole, sort of like Bride of Frankenstein only more fucked up.
Nice.
Okay, I've had enough.
Aw Jake! Come on, we're only kidding.
Just for that we're going as an angel and a devil.
Yay. Who's the devil?
You can be the devil, Bridget.
YES!
That's a good idea too, but I'd like to see the Widget.
I bet you would.
Now do you see why I'm so excited to meet some of the moms at the school? With friends like these..well, I need some new friends.
2:30
Well, I made it through most of the school day, and I finally succumbed to the Dayquil goodness. Since it lasts for around 6 hours it will keep me upright until I can fall into Jack's arms at 8.
Or Jake's.
Whoever catches me first. Of course, Jack only goes so far. What little there is in the bottle I found at the top of the cupboard. Jake keeps going and going, he's like the holy energizer bunny. I don't think I have ever seen him sick and so I suppose kissing him tonight will be a bad idea. He's been kissing me on the forehead lots lately which I don't like because we fall into those parent/child roles (Sort of the way things are with Lochlan) and that's an uncomfortable place for me to be, with him of all people. Seeing as how we continue to lust after each other so mightily, well, that's really weird.
I don't like weird. Freaky, yes. Weird, no.
Coming up next, the biggest laugh of the week. The boys have devised Bridget's ultimate Halloween costume for this coming October 31. I thought it was hilarious too. Jake? Uh...not so much.
God, I feel like total shit right now. How long does the Nyquil take to kick in?
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