Some people dread the annual gynecologist appointment but I really don’t. I dread the waiting. That office seems to have the greatest potential for long delays. This year I decided to make a dentist appointment in the same day so I could justify taking the entire day as sick time. I loathe my job so much that I’m willing to endure those two appointments just for a day off. Of the two I am really dreading the dentist.
That said the gynecologist office leaves me emotional in the last few years. It’s a reminder of my age and stage of life that creates sadness. The waiting room is full of pregnant women and women hauling new babies. There are dads that have come along to witness the ultrasound. I am here alone. As I wait for the doctor in my designer paper gown I hear the whooshing of the heartbeat monitor next door. I remember those times though now more than eighteen years ago. How did that time go so fast?
Four pregnancies, three live births I recount again for the doctor. Yes I can laugh without peeing myself and make it to the bathroom on time. “Wahoo You wouldn’t believe how uncommon that is for your age” she remarks. Sigh I’m 43.
It has become more emotional each year and yet I appreciate where I am at. I was fortunate to have that previous stage a few times over. I am there alone but so far everything is routine. There is the other side when the husbands come along because the news is not so good.
I don’t know maybe I’m just emotional because I have to go to the damn dentist next.
I love you.
I know it is something I say no less than 99 times a day. I so want to take pen to paper and write words that will paint a beautiful picture of heartfelt expression. Though I am just not that articulate. I try but I am never satisfied that I have done justice to my feelings for you. When I say I love you through tears or bursts of giggles know that it is not just something that I say it is something that I feel deep in my soul.
Twenty-five years passed in the blink of an eye. We’ve been through so much and yet I swear it was yesterday we giggled through our wedding vows. I’d do it with you all over again. You have given me a wonderful life.
Celebrating this milestone by fulfilling the promise of the yellow rose was perfect. I know there are plenty of dreams that we have yet to envision. So, here’s to the second twenty-five and may we lay the ground work for the third twenty-five.
I love you Daddy
P.S. Please don’t kill me for filling your car with balloons. 😉
When you scroll your blog feed, Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, Tumblr, FetLife…
Which wolf are you feeding?
We take joy in and accept a child that sees the world in this manner, however there’s a stigma with an adult that continues to do the same.
I believe this is what Daddy is often looking for when he says I need you to be little. The happiness it brings him just watching me enjoy life.
Mark Nepo The Book of Awakening
“Believing is all a child does for a living.”
~ Kurtis Lamkin
Picasso once said that artists are those of us who still see with the eyes of children. Somehow, as we journey into the world, more and more gets in the way, and we stop questioning things in order to move deeper into them and start questioning as a way to challenge things that we fear are false.
As a child I used to talk to things – birds that flew over head, trees that swayed slowly in the night, even stones drying in the sun. For years, though, I stopped doing this freely because of what others might think, and then I stopped altogether. Now I learn that Native Americans do this all the time, that many original peoples believe with their childlike eyes right into the center of things.
Now, almost fifty, I am humbled to recover the wisdom that believing is not a conclusion, but a way into the vitality that waits in everything.
I have not openly talked about my online friends with my children. Now they are not stupid and they have known for quite some time that I am chatting online. I have been given many a lecture about how who I am chatting with could really be a “middle aged man in his mother’s basement”. Lmao When I talk to Daddy about my friends I tend to lower my voice around the kids. I am not ashamed of them, I think it is just due to the nature of our meeting. I’m not good at lying and so telling them I met them in a quilting forum wouldn’t be convincing. Lol
Saturday I got the news just a couple hours before an extended family bbq. Daddy texted all of the kids and let them know that someone I was close to was gone. It wasn’t discussed but I got extra hugs and they were sympathetic.
In the next few months I am planning to meet a few of these friends in person. Last night I casually mentioned to my oldest the conference and friend that I would be meeting. I gave little detail as I hadn’t quite planned it out. This morning I realized I really do want to let the kids know about my friends. I want to talk about them openly. Elsewhere too. I lost a really good friend and part of me wanted to say something when I was asked How was your time off? Alright was what I said when I really wanted to say it fucking sucked.
I’m going through the photos in our group chat. thousands of photos There are lots of cute animals, memes, pens, mlp, coloring pages we’ve done, photos of our kids, pets, hair. Scrolling through is mostly innocuous and then a dildo pic rolls by. lmao
We’ve shared everything. Our lives.
Emmie’s last upload.