Things That Are Challenging

by

Wrangling four boys at the farmer’s market, feeding dinner, entertaining, and then doing the hand off of two to a mom whilst in the middle of Mission Mini birthday cupcake havoc.

I made it through.

And now it’s bedtime.

And I don’t have to do anything but sit quietly and relax.

I want to be doing something, tidying, picking up, laundry, but I also expended so much energy between 3p.m. and 7 p.m. with the four boys and then an additional amount of super hero nanny powers combatting post sugar melt down with pajama, story, and bed time, that I am not going to do anything but look at shoes on-line.

I’m not ordering anything.

I’m zoning out.

Yeah.

I know.

I am weird.

It happens to me occasionally that I zone out by looking at shoes, scrolling the pages of this site or that, I have large feet so it’s not actually something that pans out well for me.

I spend a lot of time applying filters and before you know it I have wasted a half hour finding a mythical pair of shoes that is out of stock anyway and I couldn’t afford it I actually wanted them.

I don’t want the shoes, I want the fantasy of what I’ll do in the shoes.

Because you know, if I find the right pair of shoes, happiness is guaranteed.

In case you were wondering, yes, I did grow up in the United States of Consumerism.

However, I don’t consume nearly that much, not as much as the average bear, that’s for sure, and I keep it fairly small when I do.

I spend most money on eating well, paying rent, repaying student loans, and experiences.

I do, don’t get me wrong, love a good pair of shoes or a new dress, who doesn’t?

But sometimes, I think I’m just checking out to give the brain a moment to pause and not think about what is happening or to take a break from the mental gymnastics I have a tendency to perform.

And too.

Today was just an off kilter day.

I didn’t start until 1:30 p.m.

I felt discombobulated from sleeping in and it took a while for me to get started.

I did write a lot this morning though and that felt good.

Four pages long hand and then, yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, I started writing out some Christmas cards.

I like sending out cards, it makes me feel good to take a moment, think of that person or persons or family, and wrap the card up with a big hug and stamp it and maybe put a little embossed sticker on the envelope and send it off in the postal box.

I dropped ten in the mail today.

I usually send out between fifteen and twenty.

Sometimes a few more.

I went through my first round of obvious recipients, now I have to dig out the addresses of those folks that I love to send a card to, but don’t have their address readily at hand.

Rather than in my iphone, I have an old address book in yes, my Filofax.

Yup.

I have a Filofax.

I had two, but my first got so beat up some girlfriends back in Madison teamed up and got me a new one for Christmas or perhaps it was for my birthday, the year before I moved out to San Francisco.

My birthday is two weeks from today.

I got a text from the boyfriend earlier today.

Said text coming at a really nice time in the day, when I was getting ready to scoop all four boys up and head to the Farmer’s Market on Bartlett and 22nd.

I needed a pick me up and the Universe sent me one.

Basically it was to let me know that he would need me ready and in his car by 7:15 p.m. on the night of the 18th.

My birthday.

I guess I have a date.

I have a date on my birthday.

I went horseback riding last year with two of my darling girlfriends.

The year before that I was in Paris and got to get a jackalope tattoo from my room-mate and tattoo artist friend who was working at Abraxas, then we met fellows at the American Church and after went for a dinner at his favorite cafe in the Menilmontant neighborhood, the 20th arrondisement, or Belleville area or Paris (The Red Balloon was filmed there).

I don’t know where we’re going, it’s a surprise, but I do so like that plans have been made.

He also asked me what I wanted for Christmas.

Gah.

For him to read my mind.

I had to sit on that text for a while.

I already have gotten him his Christmas present.

I knew it the moment I saw it and I bought it for him.

I got it at Paxton Gate.

I asked the sales clerk the odds of them having more of the item in stock if I did not buy it the day I saw it, would they have it available, would they be ordering more.

She said no and I said, ring up the sale.

To have my boyfriend ask me what I wanted was uncomfortable and I knew I had to actually give an answer.

I don’t like asking for things.

I never have.

But I knew it was appropriate to respond and let him know.

I gave him a short list, nothing actually very specific, earrings, perfume, pretty lingerie, flowers, things in the bunny motif, I like rabbits, things that are cozy.

Ugh.

I like being given gifts, don’t get me wrong, I just don’t like telling people what I want.

I want to make myself small and unnoticeable.

That is old hat.

And there is nothing wrong with telling the man I am with what I like.

He wants to know.

He’s under no obligation to get me anything and yet, I know he is and regardless of what I get, I shall be pleased.

It’s a nice feeling being with someone who wants to make plans with me on my birthday and wants to know what I like.

That itself is already such a gift.

It seems almost too much to ask for more than that.

Presents.

I have already been given so much.

The awareness of my fortune may be enough.

Although I will happily receive presents should they coalesce.

It’s not nice to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Or a boyfriend.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: