Where's the Peanut Butter

"What?" I said as I looked around at my unfamiliar surrounding. "Where in the world am I? And is that sand I feel between my toes? What is going on?"

I got up, brushed myself off and looked around. I appeared to be on a beach, a white sandy beach with turquoise water lapping at the sand. The wind quietly blew through my hair and I heard the rustle of the palm leaves.

Was I on a deserted island? How in the world was this possible? The last thing that I remember was standing in my kitchen trying to make lunch while the kids ran around.

"My kids!" the words that I heard leave my lips had a panicky tone. "Who is with my kids? I can't be here."

"Don't worry, Mama. They're fine."

I looked in the directions of the voice. And when I found it, I was blinded by the all the sequins.

I closed my eyes, shook my head and opened them again. I was not seeing this. How could this be?

"E-E-Elvis?" I asked.

"That's right," he said with a curl to his lips and a shake in his hips. "It's me in the flesh. A hunk a hunk burning love."

"But you're dead! I read about your death in my history books. Wait, did I get hit on the head? Are you just an Elvis impersonator? Am I unconscious or something? This is not real. This can't be real. Elvis, I mean you are dead, I know it. Wait? Who is that?" I asked referring to the big chested blond woman who was sunning herself on the beach.

"Well, sugar, that is Anna Nicole Smith." Elvis said as he shook his hips back and forth doing a little jig in the sand.

I didn't really know what to say. One minute I was in my house in the middle of winter and the next minute I was on a tropical island with Elvis dancing a jig on the beach and Anna Nicole sunning herself.

"Where am I? What is this place?" I asked Elvis. I needed him to stand still all his shaking and gyrating was giving me a headache because every time he moved the rhinestones on his white jumpsuit caught the sun and reflected directly into my eyes.

"This is our island. We all live here in peace." He said between dance moves.

"I thought this was an island but where... wait. You said, 'we'. Who is we? Who else is here?" I asked my curiosity peaked but at the same time I braced myself. I mean, I half expected Big Foot to come out from behind the bushes.

"Well," he said as he finally stopped moving, "Anna is here and the Princess. Michael and John. We all live here in peace and away from the public."

"Let me get this straight. You are telling me that Princess Diana, John F. Kennedy Jr, Michael Jackson, Anna Nicole Smith and you, Elvis, all live here? On this island?"

He nodded at me. "But you all are dead?" I continued. "Wait, am I here because I died?"

"We are very much alive and kicking. We just needed an escape. The public life got to be too much so we faked our deaths and here we are. Safe, happy and free." He educated me.

"Really. You know, I always thought that is what happened to you all. Hollywood can be so cruel. I can't imagine being under the microscope like that." I paused to let him adjust his jumpsuit. "But I am still confused. What am I doing here? I am a blogger and sorta in the public eye but that's only on the Internet and its not like I am blogfamous like Mama Kat or anything. So Elvis, why am I here?"

"Huh?" he grunted and appeared to be distracted by something in my hand. "Oh, uh, I needed some peanut butter and a banana for my favorite sandwich. So, I'll take that."

And with that he took the peanut butter jar that I had been holding in my hand and seconds after the jar left my head, my vision went blurry and I left things rushing by my face.

Suddenly, I felt my body stop. I landed with a thud against something hard. I was afraid to open my eye because who knows where I was now. But then I felt a familiar touch on my face.

"Mom. Mom. Can I have a peanut butter and banana sandwich? I wanna a face with the banana like Daddy does."

I opened my eyes to see Hayden's face right in mine. He was so close to me that I could smell this candy heart laced breath. I felt the hard kitchen floor under my feet. I saw Hayden standing on a stool. I was back in our house, in my kitchen. It must have been a weird day dream. I knew that it couldn't have been real.

"Mom!" Hayden began again, "I am hungry. Will you make me a sandwich?"

"Sure, Hayden. I will make you a sandwich." I said as I went to the cupboard to pull out the peanut butter. But as I opened the door and started to reach for the jar... there was nothing there. It was gone.

Then it hit me.

It was real.

Elvis is alive and he has my peanut butter.

This crazy post has been part of Writer's Workshop.



Don't ask where it came from.
I sat down to write and there it was.
Who knows maybe this really did happen.

Things I Didn't Know

Motherhood or parenthood, if you will, is a very strange thing. Raising children, guiding them and molding them into successful members of society and people is a very big and overwhelming job. It is also the most important job you will ever do in your life.

That being said, it is the only job that I can think of that doesn't involve or include multiple hours of training or schooling.

All you have to do is find a partner, get busy at the right time and poof! Nine months later, someone is handing you a little bundle (or multiple bundles) and says, 'here you go'. And that's it. You are off and running.

Does that seem weird to anyone? It does to me but yet everyone who is a parent has just excepted this, took the kid and went along their merry way. I did it. No questions asked.

So needless to say there are a lot of things that we don't know as we enter this parenthood journey. Here are a few that I had no idea about before I was a mom.

1. I had no idea about how often you were suppose to feed a baby or how much that you needed to feed them. Shoot, I didn't realize that they should be fed. Don't babies just self feed?

2. I had no idea that I would pray for at least 3 hours of sleep in a row and consider that a good night of sleep.

3. I had no idea that my pre-baby body was awesome. I would kill to get it back again but when I had it, I thought it sucked.

4. I had no idea how much poop a small child could produce. Seriously, where in the world does it come from.

5. I had no idea how annoying and mind numbing children's cartoons were. If I have to listen to Dora's map tell me how to get to Grandma's house one more time, I may just throw a child at the TV.

6. I had no idea how sentimental I would be. I have saved clothes that my children wore when they were tiny babies. These clothes are in perfect condition and someone could get good use out of them but I just can't let them go. Or my closet shelf in my room is over flowing with my children's art work. I have saved almost every piece and I can't bare to part with it.

7. I had no idea the lengths that I would go to to stop a crying fit. I prevent crying at all costs. I am willing to run up and down the stairs as many, times as it takes to get each child their precious toy.

8. I had no idea the crippling power of mommy guilt. I had no idea how it could eat me up inside and make me sick to my stomach.

9. I had no idea how judgmental other mommy's could be. It is so sad that we judge. We should not judge but offer compassion because we all have been there.

10. I had no idea that I would want to or be able to catch child vomit in my hands to save the carpet or a piece of furniture.

And so much more. I am pretty sure that in the years to come, even more things will prevent themselves as things that I didn't know before I was a mom.

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You Need to Run!

I stood firm. I felt trapped. Davin was between me and the door. I knew that he could easily over take me, physically, but I also knew that he would not lay a hand on me as long as I held the baby.

