The Sounds of Silence

So I've become this sappy, happy, swooning mushball who never updates her blog. This week has been so happily unremakable that I've struggled to find something to write about.

On the dating front, things continue to go well with Mr. Coffee. He e-mailed me every day from his business trip, and immediately when he got home. We talked on the phone last night (me! I'm not a phone talker!), and we made arrangements to go out for dinner tomorrow night.

I'm trying hard to remain rational, calm, and level-headed about all of this, but I confess that it's been really hard. For so long, I felt like the part of me the controls my need for emotional and physical intimacy completely shut down when John died, never to be reactivated again. The idea that I could crave that kind of connection was so alien as to be almost repugnant. So it's been a total shock to me to discover that not only can I get that fluttery feeling upon receipt of a flirty e-mail, but I really like it. It sounds melodramatic and pitiful, but I didn't know if I'd ever feel that way again.

But I do! And what a surprise it is to rediscover how fun it is. What I have felt this week is the closest thing to happy—the closest thing to the me I had all but forgotten—that I've felt in years. Years! I've been more patient with the kids. I've slept both better (deeper, more peacefully when I'm sleeping) and worse (fewer total hours, more middle-of-the-night insomnia). Oddly, three times this week I forgot to eat dinner and had to get up at 2:00 a.m. to have some cereal. The days have this kind of glow about them that makes even the hard stuff easier. I've been doing things around the house, nothing major, but a few little, long-put-off tasks.

I'm really good at overanalyzing things. Really good. A champion. I've thought a lot this week about the source of my improved outlook. Is it just that I've given myself permission to move forward in my life without guilt? Is it the exhilaration of going on a date, any date? Or is the exhilaration of going on a date with Mr. Coffee specifically?

It's probably a combination of those things, and ultimately, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that I feel good, that I feel happy. I could get used to this.

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I've e-mailed with a few other potentially interesting prospects on the Internet dating front, including two guys today who could spell! And write complete, grammatically correct sentences! I know, I am so demanding. So we'll see. I continue to work on keeping an open mind about the whole thing.

There have been so many bad profiles that I've stopped keeping track of them all. The best of the worst of the past few days was a guy whose ideal date was to be sitting in the same room with his girlfriend, each playing his and her respective online role-playing game. Nothing against online role-playing games, they just aren't my thing. And while I don't feel a need to fill every silence or spend every moment on a date involved in deep conversation, I do like at least a little interaction. Oh, and he finished his profile off with this line: If you want to breed, move on to the next profile. OK, I guess kids are out! Duly noted.

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Speaking of kids, Maddie and Riley have been hilarious lately. They say so many funny things that I can't keep track of them all. I can't keep track of any of them, really, because they go by way too fast. I spend a lot of my day laughing at—I mean with—them. I feel less often at loose ends with them on weekends and more like we can just relax and have fun together. It's nice.

Of course, it helps that they are (knocking on all available wood) sleeping better and seem to have reached a new developmental level where they share more and freak out about less. They have their moments—they are two after all—but they are far more even-tempered than they were even a month ago. I hear, though, that these months are just sweet calm before the storm of 2.5 starts, so I'm enjoying the good times while they last.

OK, must go eat some dinner tonight. No more 2:00 a.m. bowls of cereal.