Half Baked

Hello, Friends.  You know what I realized early into this blogging business?  Besides being a creative outlet, (which this desperate housewife needs) you, my readers, are saving me a fortune in therapy! Ha! It's true.  I can just lay my issues out there...like diarrhea of the fingers (nice imagery, I know) and once it's floating out there in cyber space for people in Russia, the UK, or Brazil (don't get excited...like one person from each country) to read, a little chunk of the weight on my shoulders chips away.  

Not everyone enjoys this airing of dirty laundry.  My very lovely, very private mother would sooner get a colonoscopy Katie Couric style than broadcast her inner thoughts to the world.  My husband, has more boundaries than Guantanamo Bay.  Just shopping at Walmart is a massive invasion of his personal space.  But, he knows who he married and adores me just the way I am; hormone fueled bouts of catharsis and all.  I know...I sound delightful to live with. But hey, Mr. "I am an island" isn't exactly a bowl full of cherries either.  The way I see it, we fit together quite nicely. If we were too much alike, we'd both be going all Chicken Little at the same time, "The sky is falling!" Someone has got to keep their feet on the ground around here.

Do you ever wake up and just have a sneaky feeling that the day ain't gonna be so good?  Yep, me too.  It felt as if my body got up, no problemo, but my head decided not to follow suit this morning. If I am going to feel this foggy, I thought, shouldn't I at least have some crazy pictures of the bad decisions I made the night before to show for it?? And, if I feel like this in my thirties, that DOES NOT bode well for the elderly version of Kate!  But, truth be told, I can not complain about my body this week.  I even made it to the gym every day...er...at least until I was too sore to move. The dreaded mono is gone and I am feeling pretty spry (if a little fuzzy).  

After a busy day of shuffling around the kids and trying to keep them away from Daddy's office while he was hard at work doing important office things, I was more than ready for a trough of ice cream (Ladies, I don't need to explain) and a couple of Advil.  Instead, I got a phone call from a friend. Not a good one.  The kind that makes you sit down wherever you are and try not to let the feelings churning in the pit of your stomach explode.  As grown ups, we all get those calls and we hope that they are few and far between. I am not naive and I know that the next couple of decades will be full of their fair (or should I say, unfair) share of bad phone calls.  It is the nature of this world we live in...which is why as a Christian, I believe that here is not truly our home.  Tonight, there is nothing to do but finish the trough of ice cream (they really should reconsider the size of those Ben and Jerry's containers which are clearly made by men), have a good cry, and pray.  I will try not to do them all at the same time...ugly.  

Let someone know if you are in need of prayer.  As a praying person, I can tell you that it is much easier to pray for someone else, than it is to talk about my junk.  And if you are not praying, starting with somebody you love is so much easier than you might think. 

To leave you on a lighter note, as Lulu was struggling to get her nightgown on at bedtime, I overheard her talking to herself.  My four year old muttered under her breath, "Why is everything so hard for me!  This is just so hard!"  

I smiled, and thought, "Honey, I know just what you mean.  And it doesn't get any easier!" 


 

Tres metros sobre el cielo

Based on the title of this post, I'll bet you were thinking you accidentally clicked on a link to a Spanish speaking blog.  ¿Es correcto? Relax!  You've come to the right place.  Sadly, my Spanish only gets me as far as what my brain remembers from middle school Spanish, with grumpy Senora Garcia.  High school is all a blur.  So basically, I can call someone "an idiota!", admire someone's "pantalones", or introduce myself, "Me llamo Catalina!"  Beyond that, I'm screwed.  My limitations became especially apparent the other day, when 15 (yes 15), Spanish speaking men wanted to hop in my car, thinking that I was looking for hired help.  It was raining that day, so I'm guessing construction work was hard to come by. In reality, I had pulled over in the Home Depot parking lot because I was hopelessly lost on a quest to find our new dentist's office.  I sweetly tried to explain that I was going to the dentist, "Trust me! You really don't want to come!" but it was lost in translation.  How I envy those who are bilingual (my husband, for one).  I wish that I had pushed harder for him to speak Macedonian to our children after they were born.  

