No lapdances this post, folks.
Not so much glowing with pregnancy as I am glowing with the heat of a thousand suns. Last night I ran the mother of all fevers, to the point where Jacob woke me out of a sound sleep with medicine to bring it down because he said the bed was so hot he woke up. He made me drink gatorade, stripped off my camisole and pajama pants and sat up with me for hours.
This after he had to do everything anyways, coming home from work with groceries and finding me halfway across our bed, having been sick with the shakes and chills all afternoon. Bless his heart, he got me the rest of the way into bed and got dinner and bedtimes achieved with a flair that only Jacob has. He brought me flowers.
And my mother calls from home and tells me she's on penicillin for the same cold/flu and maybe I should go back to the doctor. I point out I see the doctor once a week.
And the kids are still coughing so much I'm keeping them home again. Well, that and the fact that I'm too sick to walk to school four times today (8k total) so we're in, we're down and we're going to get better or die trying.
Thursday, 28 September 2006
Wednesday, 27 September 2006
Unbreakable.
(Uh-oh, the second half of this became the requisite porn post. I'm not sorry. Very sweetly I will make no apologies.)
Someone is losing his mind.
Jacob has been mostly around for all of two difficult pregnancies and he's forgetting all the rules, which usually begin with:
1) bring deep fried food and orange juice. Cake is a plus, but then again, when is cake not a plus?
2) hold the hair! Who cares how much I'm sick, just don't let it get in my hair.
I'm not a doll (ha), and I don't need to be treated with kid gloves but when I feel really great and I want to do things, I have to talk him into everything, because he thinks I should lounge around swaddled in blankets and have people bring me things all day like a princess would (so where is all the deep fried food I requested? Hello!). He absolutely forbade me to wear my high heels outside anymore (Notice I said outside because oh, he doesn't mind if I wear them indoors). In case I slip or something.
Remember he's stepped in to be there during such very private times you wouldn't believe it. You have to have faith in someone when I felt so comfortable with him from the moment I first met him and he put his arm around me on that hammock and kept me safe through that entire night when I was out of it. It was definitely something bigger than both of us.
God was busy playing matchmaker, and we were slow.
And then through being pregnant with Ruth when he would bring me smoothies and the very first time he stopped by and I didn't answer the door, he came in anyway and sat down on the bathroom floor behind me and pulled my hair back so that I could just keep throwing up even though I tried to wave him away and fight off his arms and when I lay down on the floor because I was too fucking sick to crawl he picked me up and carried me to my bed and kissed my forehead and he sat on a chair in the corner and worked on his university papers, writing with his pen, papers and books balanced on his knees, while I slept and woke up only to be sick, and he would drop everything on the floor.
He got nothing of me then, except my worthless company, and still he took what I had to give him and I loved him for it. The best parts were given to Cole, who would come home from work and get to hold me and make love to me and take what he wanted and still expect me to pour his coffee in between dry heaves. Brutal. Do you know Cole never even called during the day to see how I was? Bitter one, indeed. Broken and fucking bitter.
The second time, with Henry, Jacob signed up for pretty much the same deal as Best Friend, only things were so far downhill from life the first time he was resigned to believe I had signed up to be tortured, that I truly was a masochist, and that my life wasn't turning out at all how it was supposed to. That part was true. This time Jacob had his hands full. He kept a one year old Ruth entertained almost every afternoon, and tried in vain to get her to nap by singing power ballads and Christmas carols to her and in between that he would come in and rub my back while I lay on the tiles, so much sicker the second time around that I wished the floor would just swallow me whole. The drugs barely helped.
And yet I survived, he helped me keep at least a little of my smile, my sweet disposition. And now, this third time around so far it seems a little easier because he's here all the time now. But I'm not always so sweet. Which I continue now to throw in his face daily. For I do not want to be sweet sometimes. I don't want to have any of that. I want to be fucking depraved. You only think I was kidding when I said I would be his whore.
Are you really as tough as you think
you blink and you're over the brink
you bleed but the blood runs pink
with dirty second hands
dirty second hands
You're not quite as tough as you thought
you bought the American rod
the very seed that you thought you shot
with dirty second hands
dirty second hands
So you should have seen his face last night when I pitched a glorious all-out petulant tantrum because he really wasn't willing to pull out the strobe light (which! he bought! for me!) and crank the stereo up to twelve so we could have a little fun because I was finally feeling right at the right time, a critically choreographed chain of events that might possibly not happen again any time soon. The hell? And I'm so rusty after having spent most of August perfecting a lap dance so mind-blowing he forgot what to say when he answered the phone a full two hours later when I nailed it.
(Psst, Jake. When you pick up the phone, say 'Hello'.)
So now!
Honey! I feel terrific, and I'm so horny right now the balusters are looking promising. I know you'll be sorry if I start ripping apart the banister to get a little action around here.
I could barely get him in the mood for all my trying. And I'm usually frighteningly good at it. I have a way of kissing him that makes him too hard to stand up comfortably and he won't have it much, these days. I've been a mom for a long time but of course it's different this time, this is his baby and he's going to have a hard time reconciling his sex kitten wife with the mother of his children, I can see it. He wants to go the tender route, I want to remain mildly depraved. I like depraved.
Up until we got a positive test he was completely satisfied, albeit a little surprised that he could get a lap dance just by looking at me the right way. Bringing home a strobe light (!) and a better stereo for our bedroom sort of cemented his whole lottery-winner attitude. Possibly the funniest wedding present I've ever seen. He was finally. into. it. Yes.
Freaky is my middle name as much as Rebekah. He knows it and now he's been denying me something I want the past few days and that's..well, that's just not acceptable. He's going to have to get over that right now. Yesterday. Please?
The good news is, I think I've figured him out...almost. He just takes a lot longer to get into it, and it takes him an extra hour or two to start the hair-pulling, desperate, slow, unbearably languid, complete sex that I crave from him. Fine, it just adds a couple more hours to the fun. We have lost entire nights of sleep together over the past few months. It feels so good to be touched by him I can't even believe it. Maybe he's one of those touch-healers by default. I wish it worked on the dry heaves. They interfere with everything that's good.
