Stories of life in the suburbs with Husband and our daughter Squishy and son Button!

Friday, December 31, 2010

Where Were You on 9/11?

This is what I plan to say to my kids when they ask me "Mommy, how did you and daddy meet?"

I met my husband at a party celebrating the end of middle school. For now, I will call him My Man. The party was at a mutual friend's house and before My Man walked in the best thing at the party was the home made cream cheese puffs and the Nerf guns. I was sitting with my two best girl friends, we will call them Thing 1 and Thing 2. My Man came barreling down the stairs wearing a blue tee shirt and a backwards red Wild hat.

Me: "He's cute."
Thing 1: "Okay."

And it begins...

We talked on AIM and email for a while. He liked reading and riding his bike and I liked my dog and playing soccer. Match made in Heaven, right? We rarely saw each other face to face. We just talked through emails and online chats. We were getting to be pretty good friends when he asked me to be his girlfriend. 

My Man was technically my second boyfriend, but I don't like to count the little 8th grade snaffoo with that one guy, it was more a business arrangement. Anyway, so My Man and I were dating, or, whatever. He spent most of the summer in Arizona with his grandparents so we didn't see each other, which was fine by me. We talked every day on chat or by email. I remember one email that was just a bunch of ampersands in the shape of a giant Hershey's Kiss....don't know why I remember that one. 

So he came back from summer vacation and high school is about to start and I got nervous and one thing led to another thing and we broke up. My fault, I didn't know what I was doing. Don't worry, we end up together. 

After we broke up we no longer needed to pretend like we knew what we were doing. We could just be friends. Best friends. It was awesome. Some people think that boys and girls can't be best friends, but we were. We talked about everything, went for walks to the park (mostly because we couldn't drive yet), watched movies and had inside jokes. 

He dated Thing 1 off and on for a while, and she didn't like my friendship with him at all, so it came to pass that My Man's and mine friendship suffered. Frustrating, but that's high school for you. I never dated anyone in high school. Except for one other business arrangement with a sophomore when I was a senior...again, he never held my hand. I remember ranting to an unbiased friend about all the drama. He said "So you're in love with him?" I answered "no", but it was from that point on that the seed was planted. 

I went away to college to get away from My Man and the drama that always seemed to happen whenever our friendship was on again. Drama example: End of freshman year we exchanged yearbooks and I wrote a whole page in his and he wrote a whole page in mine. I said stuff like "you're my best friend, love you big bro," stuff like that. The next morning Thing 1 accosted me in front of all our friends and tore my note from his book and ripped it up in front of me saying hurtful things. He didn't back me up. Ouch. The girls bathroom saw a lot of tears that day.

That summer I went on a concert band tour of Europe and I wrote him an email in London telling him about my trip and asking where we stood since the total humiliation a month earlier. Three days later in Paris I found another internet cafe and had an email from Thing 1 saying more hurtful things and telling me that he doesn't want to talk to me, blah blah blah. Seriously, ouch. 

After three more years of that, out of state school seemed amazing. I knew nobody! No drama! I thought I would never want to leave!

Little did I know...

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Then the Stick Said "PREGNANT"

This is my first post on my new blog. I assume that I won't reach millions of readers for several more posts, at which time you jonny-come-latelys will flock to the "older posts" button to read every single word I've written since this historic day. So, this post is for you...

I had a Xanga jounal once. I guess it was a blog-like thing that my little high school mind would decorate with pink on black text and gripe about how my mother did things like cooked dinner and cleaned the house and supported my rebellious ass and loved me unconditionally...only, you know, I didn't know it at the time. I feel like a lot of people, male or female, can relate to this kind of thing. That was a while ago. I am not claiming to be a professional blogger based on this experience.

Why did I start a blog? Because my husband has one. Also, every time I hear someone say something I have a comment about it, and I'm a good writer. I'm a good writer in the capacity that I can type the final draft of something the first time. This skill helped me through a lot of English classes in college, along with the fact that I spoke English, which was hard for some of the other students. It's hard for someone to write a Comparison-Contrast paper when you don't know what those two words mean. All I needed was a topic...then the "stick turned blue".


Actually, the stick didn't turn blue. The stick said "PREGNANT". But didn't all of you know exactly what I meant by that phrase? Plus, I don't think that thought would have come across the way I imagined if I wrote "then the stick said pregnant." (Sorry, but I totally just made that the title of this post. I'm laughing)

This blog is for me. This blog is for you. This blog is for my family.

You may now proceed to the second post.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

First Post

This was a placeholder post for design purposes.  See the real first post here!