My out stretched arm began to quiver under the weight of the gun. I was not usually the one that held the gun. I thought that it would feel more foreign in my hand than it did. There was a part of me that knew what to do with it. That part of my body, seemed to take over and willed my arm still. The baby began to stir in my arms but my out stretched arm never moved the gun from Davin's chest.

He had his hands in the air and his face still sported a puzzled look but there was something in his eyes, I didn't understand. He opened his mouth to speak but there was only a sigh that came forth. If he had spoken words, I did not or could not hear them.

Again, I heard a faint buzz in the back ground. There was a part of me that wanted to believe that it was just Mr. Ponus mowing his law like he did every week. There was a part of me that was trying so hard to hold onto the normal everyday life that we had created here.

But the weight of the gun would not let me forget that this was not normal, we were not normal, I was not normal.

"Jen," I heard Davin softly say.

I stood silent.

"Jen," he repeated again.

I did not want to take me eyes off the gun. I did not want our eyes to meet. I didn't know if I could keep my emotions in check. I was not the strong one in this relationship. I was weak. It was Davin who protected me, protected us.

"Do not speak to me." A voice said that at first I didn't recognize. "I heard you on the phone. I heard you speaking to the machines. How could you? How could you still be in contact with them and promising them our, no my daughter?" The voice hissed and then I realized that it was me speaking.

I felt like at any moment I was going to faint. I felt like at any moment fear and panic were going to over take my body and I would fall to the ground in a mushy puddle. But the rhythmic breathing of my new born baby girl seemed to give me a new found strength.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Davin said in a tone that he knew that he could not resist.

But as I looked into his eyes, I saw something odd. His eyes did not match his demeanor. His eyes were panicked and racing, they seemed to be trying to tell me something. It was like he was two people. His body and face were cool and calm, collected like the Davin that I knew but his eyes were different. But there was something in his eyes that was familiar, very familiar.

"I-I d-d-don't understand!" I shouted trying to hide the nervousness in my voice.

"Jen, what don't you understand? It is just me, Davin. I love you. I love our baby. Let's not do anything that would cause us to have to start over. We don't want to change what we have. Besides, it's lunch time, lets go eat. Here, let me take her.

He moved his arms from stretched upright to stretched outright as if ready to take the baby when I handed her over. I felt like I was suppose to hand her over, it felt like the right thing to do. I wanted to hand her over. I wanted to put the gun down and act like this never happened.

But with these words Davin's eyes seemed to race more. It was like they were trying to break me out of his voice's hypnotic trance.

I forced myself to focus. I pulled my daughter even closer to my chest. And my arm again renewed its strength in holding the gun.

"Good, Jen. Good. That's my girl." I heard Davin's voice. But as I looked at his face but his mouth was not moving. Confusion rose in my head.

"Jen, remember you have this gift. Remember, Jen. Use it to hear me. Use it to know that this man in front of you is not the real me. You need to run. Get out. RUN!"

Davin's voice echoed in my head as the Davin in front of me stood still.

"You need to leave. Now! Run! There is nothing left for you here anymore. They are coming. They are coming. They are coming. You are not safe. She is not safe."

Davin's voice seemed to be screaming at me. But still the person in front of me was unchanged.

Then everything seemed to happen without my control. I heard the gun go off. I felted my legs begin to move. I saw Davin slump over onto the bed. The walls of my house became a blur as I ran out and jumped into the car. I still held the baby to my chest as to drove the car out of our neighborhood.

I had no idea where I was going to go but something on the seat next to me caught my eye.

After minutes of driving, I could not longer control the shaking that had taken over my body. The baby noticed too and was crying. Safe distance or not, I stopped the car.

On the seat next to me was the diaper bag, a black duffel bag and an envelope. I ripped the seal and in my lap fell a bus ticket and cash. I knew that I needed to run. I knew that I was on my own. Davin was gone, taken over.

I knew that I was the only one left that could protect my daughter and keep her from the machines.

But that did nothing to silence the huge part of me that wanted to turn around and drive back to our house, back to Davin, back to our normal life.

I didn't want to change, not again.

This post is part of Writer's Workshop.
Hosted by Mama Kat.

This is a work of fiction.
You see, I like writing stories.
There is one that has been swimming around in my head
and at times it comes out.
Read the first two parts here and here.

Read to Me.... Not!

I have a confession to make.

It is not something that I am proud of but I think that I have to put it out there.

Please don't hate me, hiss or boo at me. I feel that this place is a safe place where I can be loved and excepted.

Ok *big sigh* Here is goes. I am just going to say it, you know like this was an AA meeting or something.

*stands up*

Hi, my name is Jen and I am a mommy that doesn't read to her kids.

*whew*

There I said. Man, that is like a weight has been lifted. I feel so much better. But I also feel that I need to explain myself.

Alright, so the truth is that I don't read to my kids often. Its not like I out right refuse to read to them but it is something that I really don't enjoy. But I used to.

When Hayden was little I used to read to him all the time. It was something that I really enjoyed doing. We would sit and look at books together for hours, well not hours but many, many minutes. He especially liked the flip books. We would open each flap and talk about what was under each one. It was really fun.

Well, the little kids, Jake, Quinn and Claire, really like these kinds of books too. And I like to read and share these books with them but there is one problem. I have one lap and there are three of them.

Things usually start out really well. One of them will be in my lap and the other two will be on each of my sides. We begin reading and talking about the pictures when one of the kids sees something that they especially like and want to get a closer look at. That onne gets really excited and begins to push at the person in my lap which is then interpreted as a threat, meaning that they are being challenged for the place in my lap. The shoving begins, then the hitting, which usually includes me getting hit in the nose, and lastly the screaming match over who's mommy I am.

"MY MOMMY!"

"NO, MY MOMMY!"

"MY MOMMY!"

"NO, MY MOMMY!!"

"MY MOMMY!"

"NO, MY MOMMY!!!"

Well, you get the picture. And this all ends with me getting so irritated that I push the kids off my lap and leave.

I am really hoping that this is just a phase and they will grow out of it because I would like to read to them, really I would but not if they keep choosing this one book for me to read.

This is my second reason that I don't like to read to my kids.

Every.single.time I say to them, "Hey guys, do you want to read a book?" It never fails that they will find this book and bring it to me. They just love it but I can't stand it and if I have to read it one more time, I am not sure what I will do.

I have tried to hide this book. I have tried to give it away and I have even tried to throw it was but each and every time my efforts have failed. I don't know how they do it. There must be some kind of alarm or censor on the book that alerts them to what I am try to do.

What is this book that I speak of? Well it is 'Night-Night, Baby' a touch and feel book.

Seriously, its not even a story book. It is just a book that lists all the things that babies do before bed.
"Time for dinner!"
"Can you feel the bib on the baby?"