And I don't think either of us really mind the extra time it takes to visit heaven. I know I don't. There's things to remember about being pregnant. Like if you're able to grow a human being for nine months then you're probably able to handle some serious sex with a capital S. And I really like the part of the night when he forgets to treat me like I will break and has a little fun. A little thorough, hard-edged fun. Yes. More. Please.
Please, Jake.
And he sure enjoys the hell out of his nightly lap dance. I wore out a CD. My favorite one, ten thousand days. I'm hoping I don't wear out iTunes now.
And finally with his consent, after much petulance and sighing took place, I got my wish. Last night I think I reached some sort of limber zenith. He was fucking stunned.
I wore his cowboy hat, pulled very low, I let my hair down, falling in waves to my elbows, coaxed my eyelashes to extreme lengths and after adding a cute new pair of pink boyshort undies that he bought for me and entirely too much candy-pink lipgloss, I wound out on his lap in his office chair with everything I had. I played a song for him, nice and loud, three times. He almost made it through the final chorus on the third go round, before I found myself stark naked, wearing nothing but that cowboy hat and a big smile, my arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, fingers tangled thoroughly in his beautiful blonde hair, discovering his talents. On the receiving end of his generous gifts, only for me. I thought we were going to break the chair. Reluctant my ass. I started out in control and I wound up so not in control. Just the way I like it.
He tries so hard to resist me but it's insurmountable.
I, however, am not.
Someone is losing his mind.
Jacob has been mostly around for all of two difficult pregnancies and he's forgetting all the rules, which usually begin with:
1) bring deep fried food and orange juice. Cake is a plus, but then again, when is cake not a plus?
2) hold the hair! Who cares how much I'm sick, just don't let it get in my hair.
I'm not a doll (ha), and I don't need to be treated with kid gloves but when I feel really great and I want to do things, I have to talk him into everything, because he thinks I should lounge around swaddled in blankets and have people bring me things all day like a princess would (so where is all the deep fried food I requested? Hello!). He absolutely forbade me to wear my high heels outside anymore (Notice I said outside because oh, he doesn't mind if I wear them indoors). In case I slip or something.
Remember he's stepped in to be there during such very private times you wouldn't believe it. You have to have faith in someone when I felt so comfortable with him from the moment I first met him and he put his arm around me on that hammock and kept me safe through that entire night when I was out of it. It was definitely something bigger than both of us.
God was busy playing matchmaker, and we were slow.
And then through being pregnant with Ruth when he would bring me smoothies and the very first time he stopped by and I didn't answer the door, he came in anyway and sat down on the bathroom floor behind me and pulled my hair back so that I could just keep throwing up even though I tried to wave him away and fight off his arms and when I lay down on the floor because I was too fucking sick to crawl he picked me up and carried me to my bed and kissed my forehead and he sat on a chair in the corner and worked on his university papers, writing with his pen, papers and books balanced on his knees, while I slept and woke up only to be sick, and he would drop everything on the floor.
He got nothing of me then, except my worthless company, and still he took what I had to give him and I loved him for it. The best parts were given to Cole, who would come home from work and get to hold me and make love to me and take what he wanted and still expect me to pour his coffee in between dry heaves. Brutal. Do you know Cole never even called during the day to see how I was? Bitter one, indeed. Broken and fucking bitter.
The second time, with Henry, Jacob signed up for pretty much the same deal as Best Friend, only things were so far downhill from life the first time he was resigned to believe I had signed up to be tortured, that I truly was a masochist, and that my life wasn't turning out at all how it was supposed to. That part was true. This time Jacob had his hands full. He kept a one year old Ruth entertained almost every afternoon, and tried in vain to get her to nap by singing power ballads and Christmas carols to her and in between that he would come in and rub my back while I lay on the tiles, so much sicker the second time around that I wished the floor would just swallow me whole. The drugs barely helped.
And yet I survived, he helped me keep at least a little of my smile, my sweet disposition. And now, this third time around so far it seems a little easier because he's here all the time now. But I'm not always so sweet. Which I continue now to throw in his face daily. For I do not want to be sweet sometimes. I don't want to have any of that. I want to be fucking depraved. You only think I was kidding when I said I would be his whore.
Are you really as tough as you think
you blink and you're over the brink
you bleed but the blood runs pink
with dirty second hands
dirty second hands
You're not quite as tough as you thought
you bought the American rod
the very seed that you thought you shot
with dirty second hands
dirty second hands
So you should have seen his face last night when I pitched a glorious all-out petulant tantrum because he really wasn't willing to pull out the strobe light (which! he bought! for me!) and crank the stereo up to twelve so we could have a little fun because I was finally feeling right at the right time, a critically choreographed chain of events that might possibly not happen again any time soon. The hell? And I'm so rusty after having spent most of August perfecting a lap dance so mind-blowing he forgot what to say when he answered the phone a full two hours later when I nailed it.
(Psst, Jake. When you pick up the phone, say 'Hello'.)
So now!
Honey! I feel terrific, and I'm so horny right now the balusters are looking promising. I know you'll be sorry if I start ripping apart the banister to get a little action around here.
I could barely get him in the mood for all my trying. And I'm usually frighteningly good at it. I have a way of kissing him that makes him too hard to stand up comfortably and he won't have it much, these days. I've been a mom for a long time but of course it's different this time, this is his baby and he's going to have a hard time reconciling his sex kitten wife with the mother of his children, I can see it. He wants to go the tender route, I want to remain mildly depraved. I like depraved.
Up until we got a positive test he was completely satisfied, albeit a little surprised that he could get a lap dance just by looking at me the right way. Bringing home a strobe light (!) and a better stereo for our bedroom sort of cemented his whole lottery-winner attitude. Possibly the funniest wedding present I've ever seen. He was finally. into. it. Yes.
