I Just Looked Away For A Second

***Disclaimer:  This is actually a post I wrote a few years ago.  Several conversations I've had recently made me think it might be interesting to some folks now. 

***Another Disclaimer:  This post was originally inspired by nothing specific except for years of musing on the topic and possibly a Tori Amos song.  

Sometimes we, as coupled folks, get our heads turned.  You know what I mean by "heads turned", right?  We get, shall we say, distracted by someone that is not our partner.  Maybe it lasts for a dance or a song or a drink.  Or maybe it's a little more durable - it becomes a crush.  This person is not your partner.  You don't pick their dirty undies off the floor.  You don't bicker with them over the little things...or the big things.  They can be anything you want them to be.  And so, our heads are turned.  

It's natural, normal, human for us to turn around for someone else every now and then.  Fidelity is a gift we give our partners.  I certainly wouldn't say it comes naturally.  It's work.  It's hard.  Often, we fail.   Having our heads turned is almost like a get-out-of-jail-free card.   As long as you don't act on it.  

Tim and I made a deal a long time ago that we would tell each other about our crushes.   (And if anyone tries to tell me that they've never had a crush on anyone else other than their partner, I will openly call them a liar.)   I think this seems like a good thing.  When you talk about it with your partner, they are now part of that world.   Nothing is secretive, nothing is hidden.  And who knows?  Maybe you might have a little fun with it.   Depending.    

Because having your head turned can be really quite exciting, can't it?  The fantasy of someone you don't know well.  The imagining of who they might be, who you want them to be, how the two of you could be.  The not knowing.   Ah, the delicious taste of ambiguity.

Hottie Hot Hot!

"I think I reached my hotness plateau awhile back, and I'm now on a slow & steady decline from here on out," I said to Tim a few weeks back.

He disagreed because he is a good man.  (He is also not stupid.)

I feel like it's true though.  And it pisses me off.  Aging is brutal - especially when you have lived the (ahem) party girl lifestyle that I have led.  And don't even get me started on having a damn baby.  Your body isn't for you (or your partner) anymore, that's for sure.  And as the years go by, it seems to take a lot more time, money and energy to make myself look halfway decent when 5 or 6 years ago, I rolled out of bed looking pretty damn cute. 

This decline of hotness also seems to be in direct correlation with the decline of men hitting on me.  I mean, yeah, I'm married and I have a kid an all that, but STILL.  It's nice to be hit on once in awhile, right?  It's always nice to know that someone besides your husband finds you attractive.  And maybe, as a liberated woman, I shouldn't say this out loud, but it feels a little like validation.  Or at least it makes me feel like the 2 hours and 45 minutes I spent getting ready were worth it. 

Which leads me to last night....

I went to a party last night.  A work party.  I did not plan on staying out for long.  I didn't think much of it really.  I still spent some time trying to improve my hotness, but nothing crazy.  Well, I did get a spray tan, but so what?  I'm in Austin!

I don't know if it's because SXSW is like Spring Break for grown-ups.  (And geeks.)  I don't know if it's because I was away from my every day life, or if it's because my tramp stamp lower-back tattoo was peeking out of my jeans.  Or maybe it was simply the 4 glasses of wine I had on a empty stomach.  Whatever the reason, it was a good night for hotness.  I was asked for my number three times.  Two different guys asked me to have drinks with them after the party was over.  And another guy - out of the blue - said to me, "You are really sexy."  I wasn't even flirting with him.  No, seriously.

And, later that night, alone in my hotel room after leaving the party alone (hello, I'm married!), I realized something.  Hotness is a state of mind. 

And I am back on the upward climb.

Love Is Love.

My Boo said, "Love you", to me for the first time a few days ago.  Yes, I know he was merely repeating what I had said to him.  I know he didn't really understand the meaning behind his words.  I know this.  But it still completely crushed me.  It was pretty much the best thing ever.  (Especially when I had a deep, dark fear that the first time he said it, it would be to his beloved nanny.)

Boo's mimicking of my declaration of love made me think about the other people he loves now - whether he knows it or not - and the people he will love in the future.  And then I started crying - but not for Will - for all of the people through the years that have not been able to love openly or honestly because of society's views or their parents' opinions or the government's restrictions.