"Bath time is with a rubber ducky to play with"
"It's so shiny."

"The bath is over."
"Now we get dry!"
"Feel how fluffy the bathmat is." and so on.

Each picture, which I am pretty sure is older than me, has a texture to it that they can feel so maybe that's why they like it. But I just don't get it and I think that they babies in it are kind of creepy looking. I am pretty sure that I saw one of the babies move its eyes to watch me.

*shudder*

So there now you all know my dirty little secret. I am not proud of it but this is the way its has to be, right now. I am just thankful for daycare and school because I know that they are reading to them and nurturing their little minds. Because I am not, well at least in this area.

This post was brought to you by Writer's Workshop.
Need something to write about, head over and pick a prompt.

Meow Meow Meow

Dear Biped Human,

It is high time that I wrote you this letter. We need to have a discussion about what has been going on in this house.

First, it was just me. I was the only other living thing in the house with you two. I was fed regularly. I always had a lap to sit on. I was given treats and toys. Life was good.


Then you brought another four legged feline into the house. I was pissed at first. How could you? I was the king of this castle. But then little Lucy, annoying as she was always biting on my ears and playing with my tail, grew on me. I liked her around. She was my friend. It made me sad when she just went away but I recovered. I was happy that once again the castle was mine or so I thought.

There was something going on with you two. You bipeds were multiplying. First it was one young one and then it was three. Three at one time. Are you trying to give me a nervous kitty break down?

I could tolerate the one young offspring. He was fine. I was able to out run him and hide but now, now there are more and they are everywhere.

You say that they just love me but I ask you, are pulling on my tail, smacking me in the face and poking my butt signs of love? I think not. And also since these offspring have come into the house my time on my favorite human chair has greatly decreased. In fact it is down right nonexistent.


Now I have tolerated all this very well, if I do say so myself. I don't bite the offspring often and when I do, they really, really deserved it. I no longer sleep on the couch so that they can use it for jumping and I even share my food with them, upon occasion.


But the other day, I heard of talk that I will not tolerate. There is no way that I am going to let you bring a filthy DOG into this house. Just let all those decapitated mice and squirrels I leave for you on the porch be your warning. Do we understand each other.

Good. Now come over and pet me.

Your Loving Cat,

Charlie

Charlie wrote this post.
Mama Kat gave him permission.
This was for a Writer's Workshop prompt after all.

My Motto: Listen and Obey

As parents, we all want our kids to listen to us and do as we say. Hence, the phrase 'Listen and Obey' has become my motto. I say this phrase about 12,457 times a day, hoping that it will sink in and my children will actually listen and obey the things that I say.

This phrase is said a lot at home but I say it even more when we go out. It usually goes a little something like this.

Me: "Hayden and Claire will you please stop touching that."

Them: They look at me and stop for about 1.3 seconds and then turn around to touch said item again.

Me: "I asked you guys to stop touching. Now you need to (I make my tone more forceful and louder) listen and obey!"

This phrase really doesn't change anything. They don't immediately stop like I would like them too. I don't really know why I say it but it kind of does make me feel better saying it.

But since I do say this phrase so many times a day, Claire, the little mother in training, has started saying it to her brothers.

"Jake! Quinn! Hayen! LISTEN AND OBEY!"

After a particularly long time of Claire screaming this, Hayden had had enough because older brothers are not suppose to take orders from their little sister. So he asked me,

"Mom, I don't need to to listen and obey Claire, right!?!" I nodded in agreement saying something like, I was the mother and he only needs to obey me and Daddy and other adults he is with.

Then after pondering this for a minute he said, "Mom, what does obey mean?"

You know what, this really explains a lot.

This has been an attempt at a Writer's Workshop post.
Go check out Mama's Losin' It for others.

(Un)Kindness of Strangers

I like going shopping, any kind of shopping really. I don't even mind grocery shopping. In fact, that is one of my favorite kinds of shopping to do. I just love walking down the isle and looking at all the food. It inspires me. I get ideas for different things to cook and meals to make. I know, I am weird and probably have an unhealthy relationship with food but none the less, I like to go.

Wait, I need to clarify. I like to go shopping by myself. Because lets face it, the reality is taking kids shopping, well it just sucks. Not every time but most of the time it is not fun for mommy and kids alike.

But who can really blame them. I don't think that I would like being strapped into a cart for an unknown amount of time, constantly being told to not touch things.

But sometimes when we go to the store it is not the kids that make is a the trip terrible, its the people. John Q Public.

Most people are not terrible. Most people are just curious about the kids. When they were babies, we would get stopped a lot and questioned, "Are they triplets?" "Are they all yours?" "Were they natural?" "Do they have the same birthday?" "Did you give birth to them all at the same time?"

Now that they are older, people don't stop us a whole lot. If they do, they ask if the little boys are twins? Or they are confused about their ages. I also get a lot of 'my your hands are full' comments. I don't mind these comments or questions. I smile graciously and answer what I can.

The people that bother me are the ones that look down their noses at me, that scoff when it takes me extra time to walk by or 'tsk tsk' me when one of the little kids gets too far ahead for their liking. They are the people that I see roll their eyes are me or say comments, "Some people just don't know when to quit."

I don't like these people. They harden me to others and make me think twice about talking to strangers and make me bitter about dealing with people.

But there are a few people that are truly diamonds in the rough. This small handful of people don't judge me or scoff at me. They don't ask to personal questions like 'did you have sex three times to get that many?' These people actually help me.

I never see them coming but they are always there when I need it most. Like when Jake is screaming his head off and falling out of the cart while Claire has spilled water all over the isle and herself and Quinn has run off and Hayden is trying to steal and open a candy bar. They swoop in and somehow help me regain control.

They make the kids giggle with a silly face or funny joke. They offer a balloon or small toy as a distraction. They calmly return the missing child. They tell me stories of how horrible their children were in a store.

These people are just magical. I don't know how or from where they come but I am always glad that they do. They deserve so much more than my Thank you's.

This post has been part of Writer's Workshop
Hosted by Mama Kat

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A Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

I need to take a minute to write you this letter before Hayden's 'letter' reaches you. The boy is really confused about things and I just don't want you to get confused too. I know that you have a ton of kids to look after and find gifts for so one boy who insists that he wants something from the Easter bunny and not Santa is likely to get lost in the shuffle.

Now, Hayden really is a really good boy. He does deserve to get toys and books and video games and all the things that he wants. But we need to keep it within reason, alright. You see when I gave me a couple toy catalogs that I got in the mail and told him to use them to help him make his wish list for Santa, I didn't expect him to cut up each catalog in its entirety.