For now, I shall content myself with watching foreign movies from time to time.  It is this stay at home mother's best effort at experiencing "culture" on a dime.  This weekend, I was desperately flipping through channels (there isn't much I haven't seen lately) to no avail, when I finally settled on a Spanish film, "Tres Metros Sobre El Cielo".  I am a sucker for a good love story, and it's so rare to find one on our five hundred channels.  One look at the description (bad boy meets good girl and they fall in love cliche) and I was hooked!  Yes, I am that easy.  The movie was filmed in Barcelona, Spain and stars two young Spanish actors, Mario Casas and Maria Valverde, who do an exceptional job with the stereotypical teenage drama they were asked to portray.  Mario plays "H", a motor cycle riding, drag racing, angry at the world, teenage a-hole who is just looking for trouble.  Maria (his real-life love interest), plays sweet Babi, a daddy's girl, who discovers how much fun it can be to break the rules every once in awhile after meeting H, a mother's nightmare.

Now, I know...I know... that I should be horrified by this story, trembling at the thought of a guy like "H" strolling into my daughters' lives one day.  Just the idea of Lulu or Savannah (let's be honest, Lulu) riding 200 miles an hour on the back of a crotch rocket with some beefcake and I begin to mutter things like, "Please, God, no!" But, in the same breath, I have to confess...I am remembering my own delicious, teen drama, and the bad boy who starred in it.  You see, this movie, up until the last terrible 15 minutes, was my life.  

And the drag racing, angry at the world, teenage a-hole?? Well, he currently resides on my living room sofa at the end of every day. He is not so bad anymore, and really quite lovely.  He doesn't engage in fistfights in parking lots to defend my "honor"anymore, but I'd still never take him to a high school reunion (too risky!) He traded in his cherry red Trans Am for a Lexus SUV with two car seats in the back seat, along with a collection of coloring books and gold fish remnants.  And the "H" stands for Hubby these days. 

Hubby walked in to the bedroom Saturday night, where I was completely absorbed in this Spanish love story, and looked at me quizzically.  

Him: "Whatcha doing?" 

Me: "Watching this wonderful movie!!" 

Him: "You do realize that you don't speak Spanish."

Me: "Yes! But some things transcend language barriers."

Him: "Wow...you're pretty bored these days, huh?"

Me: "Stop talking!  You should really watch this!"

Needless to say, he did not.  When the movie had ended, I headed for the living room sofa and ruffled his hair, lovingly.  I kissed the top of his head several times.

Him: "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Me: "I'm happy."

Him: "About what?"

Me: "That we were so crazy...crazy enough to stay together when statistically we had no chance at all."

Him: "Okay! Love you."

You see that's the great thing about loving one person for so long.  You have the opportunity to fall in love all over again, as often as you like! The fluttering you still feel in your stomach after sixteen years, makes all of the hardship you've survived, totally worth it.   Do I wish for my girls to have the same experience as we did?  No, and Hubby would agree.  The journey to the alter is much less complicated when you are not an adolescent.  We want them to be mature, knowledgeable women, who are comfortable in their own skin when they fall in love.  But, it was our path...our journey...and I would not trade a single second of it. Besides becoming parents, this love is the single, greatest accomplishment of our lives.  

Are you ready for the best news EVER? If you too are a total cheeseball, who goes nuts for a good love story, you can find "Tres Metros" on HBO on Demand.  If you do not have HBO, go to someone's house who does and harass them until they agree to record it for you.  It gets even better.  There is a sequel, ladies!  The "H" and Babi drama continues in the film, "Tengo Ganas De Ti"...and in like, two years, it may finally be available to watch with English subtitles! Calm down...calm down.  

Have you seen any good movies lately? Please share!