I just want to take my balloons and go home. 


My tiny dog was taken by a coyote.  

My husband went to urgent care for a reaction to medication.  (Surprise, surprise). 

My kids already have a shit ton of homework. 

I’m fighting a kidney infection. 

The baby is teething. 

My check engine light came on in the car. 

Half my clients are new which is hard. 

My phone broke and I had to get a new one. 

My son put a passcode on his iPod and forgot it. 

My alarm system keeps setting itself off. Quite scary in the middle of the night I might add. 

My daughters friend died her hair at my house and ruined my carpet and *TRIED* telling her mom that I said they could.  Ummmm yeah that didn’t fly with me. 

My neighbor has decided he’s going to grow pot and my house stinks now because my AC unit is outside by the fence. 

Oh and I’m still in love with HIM. 

I need a massage.  


Five years

Five years. Five years ago today. Five years ago I posted a post on Craigslist saying I wanted to only talk to someone in my same boat.  Someone who was married and felt alone.  Someone who lacked that loving partner.  Someone who just wanted a friendly distraction from everyday life. Someone who wanted to only talk. No strings. No sex. No nothing. Just conversation.   He replied.   

See, I wasn’t looking to cheat. Truly.  I wasn’t looking to hook up.  Having an affair wasn’t on my agenda.  I was just so lonely.  I wanted to hear someone else felt the same.  Someone else just needed an ear. Someone else had hopes, dreams and desires in life that someone cared to hear about.  He replied.  

And it’s never stopped.  It’s changed- a lot. But it’s never stopped.  There was a huge gap in conversation when his wife found out and it nearly killed me.  I don’t have to have him, though I’d love to.  I don’t have to touch him, though I’d adore to. What I need is to see his words in text. Know he’s okay. Know he thinks of me and know he will never forget ‘us’.  And he does. Every. Single. Day.   Our marriages are in the same place. Our lives are in the same place. Our families are in the same place. The only thing new is everyday the conversations we have.  Until today. Today I saw him.  Today I welcomed his hug and became numb with his kiss.  I got to see him.  I talk to him everyday, but today I got to see him. Today of all days.  It’s been five years since he replied that very first time. Five years of laughter, tears, love and heartbreak.  Five years of loving someone you can’t have.  Five years of meaningful things like a song, the moon, a gesture or the color red.  I’ve never loved anyone more.   Ever. 



It’s a quiet evening.  My kids played their sports today.  I did the mom thing.  You know where you get the kids to the fields with all their crap, your chair to watch, the dogs, the baby, the umbrella the Starbucks, (yes the Starbucks) and you sit down and realize you forgot your phone, or sunglasses or sunblock?  Yes to all of the above.  You look down to remove your flip flop to put your toes in the warm soft grass and realize your flip flop has baby puke on it, causing you to look at the baby and then look at the trail of puke running from her perfect smile all down your front when THAT mom (you know the mom) walks up to you to hand you the snack schedule.  Her and her snack schedule that is printed on her personalized stationary with her little C for Crissy or something prissy at the top.  You know, the puke free paper.  Pissy I mean Crissy looks at your baby and says, “What a beautiful baby girl, I sure don’t miss THOSE days as she sees the puke that is running down your miss buttoned shirt.  This my friends is Karma.   Karma has taken a big huge bite out of my ass for having my shit together a year ago at the football fields and being a Crissy.  This newborn thing, (okay she is five months old) is harder at 40 than it was at 26.  I promise when my Crissy status returns to offer to hold, help and tell my puke covered stories to the moms that look as if they want to run into traffic with their daughters lacrosse stick screaming.

On a more psycho note I threw a coffee cup at my husbands truck.

Yeah I’m not sure where my common sense has gone.   I think it may have fallen out of my vagina five months ago when I gave birth to my daughter.   I was in the driveway and he was in the garage.  The lawn guy had put all my flowers that he was going to plant that day on the edge of the driveway up by the garage door next to the flower bed and yep, you guessed it.  My husband pulled out of the drive way and ran over $310 dollars worth of flowers. He couldn’t hear me or the flower squashing apparently with his fucking death metal music on, (yes he still listens to that crap) and I swear it was reflexes.  My coffee cup flung.  I don’t know what shocked me more.  The fact that I threw it or the fact that my lawn guy looked like he shit his pants because he was the fucking moron who put the flowers in front of the garage door.  Now, my husbands truck is a work truck, aka a piece so it wasn’t a big deal but my point is LOOK.   He swears he couldn’t see them, I say our kids play in the driveway all the time.  Know what is in front of you or behind you prior to putting your car in drive.  I’m telling you absolutely all respect after affairs and pills and everything else has flown out the window in this relationship.

In the world of HIM, he is getting a new job that he starts Monday.  I haven’t seen him in FOREVER, seriously forever but we still talk.  Right or wrong it is my sanity.  Normal conversation.  How are you?  How was your day?  How was your weekend?  Do you have any plans tonight?  How are your kids, (that I miss so much)? Do you remember when we….  That one time was so funny when…..   I sure miss when we…..   UGH.   His wife and him are no different,  my husband and I are no different we are all four just going through the motions.  Focusing on kids, sports and life.   Occasionally waiving through our computer screens.

I wonder if you constantly have someone to waive to if things at home can ever get better.  I seriously think that if they are to get better I have to WANT them to get better.   In a way I do, but I want my husband to get better first.  Pain pills lead down a very ugly road for an addict.  A road that  seems to go in a circle in my life.

Enough bitching.

My kids are great.  They are what brings me huge joy.  I still love blogging, reading, cleaning, yes my OCD still has me cleaning like a mad woman.  My schedule is still jammed packed because it is the only way I don’t stop and think.  When I stop and think my anxiety is out of control.  I have a daughter that is starting to drive and plays volleyball, my other daughter plays lacrosse, my son plays rugby and I have my new baby.  The oldest three have all moved out.  Thats another blog post in itself.  Its so weird when your kids move out.  Suddenly you feel alone.  Like the schedules that you jam packed your daytime with are starting to open up.  They are grown.  Dating and paying their own rent.  Holding jobs and buying cars.  I guess I did somethings right.   I just make myself stay busy.  And if I make myself busy and the subject is always my kids then I am happy.  And when I am happy I’m less likely to throw coffee cups at vehicles.

Too tired to proof read this…..

Good night, sleep tight, don’t let loneliness bite. 

It’s quarter to eleven and I’m feeding the baby.  Her room is dark except for the dim lamp and quiet except for the rain sound machine.  As I rock her I sit here thinking about you.  I have a husband asleep in my bed.  Oblivious to the jobs of parents.  Homework was done, lacrosse and volleyball practices attended, dinner made and baths given.  Laundry folded and put away.  Counters wiped down as kids packed their backpacks for the next day.  Reading was done and birthday love was given all as he just slept. You see he is in pain again  and on more pills I assume and has missed another day.  So last but not least I rock my tiny 5mo old to sleep crying alone. I’m so tired of doing it by myself.  It’s not that I can’t and it sounds so selfish.  I just want something to look forward to when the kids are in bed.  That quiet alone time with a partner, the one you adore.  I haven’t had that for years, 7 at least.  So I rock her.  Thinking of you. Wondering if your night was good. Wondering if you had help. Or wondering if you did it all alone too.  Wondering if you’re doing the last minute things before bed and thinking of me.  Wondering why we stay or why we try.  I just don’t know anymore.  I hope you’re sleeping. After all it’s 11pm and when tomorrow comes we get to do it all over again.  Goodnight babe, I wonder if the moon is breathtaking tonight?  I haven’t looked in awhile.  


-Your Other