Concentrate on having healthy relationships (familial, social, professional, and romantic)

(And a few of you ladies out there as well…you know who you are.)

Make a note.

Tonight, go to your woman. Say, “Take off all of your clothes and lie down on the bed.” She may act surprised, make a joke, or say, “What is the meaning of this?” Tell her gently, “Trust me. Just do it.”

Turn off the bedroom lights. Ask her to roll over onto her stomach. She will not be able to see what you are doing. Get a bottle of good body lotion (perhaps with a natural, not perfumey scent) and give her a massage. On her back. On her arms. On her legs. Don’t forget her feet and hands. Nice, long, soothing, sensual strokes. Get all of the tension out of her back and shoulders. No talking, just soothing.

She may think that you are expecting something in return, and will be thoroughly surprised when you say quietly, “Whenever you’re ready to get up you can go take your shower/a warm bath.” Or pull the covers up, give her a kiss, touch her hair, and walk away.

It’s a nice way to show your woman how you feel about her.

My Man and I have been dating for a year and a half now. We’ve been exclusive since June. I usually do not let him stay the night when my son is here, though I made two exceptions: 1. New Year’s Eve, I didn’t want him on the road with all the drunks (he has a 30 minute drive home on a dangerous road), and 2. Very recently, my son had some friends over and a lot was going on until very late in the night. My bf was here, too, helping with feeding boys and setting up video games and such. The boys were very involved with each other, and it was very late, and we just went to bed upstairs and, yes, slept.

My son says he knows D. stays over and that he sleeps in my room, so what is the difference if D. stays over when he’s there or not? (Those are his words.)

Sometimes I think we’ve been together long enough that it should be something we can start easing into, and other times I do worry about the impact on my son. My parents divorced when I was young and they were much more quick and open about new boyfriends/girlfriends staying the night. (I’m not talking revolving door, it was people that they were going to be dating for at least a few months or even a few years.) I know I would get attached to their boyfriends/girlfriends, and then they would be gone. I’ve been very clear with my son that D. and I care about each other a lot, that he is a very good person, and that we are committed to trying to make this a relationship that works; but also that there are no guarantees in any relationship, and there may come a point when it doesn’t work and we will no longer be together.

He’s also old enough, too, to know about the “private” aspects of an adult relationship. My personal opinion for me (not for you, Dear Readers…if there are any of you left after this long ramble) is that I don’t feel the need to wait until marriage for intimacy (I was already married for a very long time, so I’m not rushing back into it now), but I also am not into casual sex. For me, that comes with a relationship that appears that it will be around for a while at least. He knows that D. and I dated for several months before the first time he stayed over. (This was all part of several conversations my son and I have had, some initiated by him and some by me. I try to answer his questions without sharing too much that is beyond his maturity level.)

Hmmmmm, that’s a very long and convoluted post. Not sure I’m even looking for advice, really. Just typing thoughts that have been rolling around in my head…

So my son pulled a sleepover ambush on me. What I mean is, he said he was inviting his friend over to play video games, and when the friend’s mom dropped him off, she asked, “So what time should I pick him up in the morning?”

?!

I got punk’d.

Enneehoooooo…

He and his friend are sitting in the living room, laughing like crazy as they annihilate each other on the TV screen. My son reaches for the sausage-flavored Pringles Simon sent and says to his friend, “Want some? They’re sausage Pringles from England.” His friend said, astounded, “They have Pringles in England?”

Don’t know why, but I thought that was kinda funny.

I texted My Man not to come over. I was feeling bitchy and moody and didn’t want to subject him to my foul mood. He called me back after my martial arts class and said, what’s up? I explained, and he said, “Wouldn’t a hug make it better? It’s up to you, but shouldn’t we be able to be around each other even when one of us is in a bad mood? Do we have to be in good moods all the time?”

He had a point. So I let him come over, and now we are snuggled on the couch together, and I don’t feel so bitchy anymore.

By the way, he smells really nice.

My son’s skin has been a little dry, and I’m trying to get him to use lotion after he showers to help with that. He’s old enough that he should be the one putting it on, but young enough that he avoids as many steps in the daily hygeine maintenance routine as he can get away with.

So anyway, I brought the bottle of lotion into the bathroom while he was showering, and I said, “Don’t forget to use this after you get out. Look, I bought it because it’s for men.” Thinking, maybe he thinks using lotion is too girly.

