The Oral Report

Standing up in front of the class was never so much fun!

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Location: River City, United States

The rantings and ravings of a mom of three wonderful girls as she finds new love while working like a dog and shaking her fist at the system. You know. Pretty much like everybody else.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Being Bad

I was a pretty good kid. I don't say that to be immodest. I didn't get into much trouble as a youngster. My teen years a little more. The first two years of college, well, probably best we never speak of them. Or at least not use them as a basis for comparison in this regard. Mostly because the memories are spotty at best. I have never been, though, what my parents would have called a "bad girl". Until lately.

For one week a month, the week when my children are with their father, I can do whatever I want. And sometimes, I do. I mean, hey, the only person at risk of my 'bad influence' is Highlander. And, well, he got a pretty big headstart on that without my help.

* I've been known to stay up WAY past my bedtime on a weeknight watching trashy tv. (This weekend it's been a great lot of Justice League - Season One and Angel - Season 4. I rented Angel - Season 4 from a video store last Thursday evening and picked up the JL disks knowing Highlander hadn't seen them and would enjoy them.)

* I've eaten ice cream as a meal. Or popcorn. Or both. (Not this weekend though. Leftovers for dinner tonight.)

* I've stayed in my pj's for 24 hours. (Almost there as I type this...)

* I've [explicit sex scene deleted] in the middle of the day, right in the living room. (I would elaborate here, but what happens in the living room, stays in the living room.)

* I've slacked off and done little or no housework. (Big slacking this weekend. Only one load of laundry, grocery shopping, some dishes and baking some choco chip cookies. All the rest has been deliciously, decadently slackdilicious!)

* I've played cards until the wee hours. (Okay, 'wee hours' for me is midnight. I probably would have played on into the night last night, but Highlander was a sleepy boy. For the past week or so, he's been reading a delightful novel to me and before either of us got too sleepy, we wanted to get some of that in.)

* I've surfed the net instead of making the bed. (Go look. Right now. Bed completely mussed. And me without a care about it. Okay, not much of a care.)

The weekend when the kids leave for a week has always been a difficult one for me. For nearly two years now, I have ached each time they hugged me goodbye. I have spent that first weekend missing them desperately. Walking from room to room and wondering what they are doing. Where they are. Hoping that they are happy and having a good visit with their dad, but wanting them here with me and counting the days until their return.

Having Highlander in my life has made that first weekend more bearable for me. Some weekends he has to work harder at it than others. Some weekends he has had to hold me while I've cried until I couldn't stop. Never once telling me to 'buck up' or 'calm down'. Never once making me feel weak for being emotional. Never once making me feel inadequate because I need him.

I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am for his love and support. Always. But, especially during these difficult times. Before he was here, I would spend the weekend sulking in my apartment alone and feeling so very sad. I don't imagine this part of my life will ever be easy, but I cherish the fact that I have Highlander to help me through it.

So...

THIS weekend I've been trying to show him what that means to me. A little breakfast in bed for him. A little waiting on him hand and foot. A little this. A little that. A little something to show him that I adore him. And appreciate him. That every Saturday and Sunday when he has had to prop me up, or distract me, or just hold me, have meant something to me. Have been important to me. Every one of them.

I love you, Highlander. Even when I'm being bad...

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