Freaky is my middle name as much as Rebekah. He knows it and now he's been denying me something I want the past few days and that's..well, that's just not acceptable. He's going to have to get over that right now. Yesterday. Please?
The good news is, I think I've figured him out...almost. He just takes a lot longer to get into it, and it takes him an extra hour or two to start the hair-pulling, desperate, slow, unbearably languid, complete sex that I crave from him. Fine, it just adds a couple more hours to the fun. We have lost entire nights of sleep together over the past few months. It feels so good to be touched by him I can't even believe it. Maybe he's one of those touch-healers by default. I wish it worked on the dry heaves. They interfere with everything that's good.
And I don't think either of us really mind the extra time it takes to visit heaven. I know I don't. There's things to remember about being pregnant. Like if you're able to grow a human being for nine months then you're probably able to handle some serious sex with a capital S. And I really like the part of the night when he forgets to treat me like I will break and has a little fun. A little thorough, hard-edged fun. Yes. More. Please.
Please, Jake.
And he sure enjoys the hell out of his nightly lap dance. I wore out a CD. My favorite one, ten thousand days. I'm hoping I don't wear out iTunes now.
And finally with his consent, after much petulance and sighing took place, I got my wish. Last night I think I reached some sort of limber zenith. He was fucking stunned.
I wore his cowboy hat, pulled very low, I let my hair down, falling in waves to my elbows, coaxed my eyelashes to extreme lengths and after adding a cute new pair of pink boyshort undies that he bought for me and entirely too much candy-pink lipgloss, I wound out on his lap in his office chair with everything I had. I played a song for him, nice and loud, three times. He almost made it through the final chorus on the third go round, before I found myself stark naked, wearing nothing but that cowboy hat and a big smile, my arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, fingers tangled thoroughly in his beautiful blonde hair, discovering his talents. On the receiving end of his generous gifts, only for me. I thought we were going to break the chair. Reluctant my ass. I started out in control and I wound up so not in control. Just the way I like it.
He tries so hard to resist me but it's insurmountable.
I, however, am not.
Tuesday, 26 September 2006
30-second update theatre.
Kind of like 30-second bunny theatre, which we adore.
Because I don't want the last few entries up there but I hate the delete button. I really do. So here, have some drive-by updates, if you want more info on any of the following just leave a comment and I'll address it shortly:
-Me working- Not going to happen.
-Jake's firefighting side gig -still on. Nice. Impressed? Not so much.
-Baby name -oh, but you must guess. Carved in stone within seconds. And surprisingly conceived on our. wedding. day. Wow. Due mere days before my birthday. Double wow.
-Canadian iTunes-so not happy with. How hard is it to make the damn music available internationally? FUCK!
-Strobe light-I have one. You know you want to hear more. <---poooooorn.
-The cold from hell -rages on. Woe.
-House -not winterized, see above.
-Tool CD-wore it out. Must buy a new one. See strobe light note, above. (shhh!)
More later. Including porn.
Because I don't want the last few entries up there but I hate the delete button. I really do. So here, have some drive-by updates, if you want more info on any of the following just leave a comment and I'll address it shortly:
-Me working- Not going to happen.
-Jake's firefighting side gig -still on. Nice. Impressed? Not so much.
-Baby name -oh, but you must guess. Carved in stone within seconds. And surprisingly conceived on our. wedding. day. Wow. Due mere days before my birthday. Double wow.
-Canadian iTunes-so not happy with. How hard is it to make the damn music available internationally? FUCK!
-Strobe light-I have one. You know you want to hear more. <---poooooorn.
-The cold from hell -rages on. Woe.
-House -not winterized, see above.
-Tool CD-wore it out. Must buy a new one. See strobe light note, above. (shhh!)
More later. Including porn.
Haste and a mgnifying glass.
Let me get this out of the way.
I have some friends for sale.
Mostly all of them, okay all of them wonderful, loving, caring, slightly undomesticated males who can't manage to clean a dish or a shirt but have the art of barbecuing and women down to a science, save for one.
Me.
I love them, I really do. But I don't like to be second-guessed. Especially now.
All of them anxious for caution, for hesitancy. All of them also dealing with not knowing how bad things were for me at home. They kick themselves for not stepping in, for not doing something. For tearing Jake down instead of backing him up when he pressured me to leave Cole. Romantic rival, indeed. Don't think it isn't lost on them now that he was the only one who knew, and he couldn't help me, but maybe if they had backed him up it would have been easier.
And now Jake falls under their microscope. Jacob, the good guy. The minister, for heaven's sake. The one guy who could rip up a block of concrete with his bare hands but doesn't and won't, earning him the Friendly Giant/Preacher Boy nicknames. He would never ever hurt me. But still they're skittish. If we argue now they crowd in and attempt to do damage control, offering time away, space, moral support. Poor Jake. More eyes are on him then ever before and it's Cole's fault. Because they refuse to ever let things get so quietly out of control ever again. And now, of course telling them all that we're growing our family leads to judgments and comments and flack that I don't appreciate because it PUTS DOUBTS IN MY HEAD. The speed at which we've tried to find a routine, a normal family life after a monster of a miserable season leaves them gasping for air and I can't help that. I have to do what I want to do. For the first time it gives me a little control back and I like that. I don't frankly care how many heads are left spinning in our tiny, rippling wake. Don't fucking question me now. I'm only beginning to find happiness I should have had before and they're hellbent on wrecking it all.
Jacob is thrilled with the scrutiny. He's an open book, ready to share his own life, his philosophies, his loves with anyone who asks or ventures an enquiry. He doesn't mind the guys pressuring him to stay the straight and narrow because he will, he does. He only finds it ironic in this new day's light. He wants me to be surrounded by good people that I can count on. He believes that if people are accountable for their actions then they do better and he loves the fact that even good people always have room for improvement, himself included.
