How to love her

Kiss her neck

Hold her hand

Let hugging her turn into holding her

Be patient when she's at her worst

Tell her when she's at her best

Be unconditional

Unwavering

Show passion

Take pictures of her

Whisper in her ear

Answer when she calls

Listen to her feelings

Be around for the small things

Make sure she knows you want her around

Forgive

Understand

Make her laugh

Don't magnify her weaknesses. She knows what they are. She's far more aware of them than you are. You see them, you deal with them, she owns them. She carries them. She lives them.

Love those parts too. 

Night Swimming

When you swim at night, there are no bees. 

The kids are in bed so there are no demands being made to hold them, jump with them, watch them, throw them, help them. 

It's just you and your body and the night and water.

You move smoothly through the tepid water like sliding through velvet. This is what you imagine a cloud would feel like if you could touch one.

A floating, weightless, deep, soft pool of something that all at once is and isn't there.

Under water there aren't any sounds.

The world drops down to a muted distance, so much so that your thoughts hush too.

No replays of your last fight with your boyfriend, no repetetive thoughts about things that need to be done, no stress, no worries, no cursing all the things you forgot to do but didn't.

The world drops down to a muted distance, so much so that your thoughts hush too.

Just bubbles, the swoosh of your arms or legs cutting through the water.

You feel your body stretch and move and you feel powerful.

Strong.

Night swimming is good for you.

It's important to be weightless, effortless, and silent.

To shrug off the heat and the sound and the mistakes of life, and sink down to the very very bottom of something so cool, so soft, so quiet.

It's important to remember what your body is capable of.
That you are not the sum total of your scars, your jiggly thighs, your soft tummy.
That you are still just as strong as you ever were.
That you are still weightless.
You are still limitless.
You are still perfect.

You are still free.

Six Things That Are Good Right Now

1. Making bacon and fried egg sandwiches for Jackson in the morning.

He likes to make the toast, put the mayonnaise on it, and crack the eggs into the skillet. It's pretty cute.

2. Swimming, swimming, swimming.

I don't think I'll ever live somewhere by myself that has a pool I'm responsible for, but I don't know how we ever lived without one two doors down, that we didn't have to pay for or maintain.

Hallelujah.

3. Roasted chicken flavored couscous with diced tomatoes and cucumbers, and hella minced garlic.

My addiction.

4. Sister Wives.

I've binged watched four seasons. I do not want to be a sister wife, I can not stop watching the damn show.

5. This song:


6. These kids:

Happy Friday

Querencia

Querencia: Spanish for the place where you are your most honest and natural self; your home; the place you instinctively return to; where your heart belongs.

Coffee with you in the morning.

Holding your hand in the car.

My head on your chest.

My side of your bed.

The scent you leave on my clothes.

The sound of your laughter.

Your hand on the side of my face  back of my neck  small of my back.

You when you're with me, me when I'm with you, us when we're Us.

I decided

I decided on you, that was the thing.

I met you, and my heart said "That's it", and I chose you. 

And sometimes it was hard, and sometimes it was sad, and sometimes there was the taste of Tequila where there should've been the taste of your mouth and the shape of things we should've been saying to each other and just weren't

Sometimes it was goddamn impossible, and everything was too jagged and summers were too long and we had horrible timing.

But other times...

Other times it was waiting for our breakfast table and you'd hug me tight and hold me against your chest, there in front of everyone like we owned the restaurant

Other times it was coffee on your back porch, eggs in a hole, showers together, my head on your lap

Other times it was fucking paradise.

We had joy.

Pure joy.

Because I knew you, and you knew me, 

And all of our mistakes and flaws and shortcomings...

Everything we'd spent so long covering up with everyone else

It was all just there, out in the open between us two, and we looked at the big pile of who and what we both were, and looked back at each other 

And just said 

"Ok"

And then you put your arm around my shoulders, and we carried on together.

Things I dont get about boys

So last week we talked about things I don't think guys really get about girls.

To be fair, I will admit that there are probably just as many things I don't understand about boys. 

1. Guys nights. 

I mean, I understand why there would be entire nights you dedicate to hanging out with the boys. Girls do this too, we call them Girls Nights. What I don't get though, is the shit you guys do on your guys nights. As near as I can tell, boys nights consist of a few guys getting together, talking shit to each other, and otherwise doing a bunch of stuff they normally just do alone, like drinking beer, and playing video games in silence - except when occasionally punctuated by the occasional aforementioned shit talking. When girls get together it's a fucking event. We wear our cute PJ's, we stock up on wine, we rent a bunch of girly movies, and then we spend the entire time talking through them, covering everything from relationships to fucking ghost stories. Or we go out and go dancing, get white-girl-drunk and eat a bunch of jack in the box. I don't know about you, but most girls I know don't do most of those things alone. 

With the exception of a few rough nights in my early 20's, I try to only fall asleep while eating a cheeseburger and crying, in the company of my besties.