So when you get his letter, it is going to be a little thicker and look a little different than you are probably used to. He has carefully placed each and every tiny piece of paper in to a ziplock sandwich bag and that is what he intends to mail to you. Not a list but just a bag, filled with tiny cut outs of all the toys he wants.


I tried to get him to trim down his 'wish list' but he says it can just not be done. He says that everything in there is very important to him and it just has to stay his list.

I have to stop here and tell you that we are not raising a greedy son. He doesn't always get his way or get every single toy he wants. We are trying to teach him that it is better to give that receive. His Grandma showed him this by taking him to buy a gift for a boy that would not otherwise get a present this year. He is very proud of what he did to help this little boy. Just ask him, he will tell you he picked out a game and pjammies for this 4 year old boy. And he knows what a 4 year old wants because "I am 5 now!"

Anyway, that is about it. With Hayden it is just all or nothing. Always has been and I pretty sure he will always be like this. Just love him through it, I know we will.

Thank you, Santa and Merry Christmas.

This post is part of Writer's Workshop.
Hosted by Mama Kat.

Happy Eagle!

I am not one for decorating. Sure, if you have ever been to my house you will see pictures on the walls and things here and there. You could call my house decorated but that is not by any of my doing. If it was left up to me, all the walls and shelves in this house would still be bare.

My house is decorated because of my mom. She is the decorator and she is really good at it. Her friends will often call her for advice on what to do in this room or what would look good here on this wall? I keep telling her that she need to change careers and become an interior designer but she is content just helping people when they ask.

My mom is one of those people who changes the decor in their homes based on the holiday or season. Now it is not to the extreme but tastefully done. It is a change in a table cloth here and an addition of a knick knack there. I really like it. And it kind of makes sense because since you only see these things for a few months at a time, you never get sick of anything.

I have always wanted to be like this. But sadly, I am not. The decorator gene did not get passed down to me. But that doesn't mean I am not going to try, for the kids sake because they deserve, make that want, cool decorations for the holidays.

So that is why, when I saw this guy in the store I just had to take him home. I know its not much but its just a little something to make the house more festive.


Yeah, I know. I really need my mom's help. I think so too but the kids, especially Jake, loved it.


When he first saw it on the table, he ran screeching with glee, "Happy Eagle! Happy Eagle!" Yeah, I know he is a little confused on the name but he was just so infatuated with it. Well, just watch and see.



I am pretty sure that if I had not told Jake that 'Happy Eagle' needed a 'nap', it would still be in his hands crushed to an unrecognizable mush.

But you know what, that would have been fine with me because his joy and the joy of the other kids made the $3.50 that I spent more than worth it. And for their joy and giggles, I am truly thankful.

This post has been part of Writer's Workshop.
I know its not a Thanksgiving poem like the prompt asks for
but it is about something for which I am Thankful.

And the Saga Continues

The hum and buzz outside the window made me pause as I was ripped back to that time in the attic. I thought for sure that I would be taken and never see Davin again. My memory is not the best when it comes to recalling all the events, in fact most of it is blank. But the sound of the Machines will forever be locked into my memory.

I also remember the fear and panic that seized my body. I thought that this was the end. Davin and I would forever be separated. Our lives torn apart once again. If I was to be captured my memories would be terminated and nothing, would be able to bring them back. Davin would no longer exist to me. The baby would have never been given life.

My gaze went down to our sleeping infant. She was so peaceful and innocent. It is my hope that she never know the Machines. It is my hope that she will never know the horror and pain that they cause. It is my hope that she will never know where her mother and father came from. It is my hope that we, I, can protect her with every fiber of my being, even my life if it comes to that.

So far we have been successful. No one knew that she even existed. She was our secret, our precious gift. Life now seemed almost, normal. We had put down roots in this small out of the way town. We were just another young couple with a small infant. He was a plumber and I was a school teacher. We were just a normal couple. No one thought anything different, there wasn't any reason too.

But in the back of my mind, I wondered how long this would last? How long would we be able to live in peace, away from their grasp and control? How long would Davin and I be able to love each other?

The ringing phone caused the baby to stir. I raced over to pick it up. I was ready to quietly say 'hello' but stopped short. Davin had already picked it up. He must have came home for lunch.

I did not recognize the voice on the other end but I figured it was just a client. Davin sometimes, although very rare because we really liked no depended on our privacy, gave out our personal phone number. I pulled the phone away from my ear to hang it up when the conversation registered in my brain.

"I know the baby has been born," the voice hissed.

My hear began to race as I looked down at our sleeping daughter. She was so peaceful and safe swaddled in her pink blanket. I could feel the panic rise in my chest. My hand began to shake the I feared I would drop the receiver. The voice continued as I listened.

"You promised to hand her over as she was born. Jen was never suppose to know that the baby was alive. We let you escape. We let you love. We kept up our end of the deal, even more. We let you live. Now it is your turn. The baby. It is ours." The voice demanded with an almost snake like tongue.

"I understand." I heard Davin say. My hand was shaking so badly that I dropped the receiver. It hit the wooden floor with a loud clunk that seemed to echo through the room.

I was frozen. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Davin had just given our baby to someone. No, not someone, the Machines. They had found us. Our time of peace was over. They knew. And worst of all they knew because Davin had told them. Davin.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and I knew that Davin would come through the door at any second. I tore the sleeping baby out of her cradle and held her tightly to my chest. I grabbed the gun that Davin kept hidden under the cradle. I had no idea what I was going to do with the gun. I knew that I would not be able to kill Davin but I could not let him or the Machine's take my baby.

I had no plan. I didn't know what my next move was but I held my ground as Davin bounded into the room and stopped short. His eyes met mine and questioned me as they were followed my out stretched arm to the gun.

He placed his hands in the air as I aimed the barrel at his chest. "Jen, What is going on?" He asked with a nervous laugh. His voice, nor his eyes, give anything away. It was like the whole phone call had not happened.

This post was part of Writer's Workshop hosted by Mama Kat.
This is fiction. Sometimes, I like to write stories.
See, I dream about these stories and I decided to write them down and see what happens.

Of This I am Proud

Writing has always been my outlet. It has been a way for me to cope with life. The good, the bad, the funny, the sad and all the other stuff in between.

When I was a freshman in college, my mom got sick. She was really, very sick and they had no idea what was wrong with her. She was in a coma and we didn't know if she would ever wake up.

She of course did get better and is fine today but the whole experience was unsettling to say the least. It was my first experience of dealing with the morality of my parents. And at the tender age of 19, that is a very sobering thing.

Once my Mom was better and life had returned to normal, inspiration hit me to write a poem about the whole experience. It was my way of wrapping the whole experience up and putting it away.

I vividly remember the inspiration hitting me. It was in the Spring and I remember walking out of class back to my dorm room when the words just started to come. They just started to spill out of me. I couldn't control it. I remember running back to my dorm so that I could grab a pencil and write it down.