What he doesn't like, is the queue of guys standing in a line behind him ready to step in to his shoes should he (and he won't) fall. Oh no. Haven't we been through this already? Two separate occasions recently found me on the wrong end of deep conversations, ones that ended with lofty goals, promises I didn't ask to be made. Feelings I never wanted to know existed.
Bridge...if things don't work out with Jake...well, you don't have to be alone.
Oh my God. How noble, honorable, and really above and beyond the call of duty. Assurances from me that I won't be alone, and I won't be - I have my friends. My family, my kids. I wouldn't touch another friend if my life depended on it. I love these guys like brothers. I loved Jacob like nothing else. Can't they see the difference? And if they think it's easy to fall in love with and try to make a new life with a friend who knows every moment of your history then they are sorely mistaken, it's so much harder than we expected.
We didn't understand how much time we would spend re-examining old wounds, fighting old fights and forgetting that we're supposed to be lovers now, saying things you can say to friends, but should never say to people you have to go to bed with. And Jacob, standing in Cole's shoes, now knowing exactly how people view me. Seeing how people think about his wife, what sort of things they imagine and ways they try to get close to me and it's harder than he thought it would be, but still a place he would trade with no one, ever again.
I'm apparently a blessing, an ego trip and a curse all at once.
It's really fucking hard. And made harder, unintentionally by well-meaning friends who wind up with the harsh lights on them, too.
What the fuck? Were you my friend or are you just here because you want to get into my pants too? There's no fucking lineup! Go away! And take your fucking opinions with you.
I feel disillusioned, chaotic, betrayed in a totally different way. Then everyone steps back but it's too fucking late for that. It's out there and you can't stuff this one back in. Oh no. You let it out and it grew and now it's too big to hide it anywhere but in plain sight and I can never look at them the same way ever again and that hurts very badly.
It does.
I am not flattered.
What appeared to be such a proper, normal average life out here in cowboyland has become nothing more than a sordid, deceitful soap opera and it features me, the reluctant starlet. The lights are so hot. I'm shaken by what all these revelations have meant to my life as it stands now. Honest, pure love, personal safety, security and the price is that I'm brutally restrained into an insular environment in which I am always safe because I'm never out of reach and the numbers of people I have access to are now limited, a small number, because of the damn trust.
This is a price I can pay because I've lived both sides now and I would choose this in a heartbeat over the way things were before. The funny part is I expected it to feel claustrophobic and it doesn't. It doesn't at all.
When my friends learn how to deal with their feelings, I'll welcome them back into my world but until they do, I can't handle it. Jacob thinks I'm being harsh, surprisingly. No, I'm just exercising some long-overdue self-preservation. The icing on the cake, only this time I didn't ask for dessert. So I have to push away the beloved plate of cake and politely refuse, for now.
Have you ever needed someone so bad,
Have you ever wanted someone
You just couldn't have
Did you ever try so hard
That your world just fell apart
Have you ever needed someone so bad
And you're the girl I gotta have
I have some friends for sale.
Mostly all of them, okay all of them wonderful, loving, caring, slightly undomesticated males who can't manage to clean a dish or a shirt but have the art of barbecuing and women down to a science, save for one.
Me.
I love them, I really do. But I don't like to be second-guessed. Especially now.
All of them anxious for caution, for hesitancy. All of them also dealing with not knowing how bad things were for me at home. They kick themselves for not stepping in, for not doing something. For tearing Jake down instead of backing him up when he pressured me to leave Cole. Romantic rival, indeed. Don't think it isn't lost on them now that he was the only one who knew, and he couldn't help me, but maybe if they had backed him up it would have been easier.
And now Jake falls under their microscope. Jacob, the good guy. The minister, for heaven's sake. The one guy who could rip up a block of concrete with his bare hands but doesn't and won't, earning him the Friendly Giant/Preacher Boy nicknames. He would never ever hurt me. But still they're skittish. If we argue now they crowd in and attempt to do damage control, offering time away, space, moral support. Poor Jake. More eyes are on him then ever before and it's Cole's fault. Because they refuse to ever let things get so quietly out of control ever again. And now, of course telling them all that we're growing our family leads to judgments and comments and flack that I don't appreciate because it PUTS DOUBTS IN MY HEAD. The speed at which we've tried to find a routine, a normal family life after a monster of a miserable season leaves them gasping for air and I can't help that. I have to do what I want to do. For the first time it gives me a little control back and I like that. I don't frankly care how many heads are left spinning in our tiny, rippling wake. Don't fucking question me now. I'm only beginning to find happiness I should have had before and they're hellbent on wrecking it all.
Jacob is thrilled with the scrutiny. He's an open book, ready to share his own life, his philosophies, his loves with anyone who asks or ventures an enquiry. He doesn't mind the guys pressuring him to stay the straight and narrow because he will, he does. He only finds it ironic in this new day's light. He wants me to be surrounded by good people that I can count on. He believes that if people are accountable for their actions then they do better and he loves the fact that even good people always have room for improvement, himself included.
What he doesn't like, is the queue of guys standing in a line behind him ready to step in to his shoes should he (and he won't) fall. Oh no. Haven't we been through this already? Two separate occasions recently found me on the wrong end of deep conversations, ones that ended with lofty goals, promises I didn't ask to be made. Feelings I never wanted to know existed.
Bridge...if things don't work out with Jake...well, you don't have to be alone.
Oh my God. How noble, honorable, and really above and beyond the call of duty. Assurances from me that I won't be alone, and I won't be - I have my friends. My family, my kids. I wouldn't touch another friend if my life depended on it. I love these guys like brothers. I loved Jacob like nothing else. Can't they see the difference? And if they think it's easy to fall in love with and try to make a new life with a friend who knows every moment of your history then they are sorely mistaken, it's so much harder than we expected.
