Till there was you...

This weekend was the first weekend I had no husband and no children since December 18th, when Corey came home. The boys were with their grandparents and Corey had his first drill back. Murphy and I slept a lot, painted some furniture, cleaned a very minimal amount and did a disproportionate amount of lolling about on the couch. It's what we were doing at the time I started this post, having just slep through all of Interview With a Vampire. I also spent the weekend collecting thoughts on how different my life was before the introduction of the inhabitants of this love nest.

Now that I'm 31, I have loved or hated Corey Allbritton for more than half my life. Life sans Corey means that there was never three pairs of shoes and dirty socks and underwear lying around the floor on one side of the room. The sheets on the bed remained tucked in at the bottom corners. I would not know where and how to pin a CIB on an ACU. I would not know what a CIB or an ACU were. I would never have been pushed to my emotional limits. Until I married Corey, I was waiting for someone to show me my purpose. I would not know what it was like to fall head over heels in love with someone every time I watched them close their eyes and take a breath in with every hug they got from their children.

Till there was Jake, I never heard myself apologizing to a nun for someone calling her office the "devil's den." I never, ever made a cake that didn't have icing on it, or intentionally left some cupcakes un-iced. I didn't buy or cook corn on the cob, broccoli or green beans. My middle-of-the-night-get-up-to-tinkle did not include tip-toeing upstairs to apply Vaseline to the entire bottom half of someone's face. I never knew the joy of seeing the clouds on a sad child's face part and respond to something with pure delight. Before I knew Jake, I'd only felt the heartbreak of a cheating boyfriend or the death of a relative, not the heartache of a child in pain that you cannot help. I never hoped that a kid would touch me, much less mean it.

Till there was Landen, no one had ever told me I was The Worst. The only person met before him who hated onions as much as I do was my Aunt Soupie. I'd never been told my cooking was "not so good" or that my chocolate cake was the "best only I can make." The last time I'd seen a hiney that cute was on his dad in 1995. Before Landen, I'd never experienced the dichotomy of being completely amused and entertained by someone and never wanting to hear their voice again in the same car ride. No one had ever hugged me and said "I'm never letting go." Without Landen, I never would have mastered maintaining anger while trying not to laugh. I would have no one for whom to dread their teenage years. I would be older than this before someone attached themselves to me as their mom.

Before there was Murphy, I did not consider myself a "dog person." I would certainly never let someone's dog lick my face, wipe his face on my pillow or eat off my plate. I had never stepped barefoot in shit before. I paid no attention to those statistics that say dogs improve heart and cholesterol health and are good for mental illness and grief. I never imagined the joy of having the dog who, were he human, I'm sure would be a cross between Alfafa from The Little Rascals and Rip Taylor. I would sit in my white chair watching my evening shows with my arms empty and no fuzzy, twenty-eight pound being cradled in my arms.

Lily was here before any of them were. I barely remember a me without Lily. She'll turn twelve this year. I tell Jake and Landen that she'll still be here when they go to college. She's what keeps Landen from being afraid of zombies and ghosts - he trusts her as his personal alarm system for threats to his safety. I have moved her into TWELVE homes in as many years. Then I had the nerve to bring home a man. Then his two kids. Then the dog. We have never demoted her status as High Priestess of our house. Murphy sleeps in his kennel every night so that Lily may reclaim her rightful place in our bed. And the most ironic development of her life is that now, when the boys are home, she's probably in their room, keeping watch. She stacks herself in with the stuffed animals or stretches out in a basket of clothes (clean or dirty) and observes. And because we continue to evolve as a family, she now lets BOTH the children from whom she has previously drawn vicious blood (Jake from his HEAD) rub her affectionately.

This is my home. This weekend it was clean and quiet. By Saturday evening, I'd had about all of that madness I could take.

Click here if you love The Music Man.

.....