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| Sunday, August 12, 2007 |
| Romance |
I am not really a romantic person, as the term is generally understood. If Beloved wrote me poems, I would be uncomfortable and squirmy, and it would be too intense for me. I would run away or giggle and generally react badly. I don't think diamonds are a good gift idea. I don't feel that I need flowers, or cutesy notes around the house.
However. When we returned from Europe, and I spent a little time reflecting on our time together, I decided - that was a romantic trip.
It was just the two of us. We had nothing pressing on either of us. We enjoyed each other's company, we had plentiful and enjoyable conversations. We explored new places together, we were flexible together, and we were tired together. We had a few moments where we sniped at one another, but we quickly returned with apologies. I know we both were very conscious of the other's needs and quirks and weaknesses. We sat in cafes, sipping coffee, or wine, or nibbling on crepes. We visited some funky coffeeshops, and sipped cokes and fresh squeezed orange juices, and giggled our asses off. We made plans for our future - our future trips, our future homes, our future lives, our kids' futures.
We had a blast.
Coming home and being back in our apartment, in our town - the bubble shrunk, if it didn't pop quite yet. The empty fridge that needed filling, the cats that needed feeding, the air conditioners that wouldn't turn on, the mail that (still) hadn't been delivered, the girls' impending arrival -- all of that came in on us pretty quickly, and already, there was a wee bit less forgiveness, flexibility, tolerance. I tried hard to hold onto it. I wanted our vacation selves to stick around.
Now the girls are home, and man, the bubble is popped. It's just hard. We can't focus on each other the same. There's the girls to focus on. It's their needs that we both dance around and accommodate, rather than our own or each other's. I miss it. I think, Europe or not, I miss it every year. I will find solace in knowing it's there, waiting for us, and will be there for the rest of our lives, ready to come out when the opportunity arises.
And geez ... X has clearly never heard of a bedtime. These girls won't go to bed before midnight, and Beloved and I are trying to get up at 8 and get to the gym in the mornings - how the hell can we have sex if we fall asleep before the kids?Labels: kids, love, marriage, summer |
posted by Zuska @ 10:27 PM   |
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| Thursday, April 05, 2007 |
| Because I just looooove having my back scratched!* |
I did not win the vacuum. I knew I wouldn't --- I'm not a contest winner. I wondered if Housewife would win - and if she did - I wondered if she'd really send me the thing! But she didn't win either.
I think she would have sent it to me, because she seems like an honest person (brutally so!).
Therefore, I'm playing at this one, too.
And if I win, I'm having it sent to her.
Because my parents are ridiculously on line --- RIDICULOUSLY on line.
Kinda makes me nervous that they'll find my blog one day - but eh. Who cares.
* Beloved scratches my back every single night. Every night. It has been probably a year or so now that it's been our "routine" - even though we've been cohabitators for 3+ years. I don't remember how it started, but I hardly ever even have to ask. He brings it up 9 times out of 10, and unless I'm in a shitty/needy/whiny mood, I won't bring it up, because I know just how spoiled I am. He scratches it absolutely perfectly, too. And sometimes, for as long as an HOUR while we talk in the night.
I am a spoiled girl. I love him.Labels: beloved, contest, love |
| posted by Zuska @ 9:35 PM |
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| Tuesday, December 05, 2006 |
| Birthdays? Check. |
Beloved and I are older now. Our kids made us adorable cards.
e. made me a card that almost made a tear come out.
Ever since she was a baby (just home from the hospital), I sang "you are my sunshine" to her. I remember my grandmother singing it a lot, when I was young. It was "officially" my grandmother's song for my sister - sis was her Sunshine, and I was the Apple of Her Eye. But Sunshine is a better song.
I remember being up late at night with my night-owl baby, trying desperately to get her to sleep. I'd sing the song progressively slower, hoping that by the time each syllable was 30 seconds long, she'd be asleep. Although I don't know what I was thinking ... who can sleep through my atrocious singing?
That song never went away, though. Even this year, when e. is too wired to sleep, she'll ask that I sing it for her. Since she's 10, and I know that the days where she asks me to sing to her are almost over, I have no problem doing so.
On my card, the following is written (my girls don't buy cards, they make cards):
Dear Mommy: You are my mommy, My only mommy, You make me happy, when skies are gray, You'll never know, mom, How much I love you, Please don't take my Mommy away. [and then there's a stamp of a sunshine] The "imprint" on the card? "E[.] loves her mom and [Beloved], Inc." It was sweet. Julez's card: To: The fabulous
wonderful
terrific
beautiful
polite (only sometimes)
Nice
Not Mean
MOMMY!!
From:
[insert funky arrow pointing back to the top which I did not fully understand]
the fabulous
wonderful
terrific
beautiful
polite (only sometimes)
nice
not mean
J!!!
p.s. Thanks for all your hard work to give us clothing and warmth.
Her "imprint": "J., Ink of Niceness (copywright) there always nice and cheery!!" Sweet girls. Their cards for Beloved were no less sweet and loving. Perhaps j.'s was slightly less narcissistic ;) Beloved is snoozin' on the other couch with his Pod in ears, happy to have one again. I think he liked his gifts. We kind of tricked him, making him think he was having a purely practical bday - we wrapped the pod into a shirt, and it was the last thing he opened. Now our birthdays are over, and we can move on. Move on to Solstice, for which I must start making gifts for!! Crap!! Our tree is going up this weekend, and I want lights on our window that faces the street. I love holiday lights. I love the glow they put in the house. Hopefully the decorating will be fun and not stressful. Labels: beloved, kids, life, love |
| posted by Zuska @ 9:43 PM |
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