I presented this to my Mom on Mother's Day. She cried when she read it and I remember being so proud that my words could touch her in that way.

So because today is her Birthday and any day is a good day to tell your Mom that you love her, I want to share it all over again.

It is amazing how quickly life can change.
I went about a normal day, when the phone rang....
The news was not good, "Mom is sick, you better come."

I have never been so scared.

The trip to the hospital seemed to take hours.
I walked through the hospital doors and into a weekend that would forever change my life.

"You can see her now," they said.
Lisa and Dad went first.
Lisa came back with her eyes full of tears and said, "That's not my mom."

I went to see and was in shock.
What's happening? What's going on?
I asked the nurse, "Is she going to die?"
"Prepare yourself," she said, "We just don't know."

Alone with you, I took your hand.
I didn't want to cry but tears rolled down.
"You can't die," I said, "I still need you, I need my mom."

I longed for a hug, words of comfort but nothing, only the sound of breathing.

I left your side and cried.
I cried until only dry sobs were left.

"My mom might die," is all I could think.

Two days past with no change.
I ached to hear your voice, for you to grab my hand.

Then suddenly, you began to move, thrashing, squirming, yelling for the bathroom.
I thought my knees would give,
for my mom was dead but now she lives.

One day more and I received my hug.
To be in my mother's arms, oh joy, oh bliss.

Each day, I came to see you and each night I had to leave.
The leaving was hard.
I sang to you to ease the pain,
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound...."

After time, you came home.
I felt so proud, like a mother bringing home her newborn baby.
I have my mommy back.

I have learned to cherish you.
Each word you speak is priceless.
Each hug you give is like gold.
The time we spend together is a memory set in stone.

On this day, I celebrate you, your love, your friendship, your health and your motherhood.
I love you, Mom.

My Mom meeting Hayden for the first time.



This post has been part of Writer's Workshop.
Go see what other people are writing about.

The Tale of the Red Eyes

Just like every other night after finishing my post for the next day, I headed off to bed. I walked by Jeff, who was playing World of Warcraft at the kitchen table, and kissed him on the top of the head.

"Going to bed?" he asked.

"Yeah. Are you coming soon?" I questioned.

"Yup. Yup. Oh man, those mother 'effers. What? Yeah, I be there soon," he answered.

Talking to Jeff while he is mid game is always interesting. He is usually only half paying attention to me. But I am used to it. I knew his love of all things video game before I married him.

I kissed him once again on the head and said, "Please don't stay up too late". And I went off to bed.

Once my nightly ritual was complete I settled under the covers to doze until Jeff came in. One of the side effects of being married is that sometimes I can't fail asleep if Jeff is not in bed with me. This happened to be one of those nights.

I let my mind wonder and hoped that sleep would come, even though Jeff was not in the bed. But then I heard it the distinctive sound of Jeff pushing his chair away from the table. "Yeah," I thought to myself, "Sweet sleep will finally come to me."

I felt a presence in the room and just assumed it was Jeff, emptying his pockets of his wallet, phone and keys and getting undressed.

The whole time he was doing this, I felt his stare on my back. I could just feel his eyes boring into my back. It was not his normal behavior but sometimes, Jeff can be weird.

But this time, it was creeping me out. I felt very uncomfortable and I just wanted him to hurry up and come to bed so that I could go to sleep.

But he still didn't come. He just seemed to be standing there staring at me. I could feel his eyes on my back. He was totally giving me the chills.

This was getting ridiculous. What in the world was he doing that was taking so long? And why was he staring at me?

"Jeff! What are you doing?!" I said in a huff as I turned over onto my other side to face his side of the room.

Once I was on that side, I stopped short. For I did not see what I expected. I thought that Jeff would be right there, standing next to the bed. I felt his presence in the room. I felt his eyes on my back. But the room was dark. The door was closed and there was no one there.

"Jeff?" I said again, just in case he was hiding at the edge of the bed and at any moment going to jump up and scare the crap out of me.

"Jeff?" I said again. My heart was now starting to race. I looked at the door and saw the glow of the kitchen light still on. Jeff was not in the room with me that was for sure. But who was in the room. I could still feel someone there.

I looked around the dark room as best I could.

I was now sitting straight up in bed. My heart was beating so fast that I thought at any moment it would leap out of my throat.

I did not see anyone in the room with me but I still felt eyes boring into me. I was scared stiff. I wanted to run out of the room. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. But, nothing. I was unable to do anything.

Then as I sat there my eyes were pulled to the corner of the room by the door. And it was there that I saw two glowing red dots... eyes, staring right at me.


I could not move. It was as if those eyes held me in place. The only thing that I could do was blink and when I did, the eyes were gone.

I felt alone in the room for the first time since I got into bed.

I ripped the covers off my body and bolted out of bed like a cat with its tale on fire. I ripped the door open and I burst into the kitchen. Jeff was sitting at the table playing his game, completely unaware of what just happened to me.

He paused for a moment and gave me a confused look, questioning the commotion that I just caused as I entered the kitchen.

"What?" I said to him. "I just remember I had to check my email one more time."

There was no way I was going to tell him what just happened. I was not even sure what just happened and I still don't know.

This post has been a part of Spooky Writer's Workshop
It was also inspired by this blogger and this post.
Happy Halloween.

I Know I Didn't Expect...

So this week, the theme around the blogosphere has been about Motherhood. I have read a lot of great posts. Some beautiful, some gave me goose bumps, some brought a tear to my eye, some have made me laugh uncontrollably and some made me question things. Which I think is only fitting because Motherhood itself is like this.

Motherhood is such a thing that really cannot be explained. You don't really get it until you have been in it. There is no way to tell some one of the love that a mother has for a child or how each minute can bring a new worry about that child. There is really not any good way to tell someone what to expect when they become a mother.

I know that I didn't expect to feel the overwhelming, head spinning, gut wrenching love that I have for my children.


I know that I didn't expect to be so physically and emotional exhausted each and every day.

I know that I didn't expect the frustrations and anger that can come with dealing with small children. I never understood how an adult could shake a screaming crying baby. I didn't expect to be in the situation and thankfully choose to walk away instead.

I know that I didn't expect to laugh multiple times a day at things my children say or do.

I know I didn't expect to long to return to a time when my children were newborn babies, to just hold them again one more time, just to take in there smell and feel their weight in my arms. But in that same moment, I didn't expect to be so excited and giddy to watch them grow up. Waiting anxiously for them to reach each new stage, beaming with pride when they do.


I know that I didn't expect to scream at the top of my lungs at the TV with my children because there is a snake that is going to get Rocket and then die with laughter afterwords.

