The past week has found me with a serious case of the blahs, hence my blog silence.
I hate winter, but who wants to hear me whine about that?
I had a series of days where stupid, annoying things went wrong. Eh. Happens to everyone.
I'm worried that our flight out to Oregon on Christmas Day won't make it out because the weather is so bad in Portland, but I'm trying not to worry about things over which I have no control. I'm failing.
Had to cancel a dinner with friends due to weather. Memo to winter: BITE ME.
I've been letting the kids watch a lot of Dora.
I've been reading a lot of very emotional, beautiful, and painful writing by other widow(er)s. It's haunting and addictive.
My brain feels like it's in neutral. Coherent thoughts are not in residence. I actually do have some semi-coherent thoughts on the definition of single parent, but it's the kind of post that is going to cause controversy and I'm not in the mood for disagreement right now. Maybe in '09.
I miss John. I miss having a spouse. I talked to John the other day, out loud, for the first time in I can't remember how long. Oddly, I talked about Mr. Coffee. Why I chose to talk through my Mr. Coffee feelings with my dead husband is a total mystery to my conscious mind, but that's what happened. Upshot? Next time Mr. Coffee and I see each other it's so I can tell him that we're not going to see each other any more. No regrets, no harm, no foul, and I will miss him. But ultimately I need someone who can put me first, and I don't think Mr. Coffee can do that. And I don't think I can look for someone who can while devoting brainspace to Mr. Coffee. I am poor at multitasking beyond what my daily life requires of me.
Not sure what my plan is for dating. I let my Internet dating service subscription lapse, not because I thought I'd found The One in Mr. Coffee, but because the profiles were starting to bore me. Maybe another service? Maybe a break? I'd be happy to go on some more dates, just not sure how I'm going to go about finding them.
Last week, the twins and I were in the car on the way to Whole Foods. I listened to Maddie and Riley engage in a long (for toddlers; must have been about three minutes) conversation/negotiation during which they determine that it is acceptable to both parties for Riley to borrow Maddie's panties.
They move on to the details of the arrangement.
R: I can wear the white ones, YaYa?
M [horrified]: NO! No, Riley! Those white ones are on my vagina. [Ed.: Not true; she was wearing pink panties that day.]
R [thinking]: OK. I can wear the pink ones?
M [complete with sigh and eye roll]: Of course. Of course you can, YaYa. Of course you can wear the pink ones.
So the next morning, I offer Riley a pair of Maddie's pink panties, which he accepts with delight. We discuss the fine details of panty-wearing.
Me: So, what do you do when you need to make a wee?
R: I say, "Mama! I need to wee!"
Me: Absolutely. And then what?
Me: You make a wee on the potty!
R [horrified]: I NO WANNA MAKE A WEE ON THE POTTY! WHERE IS MY DIAPER!
And here I thought we were making some potty training progress. Perhaps not.