We didn't understand how much time we would spend re-examining old wounds, fighting old fights and forgetting that we're supposed to be lovers now, saying things you can say to friends, but should never say to people you have to go to bed with. And Jacob, standing in Cole's shoes, now knowing exactly how people view me. Seeing how people think about his wife, what sort of things they imagine and ways they try to get close to me and it's harder than he thought it would be, but still a place he would trade with no one, ever again.
I'm apparently a blessing, an ego trip and a curse all at once.
It's really fucking hard. And made harder, unintentionally by well-meaning friends who wind up with the harsh lights on them, too.
What the fuck? Were you my friend or are you just here because you want to get into my pants too? There's no fucking lineup! Go away! And take your fucking opinions with you.
I feel disillusioned, chaotic, betrayed in a totally different way. Then everyone steps back but it's too fucking late for that. It's out there and you can't stuff this one back in. Oh no. You let it out and it grew and now it's too big to hide it anywhere but in plain sight and I can never look at them the same way ever again and that hurts very badly.
It does.
I am not flattered.
What appeared to be such a proper, normal average life out here in cowboyland has become nothing more than a sordid, deceitful soap opera and it features me, the reluctant starlet. The lights are so hot. I'm shaken by what all these revelations have meant to my life as it stands now. Honest, pure love, personal safety, security and the price is that I'm brutally restrained into an insular environment in which I am always safe because I'm never out of reach and the numbers of people I have access to are now limited, a small number, because of the damn trust.
This is a price I can pay because I've lived both sides now and I would choose this in a heartbeat over the way things were before. The funny part is I expected it to feel claustrophobic and it doesn't. It doesn't at all.
When my friends learn how to deal with their feelings, I'll welcome them back into my world but until they do, I can't handle it. Jacob thinks I'm being harsh, surprisingly. No, I'm just exercising some long-overdue self-preservation. The icing on the cake, only this time I didn't ask for dessert. So I have to push away the beloved plate of cake and politely refuse, for now.
Have you ever needed someone so bad,
Have you ever wanted someone
You just couldn't have
Did you ever try so hard
That your world just fell apart
Have you ever needed someone so bad
And you're the girl I gotta have
Monday, 25 September 2006
Me, too.
Apparently I don't have enough to do today.
I wasn't entirely honest one post down. Hell, I'm not really honest with myself, why would I be honest with my journal? It's one peg down from the way I feel I should respond, and so again, I have talked myself into it.
I'm not sure I'm happy or excited about this baby.
In reality, its different. In reality I'm pretty fucking terrified.
And that isn't fair to Jake.
I wasn't entirely honest one post down. Hell, I'm not really honest with myself, why would I be honest with my journal? It's one peg down from the way I feel I should respond, and so again, I have talked myself into it.
I'm not sure I'm happy or excited about this baby.
In reality, its different. In reality I'm pretty fucking terrified.
And that isn't fair to Jake.
Me.
A lot of people have pointed out that I haven't talked about how I feel.
Gee, that's all I do in here. It's my place to put all the dark things so only light surrounds me in the real world. Those dark things have a place they can fester here and I can go off and be happy.
But how do I feel about the baby, you ask?
I'm cautiously happy. I'm a superstitious soul, scared to say too much, or do too much. I haven't felt well enough for it to even sink in. Before, thinking about having a baby that was half of me and half of Jacob left me with warm fuzzy sunshine-infused glowy love feelings and not much has changed. I can hardly believe it. My whole heart jumps fifty feet out of my body when he walks into a room, the fact that we've ever even made love or kissed each other and not had to do it in the dark away from prying eyes makes it simply sweeter.
I don't even have to go into the fact that the whole blonde haired goodness multiplied is going to make the most beautiful baby ever.
Honestly, I'm a little overwhelmed. I'm going to promise that this journal won't become a baby clock or a permanent record of how many time Bridget throws up every day because, well, I wouldn't come here either if I did that.
So instead. I think...
Yeah...
I think maybe it will become..the porn blog.
Oh I'm kidding.
An all-porn diet here would be just as annoying. So perhaps a little bit of everything. And a lot of that man. Because damn. Jacob gets hotter every single day. Okay so yeah...pooooooorn.
Gee, that's all I do in here. It's my place to put all the dark things so only light surrounds me in the real world. Those dark things have a place they can fester here and I can go off and be happy.
But how do I feel about the baby, you ask?
I'm cautiously happy. I'm a superstitious soul, scared to say too much, or do too much. I haven't felt well enough for it to even sink in. Before, thinking about having a baby that was half of me and half of Jacob left me with warm fuzzy sunshine-infused glowy love feelings and not much has changed. I can hardly believe it. My whole heart jumps fifty feet out of my body when he walks into a room, the fact that we've ever even made love or kissed each other and not had to do it in the dark away from prying eyes makes it simply sweeter.
I don't even have to go into the fact that the whole blonde haired goodness multiplied is going to make the most beautiful baby ever.
Honestly, I'm a little overwhelmed. I'm going to promise that this journal won't become a baby clock or a permanent record of how many time Bridget throws up every day because, well, I wouldn't come here either if I did that.
So instead. I think...
Yeah...
I think maybe it will become..the porn blog.
Oh I'm kidding.
An all-porn diet here would be just as annoying. So perhaps a little bit of everything. And a lot of that man. Because damn. Jacob gets hotter every single day. Okay so yeah...pooooooorn.
5 things about...food.
1. If there's red licorice around, I will eat the entire bag. Even if I start to feel sick and sugar starts to pour out of my ears and nose, I'll keep eating it until it's gone. I don't even share.
2. There's something inherently wonderful about a cinnamon roll from Starbucks. Maybe it's the decadence of paying $3.99 for something I can buy six of for the same price at the grocery store. Because they warm it up and put it on a plate and I can eat it at a trendy little table where the beautiful people hang out. Yes, somehow that makes it taste better.
3. Food will always taste better if you eat it while watching Iron Chef. When they're creating something gross.
4. And where the hell is Jamie Oliver anyway? I used to watch him cook on TV and he's nowhere to be found.
5. As of today I have officially lost 10% of my body weight. Leaving me with 96 pounds to keep me anchored on the ground if a strong gale blows. It might not be enough.
