Wednesday, November 30, 2011

It's begining to look a lot like Christmas!

Ah, yes... CJ's first Christmas.  Got the "Baby's first Christmas" ornament on lock, some gifts for the little guy already bought, some pictures taken for the Christmas cards....

Went to go see Santa at Dolphin Mall, cute little set up they have there. CJ dug the polar bears... but Santa... eh, not so much. Maybe next year.

All this holiday cheer, the smell of fresh baked goodies, the cool breeze (haven't turned on the AC in 2 days..yay) and really good sales at the mall all stir up the domestic diva in me. I suddenly have the urge to up-do my hair, wear low-heeled mules, get a french mani, and learn the proper way to starch and iron a man's shirt.

Could this be a sort of postpartum "nesting" that no one told me about? I'm sure I'm not the only single mother who held tightly to her 10 month old son as she gazed into the perfectly "American" holiday windows of a Ralph Lauren retail shop and daydreamed of a white picket fence surrounding an old colonial home with heirloom roses climbing a lattice that hugs front entrance way. The window on the left side of the home is open and two freshly baked apple pies cooling on it's sill. Inside the window an all white shabby chic kitchen is bustling with young kids chasing the family dogs while the ladies and I sip mimosas and check the Cornish hens. Laughter fills the house as we go outside to pick fresh dill and rosemary from my flourishing garden while the chickens run thru our legs. In the horizon my husband and son are casting a net in the pond we dug as a family to catch some fish for my state-fair winning fish spread that we'll serve tonight with some freshly baked bread. And unfamiliar smog creeps quickly over my view... hmm... my breath is fogging up the window again. Back to reality.

There's nothing like the first holiday with your kid I guess. At least for me I suddenly realize how badly I yearn to be domesticated. Haha. That ALMOST sounds bad. But I truly want to be amazing at all things domestic. Cooking, Baking, Cleaning, Organizing and running a household! I long for a home that is MINE; where my family can grow. Where I bake my cupcakes and sew CJ's costumes for his school play. Where I grow my prize winning roses and harvest a cornucopia of foods that feed me and my neighbors. Where my attic is neatly organized with all my decorations for the year's holidays and my basement is not only my office but storage for all the years canning and craft projects are sitting just waiting to be realized.

I long for a home whose mornings entail collecting eggs and vegetables for breakfast and sitting on the front porch in my terry cloth robe with a hot cup of espresso watching ol glory fly in the cool bay breeze.  Where afternoons can be lazy or balls to the wall crazy, but everyone feels at home. CJ will have his first kiss on the tire swing in the front yard and sell lemonade on the weekends to earn his first big boy bike. Where there is an old rocking chair on the front porch where I'll clean my rifle the night of CJ's first date and where my husband will clean his rifle when our daughter has her first date ;)

I'll go to PTA meetings and the women will stare cause I have pink hair and tattoos, but they ALL want my recipe for blueberry muffins.
I'll starch my sons and husband's shirts perfectly, and even press their handkerchiefs so well they will never even realize that they could even wrinkle.
All of CJ's friends will always want to come over cause "CJ's Mom is a total MILF, and she makes the best after-practice pizza," and we'll have sleep overs in the tents outside almost every weekend.
And when the neighbors fight with their spouses the husbands say "why can't you be more like Liz!" and the wives reply "When you start acting more like Liz's husband, I'll ask her for lessons you JERK!" But they all watch him (my husband) as he mows the lawn shirtless (so what if I rubbed him down with baby oil..heheheh...keeps the bugs off lol) and they all watch me when I wash the bikes or cars in my bikini... (like I said, the baby oil is purely for ... uhh... something ..)

I won't be perfect, but I'll be the best me and comfortable in my own skin. My hair, nails and skin will be on point because I take care of myself, eat right and exercise. I'll be happy because I will do what I love and love what I do. I'll wear the preppy white polo dress to CJ's football games like all the other housewives, but my pink hair, high heels, tattooed sleeves, gauged ears, gold teeth and hoochie acrylic nails will be unlike anything they could ever imagine. The women will respect me because I run a tight ship, always have a smile in my hello and am always willing to share a tip or recipe. The men will love me because I take care of my family well and look DAMN good doing it.

Dare to dream... then work hard as hell to make those dreams come true. . . looks like I have a lot of hard work ahead of me :) Funny thing is... I'm crazy enough to really think I can do it...

Friday, November 18, 2011

Excuse me while I pull my head out of my own ass.

There has never been a more dangerous time for a single mother than the time I spend alone. When CJ is asleep, and all the work has been done. I lay there and think about how nice it would be to have a warm body laying next to me. To ask me how my day was and rub my back when I'm aching from my epidural injection sites. Sometimes I wish my family hadn't fallen apart like it did.

My biggest problem is that when I start to miss my family, I get confused and think I'm missing CJ's father. I forget what poison he is to me. Don't get me wrong I'm sure there's some demented woman out there that will think he's aces. I just haven't gone that far off the deep end.

I'm a big believer that there is someone out there for everyone. I believe in love at first sight and following your gut. Two things that I ignored the past few relationships.

I feel like my head is firmly planted directly into my ass. I'm not quite sure what the issue is. Maybe I've kept myself so busy that I haven't had the chance to really re-connect with myself. I mean as I type this I have three different projects going on at the same time. I am tired. And it's not like wanting to be loved is so totally ridiculous either.

