The Morning After

I woke up this morning and began my morning routine, as I do every morning(hence routine).  Except this time, I think about the loss of my blogger virginity and I realize that it is tantamount to waking up looking at someone new. Inside my mind it is a bustling managerie of questions, vulnerability and...regret?  All of them roaring and squawking to be ackowledged and affirmed.  So what's the answer to silencing the madness? Do it again; remind yourself of the satisfaction that it once provided you with the night before.

But let's back track my morning a little bit and track the "morning after" scenario. I am snuggled into my bed, clutching my body pillow in koala-fashion with my beloved Belley girl(my rhodesian ridge back/brindle boxer who is my most loyal companion in life) sleeping soundly on the side of my bed where my former husband once occupied. We are bitch-slapped into consciousness when my telephone rings at 0730. At first, I answer rather agitatedly until I hear my 3 year old on the other end of the phone,

"Hi Mama!  Do you miss me?"

"Of COURSE Baby! What are you doing this morning"

"Nuffin, Do you miss me lots?"

By this point, my heart has been reduced to a pool of melted  butter and I am choking back tears.  I will never get used to having some weekends alone and having "me time".  I have no one new and neither am I seeking someone new.  Well, that's not entirely truthful.  There is one person that I believe is a man made for me specifically, but that's a topic for another blog. When I became a mother, I signed over all my "me time" to the booger-eaters I committed to raise.  It goes against every motherly instinct which courses through my apron to put them in the car, kiss them goodbye and then go man-shopping.  And the fact of the matter is, I will not do it.  I'm not a super religious person, I believe in a God of some kind and was raised under the influence of christianity, and will most likely pass that to my children, but undoubtedly I believe in Providence.  Providence provided me with my two children and I became mother in heart, mind and reality and I am not going to let any part of the mother die off to pick up my spear and traipse the barstools for a penile replacement.  I want love again, but I won't remake the mother that I am to get it.  As parents, whether we like it or not, our children suffer the consequences of our actions and I will take every possible precaution to spare them that pain. Even though he doesn't love me anymore, I would lie next to him for the next 80 years if he wouldn't walk away just to spare them that pain.  But he is not me.

"I miss you mama, can you come see me now?"

"No baby, mommy can't see you right now, but I will see you in a few days. ok?"

"Ok...(I can just hear the down-turned lip of my estrogen defined child)I love you mama"

"I love you more baby"

"nu-uhhhh, I love you MORE (giggle giggle)"

"NUUUUUH-UHHHHHHH, I love YOU more....Bye baby, Love you to the moon and back"

"Bye miss you love you mama!"

Click. The conversation ends and I find myself having a threesome between me, my empty house and my blog.  All the questions about it being read by the wrong people, all the regrets over bandwagon jumping and all the boilings of vulnerability are all put to silence by the clicks and taps of my keyboard.