2. There's something inherently wonderful about a cinnamon roll from Starbucks. Maybe it's the decadence of paying $3.99 for something I can buy six of for the same price at the grocery store. Because they warm it up and put it on a plate and I can eat it at a trendy little table where the beautiful people hang out. Yes, somehow that makes it taste better.
3. Food will always taste better if you eat it while watching Iron Chef. When they're creating something gross.
4. And where the hell is Jamie Oliver anyway? I used to watch him cook on TV and he's nowhere to be found.
5. As of today I have officially lost 10% of my body weight. Leaving me with 96 pounds to keep me anchored on the ground if a strong gale blows. It might not be enough.
Sunday, 24 September 2006
Sleeping with the enemy.
Twisting and turning
Your feelings are burning
You're breaking the girl
She meant you no harm
Think you're so clever
But now you must sever
You're breaking the girl
He loves no one else
Maybe if I talk about him for the last fucking time, he'll move on. Writing it down now I can see it so much more clearly than before. Wishful thinking for a long rainy day. I'm really really tired, Ben. And you need to stop now. Please just leave me alone.
I wish I knew how to quit you.
Ben said that to me once, when he was one beer past fine. I remember Cole laughing and pulling me roughly into his lap while he took another sip of his rum, telling me I was a lucky girl to have so many admirers, that I was beautiful and he was proud of me. Jacob had left an hour earlier, uncomfortable with the general conversation as it was and the fact that Cole was sticking uncharacteristically close to me, when I was accustomed to him ignoring me completely except to grab me now and then when we'd pass each other. He usually left me to hang out with Jake. And later that night after the rest of our friends had left, Cole and Ben cornered me.
Did I want to have a threesome?
I almost bolted. I said with very wide eyes and shaking legs that I wanted to think about it, saying I was tired and maybe it wasn't such a good time. I'm happy it was a night when I had opted to stick to pineapple juice because had I not had my wits about me I might have slept with Ben. I was so scared they might make me do it anyways. I tried to play it cool and it worked and for some reason Ben saw how scared I was and he played along. He told Cole he wasn't sure it was the right night for that much fun.
I was just plain stunned that Cole even went there in the first place, with Ben. He usually only threatened to give me to Jacob or his own brother, Caleb. Sometimes I wasn't sure if he really understood the degree of my attraction to Jake or if he thought I was going to simply become everyone's barbie doll. I guess it depended on how drunk he was, because when he was sober he'd only talk of opening our marriage for Jake.
These are all things Jacob found out about this summer. We've talked a lot. Jacob has said if he has to keep this up he'll kill Ben and that scares him half to death. He would never have let Ben within eyesight of me had he been aware of all that history. Unspoken history indeed.
And Ben still isn't paying attention to the message.
He showed up uninvited last evening after dinner. Jake was out picking up some groceries and Ben must have seen him leave since the doorbell rang seconds after I watched the truck pull out of the driveway. I opened the door and went out on to the porch but I didn't unlock the screen door. Ben pulled at the handle and realized right away that I wasn't having any of it.
Bridge, what's this? Can you just let me in so we can talk?
No, Ben. Jake doesn't want you here anymore and I don't either. Just leave, please.
Jake's not home, princess.
Don't you fucking call me that.
I want to know what you want, not what Jake has told you to do.
I want you to leave because you're scaring me.
I wouldn't hurt you, Bridget.
Like you didn't hurt me when you crawled into my bed? It's sexual assault, Ben. People go to jail for that. And in case you've really lost your fucking mind, Cole said he'd never hurt me too. I stopped believing everyone a while ago, you're too late.
I was drunk. I'm sorry.
No excuses, Ben.
You're right. I'm sorry. You're so hard to resist.
Maybe you should try harder then. You don't grab every girl who catches your eye, Ben.
I can't...you're..you're just not any girl.
Just go away.
I really wish you'd forgive me.
You crossed the line for the second time and I can't forgive you anymore. I'm afraid of what would happen next.
What? You think I'd rape you?
Well, I can't trust you, Ben, and I can't protect myself. So I'm doing what I have to do. And if you don't go away I will get a restraining order against you.
Don't worry, your husband has made it clear.
What did he say?
That he would kill me and make sure no one ever finds my bones.
Then you should listen to him.
We used to be friends, Bridget.
I used to think you were kidding about wanting me, Ben.
I never kidded about that. And label me surprised, I didn't think you'd pick preacher boy over me.
Pick him? I didn't realize you had entered a popularity contest, Ben. I wanted Jake from the moment I met him and nothing about that ever changed until I left Cole. You knew what was going on as well as anyone else, maybe more. You weren't in the running. Why can't you see that?
Can you..can you tell me if you never met Jake would you have gone with me?
No, Ben. I wouldn't have. You've really got to move on.
Yeah, okay princess. I get it. My mistake.
That's a hell of a misunderstanding. What were you thinking?
Cole had said some things. Just..nevermind. Good luck, Bridge. With Jake, with the baby, and everything. I won't bother you anymore.
Just keep this promise, Ben, I've been through enough. Just let me be happy.
That's all I ever wanted for you, baby.
Then it's time to go.
Yes, it is.
Find a girl and fall in love, Ben.
I did. It just didn't work out quite the way I thought it would.
Goodbye, Ben.
Bye, Bridge.
I just left him there and I went back inside. From the living room window I watched him get in his car and drive away. I wasn't afraid, because I almost feel sorry for him. When Jacob came home he almost boiled over because he couldn't believe Ben had the balls to appear on our doorstep now. And he doesn't believe any promise Ben makes to me.
Somehow, I think Ben will keep this one.