2. Not knowing where anything fucking is. Like, ever. 

My dad used to say when my sisters and I were growing up that uterus' must double as tracking devices, because we always knew where everything was. This was not true. The truth was that he NEVER knew where anything was EVER, and his ability to look for things was about as on point as a blind person describing the color blue. Really, anyone who knew where their own asshole was on their body, would've looked like a crack detective next to him. This seems to be true for almost every man I've ever met, even guys that live alone. Somehow, the women they know that come to their houses once a fiscal quarter know where their shit is better than they do.

"Hey babe, where's my-"

"FOR THE LAST TIME, IT'S ON THE COFFEE TABLE, NEXT TO THE REMOTE, ON TOP OF THE MAGAZINE YOU GOT AT THE AIRPORT, JESUS."

3. The way you eat.

I think any girl who has ever lived with a man in any capacity firmly believes that the boys in the house are similar to garbage disposals, or the family dog when it comes to food. No matter what it is, if we can't finish it, or don't want it, the guys will eat it. And, if they're really hungry, it doesn't even have to taste good or have much flavor. I mean, I've watched guys shovel whole plates of what can only be described as slop, into their mouths by the pile, and then ask for more. Yet, at the same time, they are suddenly incredibly picky about the weirdest shit. 

It's like "Oh, that grey, flavorless, texturless mush? Sure, load me up." and then they're all "Is there fucking mustard on this burger? I can't even do it. I can't even fucking do it, bro."

4. Nice guys finish last.

Nothing infuriates me quicker than guys using this trite bullshit to explain away some bitch not wanting them. I mean, it's no different than a guy who is a total fucking asshole, writing off every bitch who doesn't want them because "she's crazy". A girl isn't automatically crazy if they don't like you, and it might not be JUST because you're too nice. Maybe there's some other shit at play here that made her not like you. I mean, just because you're nice doesn't mean you're perfect.

Maybe you smell like a ball sack.

Maybe you make a weird ass face when you're having sex.

Maybe you talk about your mom too much in a way that's fucking weird or uncomfortable.

Do YOU date girls ONLY because they're nice? Is that the only fucking thing you're looking for?

NO. So why do you expect for that to be the only shit girls care about? Nice guys don't finish last. Shitty ones who overly French pronounce French words, do.

5. Thinking your farts are funny.

I don't get this. I've said that before. I will never get this. I mean, let's be real, girls fart too, but when we do fart in the presence of one another, we don't laugh about it hysterically and then try to out do each other. We don't have farting contests with each other. We don't fart while we're laying in bed with someone, and try to shove their head under the blanket to make them smell it. 

Not fucking ever!

Well, maybe someday someone can explain this shit to me.

Until then, I hope we all learned something here today.

Father's Day

Mother's day and Father's day have always been funny holidays to me.

And by funny I mean mostly stressful, usually depressing and disappointing, seemingly pointless things.

I am, however, a faithful holiday celebrator. 

I love every single day between October 1st and January 2nd. I am a die hard Valentine's day supporter. 

Easter sucks, but I still do all the stupid traditions because TRADITIONS MATTER DAMN IT.

So, every year, when father's day rolls around, I try to be hopeful.

This year, instead of bitching about how explosive father's day usually is between my dad and I, I figured I would go the other way, and try to genuinely get in the spirit.

I grew up with a dad who was entirely complicated.

He was mean, selfish, neglectful, and emotionally abusive, and at the same time savored family tradition, and gave great advice on hair styles. 

It was neat.

When I had Lainie, I had genuine hopes that her father would turn out to be a good dad. At the time I wasn't 100% sure what my definition of a good dad was - the best I could probably describe it as was "nice to kids, has a job" - but I was still hopeful.

Things didn't really turn out that way though.

But then I had Jack...

And that didn't really go much better.

This may sound weird, but I would honestly tell anyone I know that the first person I ever met who I would describe as a great dad, was Bill.

It's a cheesy, trite, played out thing to say, but when you're with a man who is genuinely a good father, it makes you even more attracted to them, and on this whole other level too, that's really hard for other guys to compete with.

Bill wasn't just a good dad to his own kids, he was always kind, generous, and respectful with my own children, and never made them feel out of place in his home.

Watching the way he parented made me realize that there was this whole other kind of 'dad' out there.

Dads who know how to cook, and know all their kids favorite foods.

Dads who drive crabby, tired, ungrateful kids to and from countless events, practices, recitals, appointments, even when it means missing work, time alone, or time with their friends.

Dads who wanted to get up in the middle of the night with the crying baby, because he loved rocking her back to sleep so much he still talks about it, 17 years later.

Dads who never refer to spending time with their own children as "babysitting". 

Dads who go to the corner store at 2 am for baby Tylenol without complaining, who change diapers for you while you're in the middle of something, who talk to kids like they're human beings who deserve kindness and respect.

Dads who put up with stupid teenage-daughter-drama and still tell her he loves her before she goes to bed and when they get off the phone, every single time. 

Dads who show up.

Every time, no matter what, even when you tell them not to.

Here's to those dads.

Happy Father's day.