It seems ridiculous, doesn't it?  Why would anyone, ever, want to stop someone from loving?  More love in this crazy world can only be a good thing.  Right?  How did - and how do - these folks justify the idea that not everyone deserves to find & celebrate their love of another person?

My son will grow up in a family, in a household, where he can love anyone he chooses.  And I am proud to say that he will now grow up in a state where the majority officially believe that as well.  Love is love.

And someday, many years in the future, my Boo will say, "Love you", to another in front of those he loves & who love him.  It will not be repetition.  It will not be his sweet love for his mother.  It will not be the puppy love of a preteen.  It will be the real & true, heart-pounding, tummy butterfly-causing, crazy love that fills us up and inspires us and makes us better people.  And we will celebrate.  

Ain't love grand?  

Do Something

I have an emotional hangover from today's YouthCare annual luncheon.  If you are not familiar with the work of this amazing nonprofit, it's time you remedied that. 
I took a 2-hour break from my good job and my comfortable life to hear the stories of three kids that would move me to tears.  Abuse, neglect, life on the street, suicide, depression, rape, human trafficking - the things these kids have endured in their short lives pains me.  I was physically in pain listening to them speak, and when I left the event, I felt vaguely sick.  I couldn't, and can't, do my usual compartmentalizing.  I cannot let this go. 

Although I have always considered myself to be an empathatic, compassionate person, I don't think this piece of myself had fully evolved until I had Will.  As a mother, I seem to *feel* in a different way than before.  Today, I heard a mother tell the story of her teenage daughter being prostituted and, basically, enslaved right here in Seattle.  Their family could be my family, your family.  I cried - and not just a few tears - I CRIED as I listened to her words.  What would I do if.... I literally cannot even write it. 

As difficult as it is to hear these stories, we MUST hear them.  We must listen and learn.  We cannot insulate ourselves and our children from the realities of the world.  We must teach our children empathy and compassion, and we must show them that we CAN effect change.   

And change doesn't come from dreaming. 

It comes from doing.

A Time For Kindness

Let's talk human decency for a minute, mmm'kay? 

Today I was shopping at a Giant Fabric Store Chain, and I watched a frazzled Mommy as she moved around the store.  She was disheveled, wearing sweats & a pony, and she had a crazed look in her eye.  She was having One Of Those Days.  Her young son, maybe 5 years old, rode in the cart eating a yogurt, oblivious to the fact that his mother was teetering on the edge. 

And then it happened.

Her son dropped the yogurt.  It spilled upside down in the cart.  It dripped all over the bolt of fabric she had stowed underneath.  And Mommy lost it. 

First, she began to cry.  Then she snapped at her kid - nothing major, just a bit of a, "Oh, Johnny, come ON already."  And then she looked around the store maniacally. 

I could read her thought process as she took inventory of the situation.

"What do I do now?  Do I try and clean this up?  Did anyone see that happen?  Do I just abandon my cart and leave the store?  Do I offer to pay?  Do I apologize profusely and hope this problem goes away?  Can I keep my tears under control?  Can I keep my head explosion under control?"

She opted to find some paper towels and started cleaning up the fabric as well as the yogurt-covered floor.  I watched as 3 salesclerks watch her do this.  I offered to help her, but she declined as she continued to cry.  She was CRYING, folks.  She was barely holding it together. 

I've been this woman.  You've been this woman.  I don't care if you have kids or not, you've been this woman.

And the clerks just watch this unfold.  They did not offer to help. They did not let her know that, really, this is no big deal.  They just watched her as her nightmare unfolded.

After she had cleaned everything up, she asked how much she should pay to cover the damage that her son had caused.  The clerk said, "I think that 3 yards will cover it"

Are you effing kidding me?

You are going to charge this woman for 3 yards?  Where is your compassion?  Where is your sense of what's right?  And frankly, where is your customer service? 

The total she was charged was around $15.00.  In the grand scope of this business' finances, $15.00 is nothing.  Hell, in the scope of this business' DAY, $15.00 is nothing. 

But think about how much a little kindness would have meant to this woman.  Think about how a little compassion and understanding may have calmed her down, been a balm to her embarrassment, and brought a little perspective to the whole situation.

Shame on you, Giant Fabric Store Chain. 

P.S.  I think I got them back by raising a bit stink when I insisted I was overcharged for my purchase (nope) and demanded to see a manager to walk me through my receipt item by item.  Or I just looked like a complete idiot.  One or the other.