It's not about sex, but more like companionship. A partner. Someone who takes on an equal load. I've been thinking an awful lot about who I have become and what it is I want and what it is I deserve. I can tell you one thing I deserve the most: PEACE.

Peace is a state of mind as well as a state of being, from what I understand. So how to I attain Peace?
Step one: Pull your head out of your ass. Take a look around. Your life is pretty fucking sweet lady! ENJOY IT!
Step two: Balance. I won't have balance unless I understand my priorities and see myself as a priority. I need to get enough sleep, go to the gym, and eat right as well as be an amazing mother, employee and entrepreneur
three: I have to get certain people out of my life, and others back in.
four: avoid drama, and dramatic situations like the fucking plague.
five: take help when it's offered.

Peace. Yeah, peace... sounds perfect. . . I'm sure there are a few more things... but as of right now, This is a good start... now to get started on that sleep part.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Welcome November, good to see you again.

  Well Halloween sucked. It rained cats and dogs until CJ passed out, of course. Then the night was bearable. But I wouldn't know much of the night because I too passed out after shoveling handfuls of candy into wide-eyed kids bags dressed up as ninjas and such. One little Asian girl was Belle from Beauty and the Beast in a dress obviously NOT from the Disney store and she rocked one of those go green sacks from a farmers market. A girl after my own heart. She got two heaping handfuls of candy. Then she looked at me like I should give her more. Bitch, get outta my yard! Greedy lil heffa.

   But I did eventually sleep for about 14 hours with a brief interruption to get myself some water in the middle of the night after a horrible nightmare involving my sons father. I keep having these dreams of him being be-headed in a motorcycle accident. My subconscious can be a real prick sometimes. Granted, I do enjoy pushing his buttons and hearing him yell once in a while, but I would never want him to get hurt, much less be-headed. Yuck.

   Ever since Rigo and I broke up I've been really lazy and almost lost. I feel kinda like the rug has been pulled from under my feet. I don't like this at all. I'll snap out of it, I know I will. But shit, I didn't think it would take me this long. I don't think of him as much as I think of Marcelo, the one I left to be with Chris. I still kind of kick myself in the ass every now and then. Granted Marcelo wasn't the greatest guy for me either... listened to way too much Pink Floyd. But he was possibly the closest to exactly what I want with Rigo being a close second. Rigo and Marcelo were cut of the same cloth. Both Anonymous members, both techs, both into sustainable living and paintball, both into leaving the smallest carbon footprint they could, both pot heads, both worshiped my body and were amazing lovers, both completely covered in tattoos, both could hold a decent conversation on astronomy... I'm sure there's more. But come to think of it, Rigo did to me almost exactly what I did to Marcelo. Damn you Karma!

Shit man, I didn't really think about it like that until now. Wow. I suck. Ok, well lesson learned. Marcelo will still be the one that got away. I remember, not too long ago, on my way to the gym I passed by Marcelo's old house. Looked empty. None of his old cars were in the drive way, "Pepper" wasn't blaring out of the garage filled with bad ass motorcycles. The boat wasn't there anymore. In other words, he was gone. I remember I lost contact with him for 3 months. He bought a sail boat and was traveling the world until it sunk and he had to buy a plane ticket home. lol. God I miss him. My dumb ass left him for Chris a month after he came home. I guess Marcelo and I would have never really worked out. I mean, he still wore JNCO's for crying out loud. But damn they looked hot wrapped around that tight Brazilian ass of his. Hmmm... I digress.

No I don't. I felt fearless with Marcelo, but he scared the shit out of me. He invited me to go out to the everglades with him and I accepted, but I left the GPS on in my cellphone which I pinned into my bra, gave all his information to my Bestie and left a note at home with his full name, address, telephone number, myspace page, I mean everything. Why? Because he was an Atheist. I know, sounds silly. But there was just something about him. He was a vegetarian who had so much respect for animal life and the environment but such contempt for human life for destroying everything that I really felt that he could take a human life and not feel remorseful for it. Not that I ever gave him reason to want to hurt me. Until I left.

   But we went out that night, watched the full moon rise into the black and purple sky. The moon was blood red. I remember Marcelo telling me that what we were watching was the only place in the world something like that took place. The moon was red because of the sand storms in the Sahara desert kicked up the sand so much that we were actually watching the full moon rise through the sand clouds in another hemisphere. That's why the moon was red. Sure enough the moon paled out as it rose and we laid there watching stars chase each other and talked about our universe. It was poetically romantic feeling so small together feeling the earth spin under our mortal bodies... That was the best summer.

   But in spite of having been so close to the right one, I'm not too bitter. If anything, I'm a bit more hopeful. I know he's out there. Staring in awe at the starry sky above him and the moral law with in him. And he'll know exactly the reference I'm making with that statement too. lol.

   I feel foolish about leaving out the one man that has plagued my dreams for months now. Soon he'll be back in Miami and maybe things will be different between us. For some reason he pops up in my dreams at least once a month, but more often usually. Maybe I'm just being a little too idealistic.

  I'm just trying to make my way in this crazy world. Trying to do the best for my son and I.  And not hurt anyone in the process. . . just goin with the flow.