Sports and Men

I like sports. I always have. Once upon a time, I had two male roommates. I thought it was very funny, that on the rare occassions that we would get a Sunday paper, one would go for the comics, one would take the Science section, and I'd grab the sports page.

I'm not fanatical, but I do love to watch sports live. I can take it or leave it on television, usually. I'll have it on, but then I'll be doing other things, too.

It occurred to me last night as I was watching the Diamondbacks lose game one in the series, that I don't enjoy sports as much when I'm not single. Why is that?

I remember when I was first dating, T. He came over one night, and was surprised that I had a boxing match on the TV. However, as the years went by, he was the one camped out in front of the television and I was leaving the room. Why didn't we watch sports together? Why did his desire to watch sports incessantly take mine away? Ah-hah... I think I figured something out... maybe it was the fact that he'd rather watch sports (ANY SPORTS) than spend any time with me. Maybe that's what happens, maybe I resented it so much that I would giveup something I liked doing, just in the hopes of getting attention.

Damn, what am I a child? Oh well, one more lesson learned, right?

For those keeping count

I might have to give back a few credits towards my "super-mom" award.

Somehow, I managed to catch a cold (or a cold managed to catch me), so instead of a nice, healthy home-made dinner, my children were given kid's meals from Burger King. (In my defense, they do get milk instead of soda, and applesauce instead of french fries.) Their dinner was supplemented with a banana, and then dessert (ice cream sandwhich for one, popsicle for the other.)

Then, just to seal the deal, after their very healthy dinner, they were cleaned up, teeth brushed, and into jammies, where, I'm ashamed to say, all three of us sat on the couch for half and hour and watched, of all things, Pokeman. I've never seen a Pokeman show before, and I can't say I understood it. However, for me, I was mostly "watching" with my eyes closed. On one side, I had my sweet little girl, all curled up against me. On the other, my big little man, holding my hand with both of his.

However, just in case you're thinking all my previous hard work was for naught - my daughter asked me this just before bed. "Mom, when can we clean the bathroom again?"

I've still got it... even with a night of mental and culinary garbage.

Does a Manual Come With This?

Ok, as you all well know, I've recently joined the ranks of single-hood again. It's been a long time, and I feel like I don't know what I'm doing.

How long does it take before you see the real person? How long before you start revealing your own quirks and oddities? When is it ok to voice your opinion in your usual way? How long does a gal have to wear make-up? When I shave my legs before a date, does that still mean something? When are you supposed to reveal that you have a proclivity for push-up bras? Is a woman supposed to have condoms? (The last ones I had - expired!)

Well, my dear readers, at least my discomfort and potential humiliation will make for interesting reading material, right?

Which comes first?

In a strange conversation last night, I was accused of giving "management style answers" to direct questions. While I stated, and still maintain that my answers were straight-forward, I wondered for a quite a while... which comes first?

Am I a manager because I have the characteristics to make me a manager, or do I have the characteristics because I've been a manager for so long?

I was given my first management job when I was still in college, and I was managing a group of people in an answering service (little did I know that that was the first step to a long career in technical call-centers, but I digress). At that time, was I already destined to be in management for the rest of my career?

I do know that I tend to manage outside my office, as well. I do use some of the techniques that I've learned over the years in conflict resolution, problem solving, and rational thought.

However, I do believe that I give direct answers to direct questions - at least to the best that I know how to do it. Often times, I'm not avoiding an answer, but my own answers are vague, because I realy don't know!

And, D, I still don't have an answer to that last question of the evening!

I survived!

I made it through my first - first date in well, a very long time.

I did have the advantage of having met him before (let's just say small town and children the same age, and leave it at that). It was a little nerve-wracking - and probably a film director's dream. I was already feeling self-conscious, the last one to arrive, and my dinner companions were nice enough to leave me the spot to sit which - and I'm not being metaphoric here, had a spotlight over it.

It was a little awkward at first, but the conversations eventually warmed up and we were able to relax and enjoy the evening. (I'm thinking the glass of wine didn't hurt at all.)

However, I have to say that I got the biggest laugh of the evening out of my friend, Dina, one of the two behind this whole thing. The check came, and I, as is my wont, attempted to pay for my share. I was refused - and as we went back and forth on the money thing, Dina tells me, "Be a lady and take the money!"

I don't think those words have ever been put together in such a way before.

Names and Titles

A brief IM conversation last night, led me to thinking about names and titles. How many of them I've held over the years. This is what I've got so far:

Daughter, friend, best friend, girlfriend, lover, fiancee, wife, ex-wife, ex-girlfriend, boss, employee, colleague, granddaughter, great-niece, aunt, sister-in-law, step-sister-in-law, sister, Lizabeth, Liz, Lis, Beth, Flopsy (thanks, John), Munchkin, Honey, Hon, Babe, daughter-in-law, step-daughter-in-law, M's wife, T's Wife, two different Mrs. XXX's, Ms. X, Miss X, and then we hit my favorite section, momma, mommy, mom, mother.

Somewhere in there is a definition of who I am. I just need to work on the balance.

Weekend Dichotomy

It was a fantastic weekend. I went to Northern California for a wedding and to catch up with some friends that have sadly fallen away.

I flew from Phoenix to Oakland on Thursday night, and the first thing I was fascinated by was the sky. I grew up in the Bay Area, I was so used to the way the sky was, that I must have never seen it. So I was rather amazed to find that it doesn't get dark in the Bay Area anymore (if it ever did). The combination of fog, smog and city lights, just prevent the sky from ever getting past a muddy brown color.

Where I live now it's "black-dark" (my daughter's words) by 8:30. Unless of course, you count the stars... there weren't any there.

Ok, so sky aside, I had an amazing time. I got to visit with friends, have adult conversations, have adult beverages, partake in adult activities - it was the first time I had travelled on a plane without my children since their conception.

On the flight home, I was feeling really torn. Torn from really enjoying being an unencumbered adult for a few days, and missing my children. I was feeling guilty for having such a good time without them, and perhaps guilty for not missing them enough; for being disappointed that this mini-break had to come to an end and that I would once again be thrown back into the sea of homework, chores, nagging, and putting my wants and needs completely on the back burner.

I'm not a religious person, at all, but whoever created children the way they did knew what they were doing.

As we were reading our homework on Sunday evening. My daughter, A, was reading me her poem book. She read the first poem (my favorite) which says "I am not a crocodile; I am not a bee; I am not a monkey; I am Me!" She showed me the picture of herself she drew with the poem, but she drew herself with long black hair (she's very blond). Her reason? "I wanted to be like you, mommy."

I'm back where I belong.