temptation

you triangular italian god, there you sit, mocking me, tempting me, daring me to taste. i will be strong, i tell myself. i will not let this happen again. i will not even look upon you. i will breathe through my mouth so that i don’t have to smell your intoxicating cologne.

it doesn’t matter whether you are a famous gourmet chef, a tattooed and pierced sales associate from urban outfitters, the boy next door (paci’s), or the homeless guy selling newspapers on the corner. somehow you find a way to get to me.  

but this time i will resist. i will…what? you noticed i have lost weight? you like my new haircut? oh, this old shirt? i just picked this up at target (blushing). well, ok, maybe just a bite. but that’s it. you know how hard i’ve been working to cut you out of my life, to start over without you. one little bite can’t hurt, though, right?

suddenly i can feel the cholesterol coating my arteries, the fat cells rushing to see which can reach my thighs first, the pepperoni planning a heartburn party high inside my esophageal tract. this wasn’t such a good idea. i should have said no. why do i always say yes? are there meetings for this?

the morning after, as i try to button pants across my swollen gut, pants that fit only a day before, there you sit, mocking me from your grave (for yes, you are still there, somehow having a knack for halting all gastric processes the minute you enter a room). i will resist you next time. i don’t need you anymore. i have moved on. i will remember this feeling before the next time comes along.

wait. do you smell that? is that what i think it is? cheese? dough?

gotta run.   

if i could sit and have coffee with you…

near and far, old and new, friends, if i could sit face to face with you and share a cup of coffee (ok, we would each have our own cup; it’s not sanitary to share), this is what i would want you to know:

your repeated “words with friends” games with me are sometimes just the escape i need from reality.

when you encouraged me to start an etsy shop, it was just the push i needed to feel like i had stuff cool enough to sell.

the time you told me that you wanted to hang my photos (more than one!) in your kitchen, i was overwhelmed (in a good way).

that ball of yarn and crochet needles you sent may not have been a big deal to you, but i was having a bad week and it was the thing that carried me through.

the time i called you and you were in the middle of ending soccer practice and trying to feed your family, but you listened to everything i had to say anyway, means you are a special kind of friend.

just when i was about to give up on my exercise program, you decided to buy the dvd and start asking me lots of questions. crap--i guess i have to stick with it now.

those hours you spent trading emails back and forth with me, telling me that i am ok, that we are going to be ok, aren’t lost on me.

i lose my shit with my kids more than i want to admit.

i always apologize for what i have done, and i pray that somehow this carries them through to adulthood without needing too much therapy.

it’s ok to not feel completely fulfilled by motherhood.

i want to write a book someday. i can’t decide if it should be a story about my life or my grandma’s life or if i should try to write something trashy that will make money.

i feel inadequate when i read most mommy blogs. i also feel jealous.

when you came to visit me, even though you could have picked so many other places to go, i was beyond appreciative. elated. i felt really loved.

my kids watch more tv than i want to admit.

those live butterflies and that ant farm you sent were some of the most creative time my kids have had at home lately.

i am awed by your ability to find something to give to me when you are going through so much pain on your own.

everyone feels lonely and isolated sometimes.

working from home is not all it’s cracked up to be, and most days i crave being in an office with grown-ups.

i think a little wine or an old-fashioned cocktail at the end of the day is a great way to relax and give myself a little love.

i don’t love myself as much as i want to.

you help me love myself more.

did you know...

here i sit, in my usual spot, covered in pillows to prop up my wrists so i don’t develop carpal tunnel syndrome (or don’t exacerbate the swollen tendon in my left wrist that keeps me up at night). to my left: a tv tray, with a mug full of half-drunk, room temperature coffee, my wallet (because i have just bought myself a bag from here as a reward for all the long hours i sit in this spot), and a yellow fiesta plate, smeared with brown and red stains from the brownie and strawberries (the fruit makes it healthy, right?) i just consumed.

i wish i could spend more time in this creative space, writing down thoughts, posting pictures i am proud to have taken. or chronicle the potty-training nightmare that has ensued in this house over the last four months. (for instance, i just had to stop writing because someone, we will not name names, opened his door and said in the cutest voice possible, “mommy, i pee-peed.” he should be glad he is adorable, which sort of makes up for the poop tracks he left all over my bedroom rugs about an hour ago.)

or tell you about the amazing beach trip i went on with two girlfriends i hadn’t seen in over 10 years. or share with you that i’ve lost 15 pounds and oodles of inches off my hips doing this and this.

or detail for you how our family is living proof that this economy is horrible and it really is tough to find a job when you lose it. (i am thankful for health and enough food on the table.)

or did you know i opened an etsy shop at the beginning of the year? feel free to buy something or three. if you are friends with me on fb and have seen me post a photo that’s not for sale in the shop, email me and we can work something out. i just haven’t had time to post all the ones i love in there.

speaking of photos i love, is it wrong that i look at my photos and feel enormous pride? it seems weird to me, because my personality is to secretly be proud of myself for certain accomplishments but, in general, to be self-deprecating. i am not sure where this came from, but i don’t generally allow myself to say nice things about myself. so when i look at pictures i have taken and get emotional, i’m not really sure what to do with that.

speaking of getting emotional, i have had several electronic heart-to-hearts lately, and it makes me ever grateful for the technological advances that make it possible for me to love on (and be loved on by) friends and family who are thousands of miles from me.

speaking of loving on, does anyone reading this ever use that phrase? a friend from up north recently told me that i’m the first persons she’s ever heard say it. which made me think maybe it’s a southern phrase?

let’s all try to find time to do just one thing this week to love on someone else. it makes me appreciate what i have, makes me focus on the positive, uplifts me a little.