I know that I didn't expect to second guess myself with every decision that I make. Even the simple ones like, should we go to the ER in the middle of the night for what seems to be just an ear infection? Maybe it is something else? Maybe there is more wrong, maybe not? Or to wonder, did I do something wrong in his first five years of life when he was home with me to cause these behavior problems at school?

I didn't expect to wonder if my children would get enough love from me. I am giving them enough? There is only one of me and four of them. How is it possible to meet their every need when I am so out numbered.



I know that I didn't expect to be able to instantly connect with other women, strangers, because they too are Mothers.

I know that I didn't expect to wish for a handbook or a guide as to how to deal with these children. How am I suppose to handle a son that wants to sleep with me every night, a daughter that is so suborn she wouldn't move from a spot that was on fire if I asked her and she didn't want to, or a son that is so anxious and unnerved when I leave he can barely eat.


I know that I didn't expect to long for a break away from my children and when in fact I got that break, long to be back with them.

I know that I didn't expect to get so much joy and happiness from just watching my children play and listening to them talk with each other.

I know that I didn't expect for this to be the most difficult thing I have ever done in my whole life.


I had no idea of all the emotions and feeling that waited for me before a became a mother. And maybe that is why we really have no idea because really, who would choose to have their heart literally walking outside of their body?

But I did choose to become a mother even though I didn't know what to expect. And you know what? I am so blessed because I did.

This post is a part of Writer's Workshop.

Hosted by the wonderful mother,
Mama Kat

More Than a Mother

Today is my 30th birthday. So I thought it would be fitting if I asked my mom about my birth.

It was early in the morning and my Dad had already left for work. My Mom was alone when her water broke and she started having contractions. My Dad has just gotten to work when she called him and told him to come back home. She labored at home until about mid-morning and then went to the hospital. And 3 hours later, I was born. The first thoughts that my Mom had of me when I was born was that she couldn't believe how big I was, 8lbs 12oz, and that I had the roundest, fattest baby face that she had ever seen. She said that as soon as I was placed into her arms, and given her breast, I latched right on. And that was it, we bonded right away.

I listened to my Mom tell me this story and I could hear the emotion in her voice. I heard the words get choked up in her throat. I felt the love that she had for me. I understood this love because I share each of it for my own children.

My Mom and I have always had a great relationship. She is the one that I can talk about anything. She knows me. She understands me. Sure, we have had our bumps in the road but what relationship doesn't. She is my biggest supporter and pushes me to be my very best.

I have always admired my Mom. Not because she was perfect but because she did the very best that she could with what she was given.

But my admiration and love for her was taken to a whole new level after I had my own kids. We were still mother and daughter but it was at a whole new level. We were now almost like equals.

We understood each other.

She knew what I meant when I said that I was in love with my children
She understood my pain and sadness at having to leave my baby on my first day back at work.
I understand her longing to be together as a family.
We both know the worry of raising a child, the guilt and fear of doing something wrong

Motherhood bonded us together more. It brought us closer together. When I became a mother, my mother became so much more than just my mother. She became my mentor, someone to confide in, and my friend.

We are forever bonded together as mother and daughter but we have a better understanding of each other and relationship because we are also both mothers.

This post has been part of Writer's Workshop host by Mama Kat.

Overactive Imagination

"Quick hurry, up here. We will be safe up here."

We entered a large room that looked like it was an attic. There was a thick layer of dust every where and a few piece of broken furniture thrown about the room. But besides that there was just us.

Two large windows that looked down onto the yard. I heard children playing outside on the street. I watched them run around chasing a ball. They looked happy and sweet, even cute but I felt nothing for them. How could these be my children? If they were my children, then why didn't my heart know them? Why didn't my body ache to be near them? Why? Why? Why?

"It's alright. Don't force it, you will remember. Give yourself time," Davin said as he gave my arm a supportive squeeze.

"I just don't get it. I just don't understand how I could have children and not remember them. How could I not know, people that I birthed, people that came from inside of me? And him," I gestured to the man outside mowing the grass in the back yard, "How can he be my husband. I feel nothing for him. He is a stranger to me."

"Jen, I know its confusing but its true. You have to trust me. Do you trust me?" We were standing face to face and Davin held my shoulders and seemed to shake me while he asked the question.

His eyes pieced mine. For the first time in days, I felt something familiar. I felt like I belonged here with him. I felt like there was more to us then he was letting on.

"Do You Trust Me?" He said again but this time more forceful than the last. We were standing even closer now, almost too close. But it did not feel wrong. I did not try and pull away. Just the opposite in fact, I wanted to be even closer.

"Promise me that no matter what, you will always trust me." His voice seemed to soften and fade away as he spoke those words.

I could sense that he was trying to be strong, trying to figure out away to separate from me but his eyes did not deliver the same message. In his eyes, I could see the longing, the love, the passion.

I started to nod my head in agreement when his radio crackled. "Davin...... Davin..... Do you read me? They are approaching."

My heart began to race. I did not know who they were but I knew what they wanted. Me. I was the reason for their attacks. I was the reason that Davin was here, risking his life. Me. Danger seemed to find me no matter where I was.

I could feel all the muscles in my body tense up and I know that Davin felt it too. "You just have to trust. I promise you will be alright. I promise to let nothing ever happen to you."

And with that, he pulled me close to him. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. I let myself go in his arms. I let him kiss me long and hard. I let him take my breath way.

I knew that this was not the first time that we kissed. I knew that I wasn't suppose to be kissing him. I knew that we weren't suppose to have feelings for each other but it couldn't be helped. I felt connected to him. I felt like we belonged together and been together for many, many years. His kiss, his arms, his embrace, all were familiar and comforting.

"Davin. Davin....." the radio at his side seemed to scream at us, breaking up our embrace, "They have your location."

"They know."

"Davin, DO YOU READ ME?"

"THEY ARE HERE!"

The panic in my chest was raising. I could hear they buzzing outside the door. The buzzing seemed to rattle the whole attic.

"RUN !" Davin screamed at me. "Run and hide. I will try and hold them off."

I didn't want to leave his side. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted for us to run together. But that wasn't an option. So I ran. But every where I went the buzzing followed. It seemed to surround me there was no escaping it.

As I tried to hide myself in a seemly empty room, I heard Davin fighting. I could not see what he was fighting, I only herd the buzzing or was is growling. Yes, it seemed now to be low snore like growling and it was getting closer.

I covered my ears but I could not escape the growl.

It was getting closer.

Closer

CLOSER

I knew it was right on the other side of the wall from me. I knew this was going to be the final attack. I heard the growling louder than ever. It was all I could hear. The sound was every where. I could not block it out.

Davin....... Help me!