Your feelings are burning
You're breaking the girl
She meant you no harm
Think you're so clever
But now you must sever
You're breaking the girl
He loves no one else
Maybe if I talk about him for the last fucking time, he'll move on. Writing it down now I can see it so much more clearly than before. Wishful thinking for a long rainy day. I'm really really tired, Ben. And you need to stop now. Please just leave me alone.
I wish I knew how to quit you.
Ben said that to me once, when he was one beer past fine. I remember Cole laughing and pulling me roughly into his lap while he took another sip of his rum, telling me I was a lucky girl to have so many admirers, that I was beautiful and he was proud of me. Jacob had left an hour earlier, uncomfortable with the general conversation as it was and the fact that Cole was sticking uncharacteristically close to me, when I was accustomed to him ignoring me completely except to grab me now and then when we'd pass each other. He usually left me to hang out with Jake. And later that night after the rest of our friends had left, Cole and Ben cornered me.
Did I want to have a threesome?
I almost bolted. I said with very wide eyes and shaking legs that I wanted to think about it, saying I was tired and maybe it wasn't such a good time. I'm happy it was a night when I had opted to stick to pineapple juice because had I not had my wits about me I might have slept with Ben. I was so scared they might make me do it anyways. I tried to play it cool and it worked and for some reason Ben saw how scared I was and he played along. He told Cole he wasn't sure it was the right night for that much fun.
I was just plain stunned that Cole even went there in the first place, with Ben. He usually only threatened to give me to Jacob or his own brother, Caleb. Sometimes I wasn't sure if he really understood the degree of my attraction to Jake or if he thought I was going to simply become everyone's barbie doll. I guess it depended on how drunk he was, because when he was sober he'd only talk of opening our marriage for Jake.
These are all things Jacob found out about this summer. We've talked a lot. Jacob has said if he has to keep this up he'll kill Ben and that scares him half to death. He would never have let Ben within eyesight of me had he been aware of all that history. Unspoken history indeed.
And Ben still isn't paying attention to the message.
He showed up uninvited last evening after dinner. Jake was out picking up some groceries and Ben must have seen him leave since the doorbell rang seconds after I watched the truck pull out of the driveway. I opened the door and went out on to the porch but I didn't unlock the screen door. Ben pulled at the handle and realized right away that I wasn't having any of it.
Bridge, what's this? Can you just let me in so we can talk?
No, Ben. Jake doesn't want you here anymore and I don't either. Just leave, please.
Jake's not home, princess.
Don't you fucking call me that.
I want to know what you want, not what Jake has told you to do.
I want you to leave because you're scaring me.
I wouldn't hurt you, Bridget.
Like you didn't hurt me when you crawled into my bed? It's sexual assault, Ben. People go to jail for that. And in case you've really lost your fucking mind, Cole said he'd never hurt me too. I stopped believing everyone a while ago, you're too late.
I was drunk. I'm sorry.
No excuses, Ben.
You're right. I'm sorry. You're so hard to resist.
Maybe you should try harder then. You don't grab every girl who catches your eye, Ben.
I can't...you're..you're just not any girl.
Just go away.
I really wish you'd forgive me.
You crossed the line for the second time and I can't forgive you anymore. I'm afraid of what would happen next.
What? You think I'd rape you?
Well, I can't trust you, Ben, and I can't protect myself. So I'm doing what I have to do. And if you don't go away I will get a restraining order against you.
Don't worry, your husband has made it clear.
What did he say?
That he would kill me and make sure no one ever finds my bones.
Then you should listen to him.
We used to be friends, Bridget.
I used to think you were kidding about wanting me, Ben.
I never kidded about that. And label me surprised, I didn't think you'd pick preacher boy over me.
Pick him? I didn't realize you had entered a popularity contest, Ben. I wanted Jake from the moment I met him and nothing about that ever changed until I left Cole. You knew what was going on as well as anyone else, maybe more. You weren't in the running. Why can't you see that?
Can you..can you tell me if you never met Jake would you have gone with me?
No, Ben. I wouldn't have. You've really got to move on.
Yeah, okay princess. I get it. My mistake.
That's a hell of a misunderstanding. What were you thinking?
Cole had said some things. Just..nevermind. Good luck, Bridge. With Jake, with the baby, and everything. I won't bother you anymore.
Just keep this promise, Ben, I've been through enough. Just let me be happy.
That's all I ever wanted for you, baby.
Then it's time to go.
Yes, it is.
Find a girl and fall in love, Ben.
I did. It just didn't work out quite the way I thought it would.
Goodbye, Ben.
Bye, Bridge.
I just left him there and I went back inside. From the living room window I watched him get in his car and drive away. I wasn't afraid, because I almost feel sorry for him. When Jacob came home he almost boiled over because he couldn't believe Ben had the balls to appear on our doorstep now. And he doesn't believe any promise Ben makes to me.
Somehow, I think Ben will keep this one.
Saturday, 23 September 2006
I promised I would write about his reaction.
Oh so happy.
Jacob pretty much knew anyway. If there's one dead giveaway it's that I throw up a lot. Not just in the mornings, it's pretty much an all-day continuous event. Hence the fight beginning early to not wind up dehydrated and in the hospital. I can't afford to spare much of the 98 pounds that remain. Being pregnant is one of those struggles for me that winds up being a minute-by-minute battle and this cold on top of everything has left me completely drained.
I sat down at the table, got the kids arranged and when everyone was finally happy and settled and the server had taken our orders, our eyes met over the middle of the table (this was in between hovering over Henry to keep his perpetually running nose in check. I know, how romantic.)
So, Jacob, we need to talk about some things.
Like?
Like which room you'd like to turn into the nursery, for starters.
(This was the part where he almost dropped his water glass.)
Did you test?
I sure did.
The smile spread across his face in slow motion, it was the most amazing thing for me to watch. It started with the corners of his mouth turning up and widening and infecting his dimples, which deepened, creasing his cheeks into lines. Then it moved vertically, lighting up his eyes before they glassed over so thickly I thought he was going to lose it. Which he pretty much did. He jumped out of his chair and came around to my side of the table, putting his arms around me and kissing my cheeks, my hair, my lips. This was when he saw the hearing aid in my ear and that stopped him short.
