But I was strong. I persevered.
And you all will be surprised when I tell you that the reason I was ALMOST ugly-crying was not because of Maggie.
It was Billy Ray Cyrus.
And I was on the elliptical machine at the gym.
And I heard actually myself snort/chortle/choke-up with my headphones on.
I was mere seconds away from having my face squish up into that mutant-cry-face.
I was that close to the ugly cry.
I was watching his reality show on families being reunited after someone is deployed.
Seriously, that show is flippin' ridiculous.
But then I remember this, and I immediately stopped crying:
|There are no words. [Source]|
So it's been kind of quiet around here.
Which, I guess, is a good thing.
I've had enough action for my lifetime. (Get your heads out of the gutter, you know what I mean).
It's been hot and so I've been laying low.
I've been feeling emotionally good.
I had some great company on Friday night withs some girlfriends. And laughed really hard. Like can't breathe hard. Don't you love that?
We were those obnoxious people in the corner booth that wouldn't leave.
My heart needed it.
And, I am so glad that Maggie heard my laughter instead of just my tears.
Dave is at K State for a few days at a Vet conference.
So I am single again for a few days.
Kind of nice, kind of not.
Here's a run-down on how I feel about being alone for the next few days:
- I can spread out in bed. Long story short: our a.c. has not worked all summer (a.c. guy is coming tomorrow morning) and Dave is a blast furnace- he exudes
heathotness (read: both ways). It's been so nice to be able to lay in bed and spread out so that my skins don't stick to each other (sidenote- peeling your sticky, sweaty leg skin off of a leather couch is maybe one of the worst things a woman can do for her self-esteem, no matter what your weight. The sound is just ego-crushing.).
- His phone alarm does not go off 45 times before he gets out of bed.
- I can watch what I want on TV. No lame-o movies on FX that he has seen 73 times. And still insists on watching over and over and over and over again because he hasn't seen "this one part."
- I eat crap. Like I've eaten about a pound of strawberries and 2 bowls of Cheerios since he's been gone. I'm pretty sure that if I were still single I would weigh 5 pounds or 500 pounds (the drive-thrus were calling my name but I resisted).
- It is not all that fun coming home and talking to your fat, lazy cat who is only hanging around with you because she knows you are going to feed her at some point.
- I'm lonely and I miss him and his jokes that are so dumb or inappropriate that I have to laugh.
I am at training all week for school, which is a good thing since it keeps my mind busy. And the air conditioning was heaven. There was no thigh-stickage on the chairs for almost the whole day. Holla!
There was only one time today when I panicked a bit.
First, let me preface all of this:
Ever since Maggie died I kind of hate meeting new people. Not completely. Just kind of.
I dread the "Do you have kids?" or "How many kids do you have?" questions.
I have no freaking idea how to answer them.
Do I take the easy route and say, "No, I don't have any kids." But when I imagine myself saying this, I imagine Maggie listening down on me. I imagine her saying, "What about me, mama?" That answer is like a kick in the gut to her. And to me.
It denies her existence. And her importance. And, I want to tell people about her even though it makes people uncomfortable.
But, that answer is way easier for me and way, way easier for the poor little person who unknowingly just asked that question innocently.
My other option is to say, "Yes, but she passed away/died/was stillborn/is in heaven/fill-in-the-blank- with-acceptable-phrase-that-means-the-same-thing-as-dead."
But, folks? Let me just tell you, that has potential to be super awkward. Like almost as awkward as when a student tells you her parents like to look at "naked yoga magazines." Or when someone calls and asks if it's okay if their dog just ate their son's toenails off his plate at Christmas dinner (there are so many things wrong with this at so many levels). What do you say in response to that? (By the way, you can't make this stuff up,)
So, the conundrum I am in is--what do I say to questions like this about having kids? What do other parents say who have experienced this? Do I go for least awkward or most honest?
Now, back to my day at training...
The trainer lady was having us stand up and sit down for things that applied to us (Take off if you teach elementary school or Take off if you wasted way too many hours of your life watching Real Housewives of Orange County last night and loved every second (FYI, I stood up for both).
We kept playing this fun little game and I was just waiting for the kid part.
I'm a pro at ignoring this part of the get-to-know-you-activities. I've hated the kid question for years.
And, of course, it came.
How many of you have kids at home?
All of this is going on in my head:
Panic. Panic. Oh no. Do I stand? Do I sit? What should I do. Will people think I'm strange if I stand and they know Maggie died? Is Maggie watching? Is she going to be so ticked that I didn't stand up for her? Does she even care? Do dead children count as 'kids at home'? I mean technically she is at home, I guess.
And, I just sit there. With my head down. Ashamed. I had no idea what to do. And I didn't want to see if others were watching me (I'm pretty sure no one even thought about this except me). And, I didn't want to see how many people had the joy of going home to their children. I didn't want to see that I was one of the only ones who sat there.
Heart. Breaking. Again.