*****

Then I woke up. It was all a dream. Seriously, this is what my dreams are like. Do you know what that growling was that I kept hearing all around me? The noise that freaked me out so badly that I woke up with my heart racing?

What was that noise?

Why nothing but my own snoring.

Nice.

The Walk

"Let's go for a walk."

I can't tell you how many times I have said those words. Usually they are said either close to nap time or at the end of the day when my nerves have been shot. We have to get out of the house so I say,

"Who wants to go for a walk?"

Sometimes the kids jump at the chance and other times it is like pulling teeth. But we go, we all walk down our street.

It is an activity that every one likes. It is something that will keep the fighting and bickering at bay. It is something that will allow me to just be able to have a few moments of quiet.

But recently, I realized that going for a walk is something that I found myself wanting to do more and more.

For you see, on these walks I get to really see my children. Their personalities come shining out. I get to walk with each one separately and share a conversation with them. I get a glimpse into their own little world.

I watch Claire run up ahead. I watch her run back and tell me, "I run fass, Mom. Run fass." I see independence and self confidence burst from her in each step she takes, getting farther and farther ahead. But I also see her come back to what is safe and secure. This makes me smile; her want to explore the world but yet always hold onto where she came from near. I hope this is a trait that she carries with her for the rest of her life.

I watch Quinn slowly linger behind, finger in his mouth, cautious about each new step, always keeping his eyes on me. I see the hesitation in his eyes, he is not sure about this whole thing. But then I listen to him refuse to hold my hand. It is as if he is saying, 'I want to do this by myself. I can do this by myself. I will do this by myself'. He rarely will say a word, it is like he is in silent meditation as he looks around. He takes it all in to ponder.

I watch Jake, run and dart all over the place, seemingly careless about where he goes. But that is really not what he is doing. He is trying to take in as much as the world as he can. He must see, touch, smell, feel everything around him. But after running on ahead and taking many, many things in, he comes back, slips his hand into mind and tells me about it all. I do not always understand all the words but I can feel his excitement and wonder. And I can hear it in his voice.

I watch Hayden. Hayden the oldest, the leader of the pack. He tries to act bored and annoyed with this act of a simple walk. He sighs and scuffs his feet with each step. But then his curiosity and adventurous spirit get the best of him. He must explore all he sees (much like Jake, in fact I am sure this is where Jake learned this). Then when his arms are full of his latest treasures, he will walk along side me and ask questions. Some of which are easy and I know the answer right away but others that are profound and full of insight too great for his age. Those I can't answer so we just walk, hand in hand.

All this from a simple walk down the road. A simple act that just put us together and gave us the time to be together.

So, let's go for a walk.

This post has been a part of Writer's Workshop.

My Half-Assed Attempt at Writer's Workshop

I like the prompts over at Writer's Workshop this week, in fact I even have a post about marriage in draft form but I am just not feeling it right now. So instead I want to pose a question to all my lovely bloggy buddies.

In my travels around the blogosphere, I have seen more than a few post/pictures of a certain man. I have read post about women gushing over him, about how gorgeous and hot he it. I have even seen women devote whole blogs to him. But frankly, I don't see what all the fuss is about.

So I ask you, what is so great about Robert Pattinson?

I don't get it and in fact, I don't really think that he is all that good looking.

Maybe its because I refuse to see the Twilight movies. Maybe its because, he looks nothing like the Edward in my head. Or maybe its because, he is just not my type. I don't know but I do know that he just doesn't do it for me.

Now before you all go and vote me off out of the blogosphere or unfollow me (please, please don't). Here are a few Hollywood men on my list.

Johnny Depp
Oh be still my heart, he is just so dreamy.


Leonardo DiCaprio
Yum, Yum, Yum.


Orlando Bloom
Those eyes, I could totally get lost in those eyes.


Matthew McConaughey
Stop, please stop. I am drooling all over the place.

There now those are what I call some Hotties, with a capital 'H'!

*swoon*

Now, ladies come on, you can't tell me that Robert Pattinson is better than these guys. I didn't think so. I rest my case.

So sorry for this lame post. I will come up with something better tomorrow, maybe. In the mean time, go and check out what others did for their take on Writer's Workshop.

Room 35

I walked into work, late and half asleep as usual. I went to the time clock to punch in and see my assignment for the shift. I glanced at the sheet and then glanced again to make sure that I had to correct assignment in my not yet caffeine charged brain.

As I walked down the hall, I began to think about my assignment and then it hit me. I knew of the patient in room 35, his reputation proceeded him.

I sighed and thought about how I could possibly get out of this. Maybe I could say that I was not able to take care of him because I had a cold and that would be good for him. Or maybe I could say that my back hurt and I would be able to care for him properly. Or maybe.... maybe I would just take my turn his the assignment.

I did not have to work the next day and you can do anything for 12 hours, right? I kept walking and prepared to take report on the patient.

Room 35 was home to an older man. He was a gruff old man with a perverted sense of humor.

Life had been rough on him. And now that the one last good thing he had, his health, was failing, he let anyone and everyone know how miserable he was.

He was loud, rude, disrespectful and at times just pain mean.

If you got him on a 'bad day' there was nothing you could do to make him happy. He was known for throwing full urinals across the room. He refused to use the bedpan, instead sat in his stool and smearing it all over. He refused most of his bathes. He had slapped away lab techs and he had even gone so far as to spit in people's faces.

Needless to say the list of nurses that would not or could not care for him was longer than the nurses that would.

Today it was my turn. I had never actually been in charge of his care, only heard the stories. That is just the beauty of part-time, sometimes you 'miss out' because you don't work as often. But it now was finally my day.

I listen carefully as the night shift nurse told me his history and about her night. They had not meshed well, so it have been a partially awful night for her. She was frazzled and I could tell that she was at her whits end.

As we were finishing, his call light went off. She rolled her eyes and said, "He is all yours. Good luck, 'cause you are going to need it."

I watched her hurriedly pack up her things and leave. I wished that she would have just toughed it out and answered the bell one last time. I just needed a few more minutes to prepare, a few more sips of coffee. But I guess that I couldn't blame her for wanting to run like hell but my coffee.

I took a deep breath, guzzle down half my coffee and entered the room.

"Good Morning, Room 35. My name is Jen and I am going to be your nurse today." I said trying to make my tone as sweet as possible and hide all my insecurities.

My greeting was met with a grunt and then silence as he looked me up and down, almost sizing me.

"Your call light was on. What can I do for you?" I said hoping that my sweet soft tone would sooth him.

He smiled at me and said, "I am uncomfortable. Fix it."

I did my best to reposition him and get him comfortable in bed. While I was completing the task, Room 35 just smiled at me and after a few minutes said, "Fine."