What? When did you? Oh my god. I can't take all this in at once. It's too much. My God. Thank you God.
He's crouched beside my chair right in my face. I put my hands on his face and told him to sit down and we'll talk without the familiar echo of repeating every second phrase thanks to the surrounding din of clinking silverware and low conversation.
He stood up and apologized to our nearest audience, the next table who had stopped eating and were watching us have this crazy exchange.
We're having a baby! And....she can hear me!
They murmured their slightly confused congratulations, oblivious to the emotion in his voice, which I heard for the first time in public in a way that knocked me on my ass, because it was so prevalent I will never forget it.
Dinner was sort of a blur, after that. Besides, I didn't really feel well enough to enjoy it.
He sang in the truck, the whole way home. Softly, and I heard him, lyrics I didn't know, but I recognized Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, because we've danced to it a lot recently:
I was the one you always dreamed of
You were the one I tried to draw
How dare you say it's nothing to me
Baby, you're the only light I ever saw
After the kids were snugly tucked in for the night, we retired to the den to talk and cuddle and he held me so sweetly and he whispered things, talking about how happy he was, and how thankful he was for me, for everything we have. It would have been the most romantic way to end the day. Except for one thing.
The very decidedly unromantic vomiting, which punctuates every part of the day now. Something that's become pretty much part of my routine again. I really hate that part.
He doesn't seem to mind at all.
Jacob pretty much knew anyway. If there's one dead giveaway it's that I throw up a lot. Not just in the mornings, it's pretty much an all-day continuous event. Hence the fight beginning early to not wind up dehydrated and in the hospital. I can't afford to spare much of the 98 pounds that remain. Being pregnant is one of those struggles for me that winds up being a minute-by-minute battle and this cold on top of everything has left me completely drained.
I sat down at the table, got the kids arranged and when everyone was finally happy and settled and the server had taken our orders, our eyes met over the middle of the table (this was in between hovering over Henry to keep his perpetually running nose in check. I know, how romantic.)
So, Jacob, we need to talk about some things.
Like?
Like which room you'd like to turn into the nursery, for starters.
(This was the part where he almost dropped his water glass.)
Did you test?
I sure did.
The smile spread across his face in slow motion, it was the most amazing thing for me to watch. It started with the corners of his mouth turning up and widening and infecting his dimples, which deepened, creasing his cheeks into lines. Then it moved vertically, lighting up his eyes before they glassed over so thickly I thought he was going to lose it. Which he pretty much did. He jumped out of his chair and came around to my side of the table, putting his arms around me and kissing my cheeks, my hair, my lips. This was when he saw the hearing aid in my ear and that stopped him short.
What? When did you? Oh my god. I can't take all this in at once. It's too much. My God. Thank you God.
He's crouched beside my chair right in my face. I put my hands on his face and told him to sit down and we'll talk without the familiar echo of repeating every second phrase thanks to the surrounding din of clinking silverware and low conversation.
He stood up and apologized to our nearest audience, the next table who had stopped eating and were watching us have this crazy exchange.
We're having a baby! And....she can hear me!
They murmured their slightly confused congratulations, oblivious to the emotion in his voice, which I heard for the first time in public in a way that knocked me on my ass, because it was so prevalent I will never forget it.
Dinner was sort of a blur, after that. Besides, I didn't really feel well enough to enjoy it.
He sang in the truck, the whole way home. Softly, and I heard him, lyrics I didn't know, but I recognized Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, because we've danced to it a lot recently:
I was the one you always dreamed of
You were the one I tried to draw
How dare you say it's nothing to me
Baby, you're the only light I ever saw
After the kids were snugly tucked in for the night, we retired to the den to talk and cuddle and he held me so sweetly and he whispered things, talking about how happy he was, and how thankful he was for me, for everything we have. It would have been the most romantic way to end the day. Except for one thing.
The very decidedly unromantic vomiting, which punctuates every part of the day now. Something that's become pretty much part of my routine again. I really hate that part.
He doesn't seem to mind at all.
Thursday, 21 September 2006
Under the Bridget.
Hi.
I'm here. Somewhere in between this cold and (the probable) hyperemesis and this blissful post-John Frusciante hangover (who I swear to God I'm marrying next and Jacob's okay with it) I'm having a hard time typing, let alone staying upright. All energies are being poured into just keeping everyone alive.
But all is well, really well and I promise I'll write about it on Saturday. Going to just try and get through the next two days without getting so dehydrated.I was abruptly informed that I am indeed NOT allowed to marry John Frusciante. Jacob is putting his foot down. I suppose he agreed with me in some sort of musical hypnosis last night somewhere between all the unwelcome pot smoke around us and the thumping beat of the Chili Peppers driving the crowd wild and of course, now all that has worn off and reality returns.
It's okay. My consolation prize (Jake) is no slouch on the guitar. Now if I could just get him to fall to his knees and do a lead like John, well, then we'll have something to work with, now, won't we?
I'm here. Somewhere in between this cold and (the probable) hyperemesis and this blissful post-John Frusciante hangover (who I swear to God I'm marrying next and Jacob's okay with it) I'm having a hard time typing, let alone staying upright. All energies are being poured into just keeping everyone alive.
But all is well, really well and I promise I'll write about it on Saturday. Going to just try and get through the next two days without getting so dehydrated.I was abruptly informed that I am indeed NOT allowed to marry John Frusciante. Jacob is putting his foot down. I suppose he agreed with me in some sort of musical hypnosis last night somewhere between all the unwelcome pot smoke around us and the thumping beat of the Chili Peppers driving the crowd wild and of course, now all that has worn off and reality returns.
It's okay. My consolation prize (Jake) is no slouch on the guitar. Now if I could just get him to fall to his knees and do a lead like John, well, then we'll have something to work with, now, won't we?
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