This is not the post that I had planned for today. But stuff happens. This is me being spontaneous. Can you see the steam coming from my ears? That means my brain is on fire.
We didn’t have anything planned for today. But I could tell that W wanted to do something. Her brown eyes were extra sparkly this morning.
Turns out, she wanted all of us to go out for breakfast and then run a few errands. She thought it was a very good idea. Like, perhaps, Pooh or Christopher Robinson would. I thought it was an awful, terrible idea. Like, perhaps, Eeyore or The Grinch would.
When we talked about it, W said she works all week and spends so much time away from me that she just wants to be near me on the weekends.
How could I say no to that? I couldn’t, that’s how. My teeny, tiny undersized heart fluttered like a hummingbird heart for a few seconds.
So, the five of us loaded into the Honda Pilot and went to Bob Evan’s for breakfast. And then to Wegman’s to buy a birthday gift and groceries.
My head didn’t explode (even at breakfast when the kids crafted insulting haikus about my party pooper nature). And there was hot chocolate with whipped cream. Bonus.
Here’s the thing about W and me. We’re very different. Like butches and femmes. Lily Munster and Morticia Adams. Melissa Etheridge and Melissa McCarthy.
On our first date, W bounded through the front doors of the bookstore where we were meeting. I had planted myself near the magazine rack where I could see the front doors. I don’t like surprises. You can read about our first date here.
I knew from the way that she bounded into the bookstore confidently and with a big grin on her face that she was feisty and full of energy. I knew that if I stuck close to her there would always be adventure and excitement. You might not believe that such things are possible — falling in love with someone by the way she walks into a bookstore — but I can tell you that they are.
I love W for a lot of reasons. But I fell in love with her because of this zest for life that she had that spilled over into everything that she did. She couldn’t help it. It was like she could never keep it all bottled up inside or under her hat so it leaked out like a stream of rainbow.
We are all the beneficiaries. She plans things for us to do — like yard sales and concerts, festivals and fairs. There are always impromptu stops at places of interest like flea markets and farmer’s markets and dairies that sell ice cream cones.
I hate that I am like a fourth child. The cranky teenager who never wants to leave home. I hate that I am like a hundred tiny weights that hold her down.
I like staying home, staying in, staying back. I can’t stand it when we’re out and the kids fight. It makes me feel all jangly inside like I’ve swallowed a handful of pins. Besides, there’s always laundry that needs done and work to do and I wanted to finish that blog post that has been percolating in my head.
I know that W likes (at least a tiny bit) the fact that I’m a big old boring brown rock. I keep her grounded. She tells me that.
But this post is about her. And how she makes me believe that anything is possible. That I can climb mountains and move mountains and yodel from the mountaintops like a badass Maria in The Sound of Music.
And that we can all go out to breakfast on a Sunday morning and have a nice time. Note: I was thrilled that the kids knew how to write haikus.
I know that I shouldn’t drag my feet so much or protest so loudly. It’s just how I am.
If I wasn’t so stubborn and grumpy, I’d thank W for getting me out of the house every once in a while, even when I don’t need aired out.
I’d thank her for planning fun things for us to do, even when I’ve already filled my fun quotient for the day by reading a book or watching the latest episode of Total Divas.
I’d thank her for sprinkling me with just enough “c’mon, it’ll be fun dust” to get me off my duff and into the car.
I’d thank her for letting me play co-pilot on her planned road trips and spur-of-the-moment adventures.
I’d thank her for dreaming and continuing to dream even after I’ve dumped a whole bucket of bah humbug on top of her head.
Mostly, I’d thank her for sharing her life with me. Her big, spirited, adventurous, boisterous, loud, lovely life.