I went over the the computer, entered his vital signs and prepared his morning medications. He never said a word, just watched me and smiled as I went about my daily tasks.

When I finished with his tasks, I looked at the clock. I had spent enough time in here and need to see my other patient. I asked him, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No," he grunted but then quickly added," When will you be back?"

"I have another patient to see but I will check on you in about 30 minutes or so," I said.

"Seems like a long time to be gone from me. I am very sick man, hooked up to all this sh*t. I need attention too," was his reply.

"Don't worry. You will be fine and I will just be in the next room. I can see your monitor in there. I will always be watching you." I tried to reassure him.

He turned his head away from me. I took that to mean that he understood and I left.

The rest of the day went off without any trouble. He was cooperative, helpful and even pleasant at times. He mostly was just quiet and kept a silly grin on his face every time he saw me.

I didn't understand what people were complaining about. He was not a difficult patient to care for. He was fine. I guess it was just my excellent nursing care that softened him. "Maybe because of me, he would be nice from now on," I told myself, stroking my ego.

Towards the end of my shift, I went into his room to gather some last minute data. He appeared to be asleep, so I kept as quiet as I could. I was studying the computer screen when he spoke, his voice startling.

"Come here!" He demanded.

I walked over to his bed. He looked at me and said, "Those tits are f*cking fantastic."

A big smile came across his face as he laid his head onto his pillow, almost proud of himself. There was a very long, awkward silence in the room as I processed what he just said.

I looked at him, at the silly grin plastered all over his face (I now knew why it was there), and said, "Yes, yes they are fantastic but you will NEVER know just how fantastic."

And with that, I turned and walked out of the room.

This post is part of Writer's Workshop hosted by Mama Kat.

This post is based on true events, some of which happened to me and some of which happened to the lovely people I work with.
I have taken some liberties and spun them together hoping to make a good story.

Crush

There was a time in my young life, when I was trying to juggle not one but three men (boys). I was young. I had just come into my boy crazy phase. I was a late bloomer. I had to make up for lost time, I guess..

I had just started working in a local restaurant. I was a hostess and Chris was a waiter. Chris was in college and he had that 'bad boy reputation'. And there was something between us from the moment our eyes met. The chemistry was so strong between us you could feel it. He had a pull on me that I could not ignore.

Our flirting was out of control. We would banter back and work with each other each and every shift we worked together. We would stay late at the restaurant talking. I even went out for smoke breaks with him even though I didn't smoke just to spend more time with him.

He would playfully put his arm around my shoulder and tell me how pretty I was. He would wink at me and smile each and every time saw me. He would laugh at my jokes. He would stand up for me when other waiter's were mean or cheated me on tips.

I was hooked. I looked forward to every shift. I started making sure that all my shifts were when he worked too. I seriously, couldn't get enough.

He made me feel strong.
He made me feel confident
He made me feel pretty.

But there was one problem, he had a girlfriend.

Through all the flirting and playful banter, I tried to keep that in my mind but there was just something about him, something about our connection that caused me to push that knowledge deeper and deeper in my brain. He didn't remember her so why should I?

We never took our relationship outside of work. We never spoke or acknowledged each other outside of work. (Looking back there was probably a reason for that but I was too young and naive to notice or care.)

Then one night, he tried to move our relationship to the next level. We were in back of the restaurant on a 'smoke' break. I was cold and shivered. He slid in close, put his arm around me and pulled me close to him. I couldn't resist, I was like putty in his arms. I snuggled in closer, thankful for the warmth. I took in his smell, it was intoxicating. I felt dizzy.

He began to stoke my thigh as he whispered, "You really are an awesome person. So beautiful."

I looked up at him and bashfully turned my head.

"No really," he continued, "You're not only beautiful on the outside but on the inside too. I wish you could be mine."

My heart was thumping in my chest. I was sure it was going to leap right out onto the street. No one had ever spoken to me like that. I so wanted to be with him. I wanted to be 'his'. This was perfect but there was something that nagged at me.

I realized that he was quiet for what seemed like an extra long time. So I asked, "Is something wrong?"

He reached up, cupped my chin in his hand, looked deep into my eyes and said, "I really want to kiss you but I don't know if I should."

My heart raced. A tingle ran through my whole body. My skin was on fire under his embrace. I wanted that so much. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to hold me and never let go.

But as I nodded my head in agreement and began to lean in for the kiss, a face came into my mind. Not Chris' face but a face of an another man, a man that I had just met only a couple weeks earlier.

All I could think of was Jeff. I tried to push him out of my mind but he would not go. And then I knew that Chris and I were wrong, the reasons were too many to count, we were just wrong.

I quickly brought up my hand to Chris' mouth and gently stopped him before his lips reached mine. "I can't," I said softly.

"What? What's wrong? Is it Becky? She doesn't mean anything, we are done. You.... I want you." He pleaded.

"I can't," I said softly again.

He hugged me close and nuzzled my neck. Then he turned and walked back into the restaurant.

That was the last night that Chris and I worked together, the last night that we would talk, the last night that I would see him. He quit a couple days later.

I have always wondered what would have happened if I had let him kiss me. What would have happened if Jeff's face had not came into my mind. Would my life have been different or would I have realized what was going on?

I wonder these things but I do not regret the course of events that did happen.

For you see, that was I night that I realized that Jeff was something more than just a crush. Something more than just another boy I was trying to juggle. He was and is so much more and he is the only man I will ever kiss.

Writer's Workshop is hosted by Mama Kat.

They All Fall Down

I am not what you would all a very graceful person. In fact I am quite the opposite. I stumble and fall all.the.time. If there is even the tiniest of bumps or cracks in the floor, I will trip over it and fall. And because of this I have sprained my ankle at least six times, two of which I wrote posts about here and here.

Jeff on the other hand in very coordinated and graceful. He like to say that he has ninja like abilities.

Since we are both on opposite end of the spectrum, I was hoping that our children would be some where in the middle. But alas, that has not happened.

They are all clumsy little fools, Quinn and Jake being the worst. You look at those two funny and they will fall. Their knees have been scraped up so many times that I don't how many layers of skin are left. The bruises that these children sport, well it looks like they have been through battle.

And to be honest, I have surprised that no one has had a broken bone, had stitches, or needed a trip to the emergency room. Hayden has had a concussion or two but that has been the worst of it (Thank, God).

It just breaks my heart to see them fall and stumble all the time.

Cruse my clumsy genes, curse them!

I am holding out hope that they will grow out of it and by the time they are adolescents, they will have ninja like abilities like their Dad. But something is telling me that it is not going to happen and its only going to get worse before it gets better.

Oops, I gotta go. Someone just fell down. Again.

This has been a post part of Writer's Workshop
hosted by Mama Kat.