I think it goes without saying that I don’t believe in miracles. I think that what we have or what happens to us is one part sweat and one part who you know and one part preparation and maybe less than one part dumb luck. You know, being in the right place at the right time or a moment of unusual bravery and/or panic that ended up being well-placed.
Do you ever have one of those days where everything goes right? As often as everything goes horribly wrong do we even remember the good days when they happen?
I’m writing this down in hopes of having a record of my really great day so that when it happens again, I’ll be able to begin looking for a pattern. As geeky as that sounds, I’d really like to have something to look forward to.
My mom was in town and crashed at my house for a few days. She called it a vacation. And, deep down, I don’t mind. I really don’t. I like the company and she always (and I mean always) makes herself useful. It wasn’t always this way of course. There were many, many times that she would come to visit and plant herself on the couch with the baby and whine to go shopping. These days, she’s a flurry of activity.
Our morning activity was to take the littles to the chocolate factory. Turns out, there’s a full-fledged chocolate factory less than 20 miles from my house. A very delicious way to start the day.
Upon returning from our chocolate quest, she made lunch for herself and the littles while I went grocery shopping. Alone.
I know. That in itself is a win for Team Mommy.
I came home from the shopping trip to find the washing machine going and the littles busy cleaning their room before rest time.
I had decided days ago that it was high time I got myself something pretty. I’ve been trying to get out and get social and I think (but don’t know for sure) that such activity requires more than my mom uniform of solid colored t-shirts and track shorts/pants. It’s an investment in my self-esteem. Or, so I say. So we took the littles and went shopping.
Two significant things happened on this particular shopping trip. First, the littles got nothing. I’m good for blowing time and money on them and not on myself. Had my mother not been there, I may have fallen into the old pattern. And second, everything I tried on fit. Everything. I either have a realistic sense of my own body or the stars aligned just right. For less than a hundred I got two shirts, a swimsuit, a dress (!) and a pair of earrings to match the dress.
We got home from shopping and I started supper: chicken fried steak fingers, mashed potatoes and gravy and fresh sweet corn. While I was cooking my darling mom asked if I wanted a few hours out.
Yes. Yes, I would. One could maybe call this a miracle.
Made a few phone calls and made plans to meet friends out.
One friend in particular. And this is big.
Wait for it.
I have been seeing someone. It hasn’t been for very long (relatively) so I’m trying not to get too excited but…
I’m pretty excited. It’s been a long, long time since I dated. More than a decade anyway. And dating is different in the age of Facebook and texting and itunes. It’s also very different when it’s not under the unicorns and glitter cloud of love in your twenties with your whole life and dreams of family ahead. I am different. Older, for sure. Wiser. More than a little bit jaded. Cautious. A tiny bit guilty. Somewhat selfish but in, I think, a healthy way.
Oh, but the glitter is still there. And the flutters and the pacing and the playlist set to “sappy” (except this time I don’t have to wait for the song to come onto the radio or for somebody to make me a mix tape). I still had sweaty palms and, at the end of the day, I didn’t want to untangle myself from his embrace and head for home.
That much hasn’t changed.
Last night, I introduced him to several of my asshole friends (my asshole LOCAL friends) to an enthusiastic end. And, like I knew he would, he fit right in.
I couldn’t stop smiling. And the feelings are, very obviously, mutual.
I don’t know how this chapter ends but, and don’t hold me to this, I think it might be a long story.