A Sweet Offer

I’m not having any Julie Andrews fantasies here; this isn’t the Sound of Music. It would sure help my self-esteem if Monsieur would just throw me down on my bed, rip off my nightgown and plow me like he’s a cultivator tool and I’m five acres of rich bottom land.

On the plus side, Middle Boy has asked me for my hand in matrimony.

Well, he wasn’t quite so formal; rather he said, “Can I be your husband?”

Of course I had to turn him down. But how?

“Oh, [Middle Boy] I’m sure you’d make a wonderful husband. But I’m not really old enough to be married right now.”

“When will you be old enough?”

“Maybe when I’m fifty or so.”

“Fifty is old.”

“Yeah, it is. I think you should try with someone who wants to get married when you’re ready for it, and don’t wait for me.”

Biggest Boy piped up. “[Middle Boy], you’re not gonna get married.”

“I am too. I’m gonna be a guy, and drive a car and be a daddy and a husband too!” his little voice squeaked.

“Oh, you are not,” Biggest Boy said.

Screamed, “I AM!!! I’m gonna be a Husband!!!! ”

Of course, I am the voice of reason. “[Middle Boy], you can be whatever you want: a daddy, a husband, or a truck driver. Right now, you’re a big brother AND a little brother, and it’s time for you to brush your teeth.”

As Usual, Sex Rears its Swollen, Pulsating Head.

He nailed me the other night. Monsieur, that is. I was so happy just to get rid of the tension and yet right afterwards he said to me, “It can not happen any more. Never again.”

Never again. Damn.

Oh, he made these noises and all about how it would be upsetting for the children, and it would be too soon for him but still. Damn.

Doesn’t he need it? Of course he’s mourning. I knew it would get sticky and complicated if I stayed here. But if he kicks me out I’ll die.

But I gotta tell you, blog o’ mine. It was … wonderful. Delicious.

And, he’s hung like the freaking Louisiana Purchase.

Work is the Curse of the Drinking Class

I haven’t blogged in a while.

I found a job, and I have decided to quit drinking.

The job is at this diner; not a bad place, and very family friendly. I like it. I’m the Yearning Heart, and I’ll be your waitress this evening.

The no-drinking thing has been a pretty easy decision. I just don’t have time to get drunk. These kids get me up at 7 AM.

And it begins again. Here comes the baby.

Should I Stay? Should I Go?

I have $800 saved. I need to find my own place.

Kind as he is I doubt D will let me live here forever.

I just threw my backpack and suitcase in the spare bedroom and got to work.

I need to find a job. Back to waitressing. I need to cover those damn debts. I can’t ask D for money; not now. We never talked about it he just called me back and said, “OK, you’re right, I need your help.” I don’t think he could pay for everything eyond food & rent. I’m not having any Julie Andrews fantasies here

Road Trip

We went to Houston to visit M’s parents. I know her mom had some reservations about me but when she saw me she didn’t say anything catty or rude, she was very gracious.

Her dad was really cool. He’s still really shaken up about M’s passing. Understandably. I can’t imagine how it must feel for a daddy to be at his little girl’s funeral.

We stayed at a hotel. I slept in the bed with Middle Boy and the other two boys slept with their daddy.

One night, their daddy kissed me. On the forehead, but I nearly fainted. I thought he was angry or impatient with me, so I said “Monsieur (I call him ‘monsieur’) I’m sorry if I did anything to make you mad,” and he said, “Dear lady, do not trouble yourself, I am out of sorts,” and he took my face in his warm hands and kissed me on the forehead.

I damn near creamed to death. I feel like I’m 16 and a groupie. ‘EEEEEK!’

We went to NASA, which the big boys loved. We just got back today. Whew.

Aching for Him

Yes, I want him, so much, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. (Who’d lie to a blog?)

Is the age difference is a big deal? I’m 24 and he’s 42. I just had a birthday. May 21.

If he doesn’t want me I would be okay with that too. I just want to help watch the boys as long as they need someone, really. Just change & pick up the baby, help the big boys. Right now they call me Aunt Peppermint, or Pepper.

I’m scared of only two things

1. I’d not be good at it, not be enough help.
2. What would people think?

I just don’t want his family to be angry with me

I feel like M is watching me.