Him: “There’s a man in this house?”
Me: “That’s you, baby. You’re the man of the house.”
Him: “Cool! (Then in a deep voice from behind the shower door) Bring me a soda, woman!”
Me: “I regret to inform you that it is not that kind of house.”
Him: “Oh.”
Me: “But I was getting ready to warm up some milk to help you sleep, how ‘bout that?”
Him, cheerily: “OK!”

Does anyone know what became of reignbeaulefem? Her profile is still here, but she’s not been active in a few months. I sent her a message, but got no reply. I don’t know if there’s a reason to worry or not.

I have a soft spot for that girl.

It’s about feeling beholden to anyone.

I hate it.

And it partly comes from the fact that I am just overwhelmed enough with keeping the plates that I already have spinning. I mean, I’m giving and I’m helpful, but there is not a whole lot of me left to give, it seems. So it’s easy for me to feel like the scales of friendship get easily out of balance. Like I owe someone something. Whether they feel that I owe them or not. (There is a history behind this, but I won’t unzip the cover on that bit of psychoanalysis here.)

So after my surgery, My New Man came over to stay with me. He changed the ice in my Slurpee machine. (I don’t know what else to call the gizmo that circulates ice water around my knee). He cooked. He shopped. He washed and folded laundry. He massaged my shoulders. When I said, “Oh, my gawd, I haven’t been able to wash my hair in days, I am so scuzzy!,” he said, “I don’t care. That doesn’t bother me.” When I had a bad reaction to the medication, he listened in while I called the doctor, he researched the meds online, he sat with me late at night in the ER and made sure I was comfy and settled when I got home.

After several days of this, I said, “I feel like you’ve been doing so much for me and I haven’t done even half as much for you.” To which he replied, “I’m not keeping tabs. We’re in a relationship. This is what you do when you’re in a relationship…you just do what needs to be done to support the other person.”

Which was nice. Really nice, in fact.

And, because of the aforementioned past history, I am trying very hard to believe that he is sincere. He seems to be. Now I guess it’s up to me to take it at face value and accept this gift graciously.

So.

My son has been wanting a dog for years now. After the divorce, there was no way, because the place I moved into is too small to be a happy place for a dog.

Three weeks ago he asked if he could have mice. A classmate’s mouse had babies that needed new homes, and they were so cuuuuuuute, Mom!

I considered it. Since my place is too small to be a happy place for a kid his age, either, I thought it would give him something fun to do when he is here, as there are no kids to play with in my neighborhood and no good places to ride bikes or run around. We looked up information on the internet about mice, and found that the life span is 1 1/2 to 3 years (so I won’t be stuck still taking care of mice when I’m a grandmother) and that if you get two girls, they don’t stink and don’t multiply. Repeat – they don’t stink and don’t multiply.

Well, okay then.

He chose two, guaranteed by the classmate’s mother to be two girls, and chose a three-story, colorful, high-end cage as an end-of-the-school-year gift. That was, mmmmmmmm, two and a half weeks ago.

The gestation period for mice is 20 days.

Last night, the stink from the cage was too much, and I told him he had to clean the bedding more frequently. As we were removing the offending fluff we found a cozy little cluster of baby mice buried beneath it, curled up along with the little grey mouse.

And this morning, the little black mouse mysteriously escaped from the bright three-story luxury home, running as fast as its legs could carry it, away from domestic bliss and into the arms of the dark unknown that is the crawl space under my kitchen.

I think I can guess who the father is…

In fact, I just ended a relationship because the gentleman in question repeatedly pushed on and overstepped my boundaries. I was clear about where the line was, clear about my concerns and priorities, clear whenever I didn’t like something. I gave him some chances, gave him the benefit of the doubt, but the man pushed on me one time too many.

When I ended it, he was angry because supposedly I did not sit down and talk with him about it and give him a chance to change.

The fact is, I did talk. You just weren’t listening.

take things at face value and don’t project past experiences onto current situations. Reading too much into an exchange is emotionally draining, pointless, and a waste of energy. Besides, we are all responsible for stating our own needs. It is not up to me to second guess what another person’s ‘real meaning’ might be, it is up to that person to clearly state it.

Boy, this goal seems to be very interconnected with this one.