I can be a very dramatic person.  I don’t necessarily think of myself as a drama queen, but I do think I have a tendency to make mountains out of molehills.  I can be very protective of my family if I think someone is up to no good where they are concerned. I have been known to bark first, ask questions later. 

I also think I read into things. Lord knows I am like my mother in that regards.  EVERYONE is out to get her, every comment is meant to hurt rather than seek out information, etc.  And while I don’t think I am quite as paranoid as she is, I do think I have a tendency to look for the hidden meaning in things.

Which is why Roy is such a good match for me.  It takes a LOT for him to get worked up, and he tends to give people the benefit of the doubt (something I’m not very good at).  And one thing I’ve learned over the years is that bouncing my annoyance or anger off him can save me some grief in the long run.

I will often go to him with some (perceived) horrible transgression…

“ROY!” I will yell to him, as I stomp into his office, “Do you KNOW what she said to me?”

“No, dear.  What?” This is his normal reply!

Now, this will sometimes give me pause.  He can come off as condescending, and I HATE that, so his tone will often cause me to stop and think.  Do I want to proceed and get ridiculed?  Is it worth it?  If I decide it isn’t, I give him the stank eye and say, “Never mind.”

But once in awhile, the transgression is so bad I have to risk the ridicule, “Do you know my mother told me I should do more cardio?! Does she have any clue how hard I work at the gym?  What the hell is that about?”

“Ok, and?” That’s it?  I am furious, and that’s the best you can do?  At this point, I am about ready to throw something.  Really, I am grievously offended, and that is the best you can offer me? 

“That’s it?  That’s all you have to say?”  This is where I cross my arms and attempt to look intimidating.

“Honey, you know how your mother is.  You work hard, and you look great.  Does it really matter what she thinks? Or anyone else?”

And there you have it folks… my bubble has burst.  My anger has left the building.  Granted, I am pretty sure my mother hasn’t said this, and this was just a made up example (though she has certainly said similar things), but Roy and I have had similar discussions over the years.  And while I usually hate hearing “Ok, and?”  It does put my drama into perspective.

I think I’ve written about this before, but I thought I would throw this out again.

It isn’t for everyone!  Being a SAHP (stay at home parent) that is.  And that’s ok.  Some people might find it boring, or some might find it too hard.  Maybe some people want the change of pace a job can offer, maybe you need the money, or maybe you like the money.  NO ONE has to justify why they DON’T want to be a stay at home parent, just as no one should have to justify why they choose TO be a stay at home parent.

BUT, what neither side should do is knock the other down.  Sure, being a stay at home parent can be boring; sometimes the kids drive me crazy.  Sometime I look at the family room and want to scream because I’ve already picked it up five times today.  It isn’t easy.  

And I used to work full time. That wasn’t easy either.  Every time I left the house, I wondered if I forget to do something.  If I didn’t feel good, I felt like I was not only letting the kids down at home, but the people at my work as well. 

It is tough to be a parent these days, no matter what your circumstances, but insulting the other side won’t make it any easier.

I try hard to be respectful of parents that choose to do things differently than I do.  You want to work full time… you do what’s best for you.  Roy and I decided I would stay home; that is what works best for us.  I don’t criticize you, so you don’t need to criticize me.

When people say things like, “Being home is so boring.  Don’t you want to do more with your life?”  How can you NOT realize that is insulting?  And just plain rude?!

Bottom line, MOST parents try to do what is best for their family… let’s just respect each other and try to realize that.

This post has two different ‘issues’ in it, but I have a full house today, so I am just combining them into one. Now splitting the posts into two.

Joe is 15 and a half.  We have teased him before that he is ‘clueless’ to certain things, that he is off in his own world.  And then he does something that surprises me.  Joe is a pretty straight forward kid.  He likes certain things - video games, computers, etc.  He doesn’t ask me for new things every day, and he doesn’t expect me to buy him things every time I go out.  He always looks presentable, and when he wants to, he looks very handsome when he dresses up, but fashion isn’t something he is overly concerned about.  He takes his schooling seriously (although math could use some extra attention), and I think he has really found his comfort spot with his JROTC class at school.  Joe has an amazing wit. Yes, sometimes he can be sarcastic and a smart aleck, but he has a great sense of humor and perfect timing.  He makes us laugh, and laugh, and laugh, but he is also secure enough in himself that he takes all our teasing in stride and will give it right back to us.

Joe will be eligible to get his driver’s permit here soon, and he was really hoping to get a job this summer.  BUT, the fact of the matter is, he is still only 15 and can not drive yet, and that seems to have really impacted many of the ‘traditional’ jobs that kids his age get.  So, when the opportunity to babysit one of Addi’s friends casually came up, he was thrilled!  I admit that I had my reservations… mainly because another tween in the house means the the noise level is cranked up a bit more… though to be honest it can’t go much higher.  

Today is the first day of Joe’s new venture, and I have to say… BRAVO!  He is doing wonderfully.  He woke up early, got dressed, and ate so that he was ready.  He has been entertaining the boys, but not hovering.  He is including his younger brothers, and being so sweet about it.  Dare I say, he is a better babysitter than Corey?  Yes, I might!  I am proud of you, Joe, and you are reminding me again just how mature you are becoming.

That is actually the name of a book.  My favorite memoir by a man named Jim Beaver (Supernatural, Deadwood).  There are too ‘definitions’ to this phrase that come to mind.

1) This is the way things are.  Life’s just that way.  Sometimes it’s hard; sometimes it is not.  Sometimes we struggle to put one foot in front of the other, and other times we skip.  

2) When the crap has hit the fan…  When you feel like you can’t go on… When you are ready to give up… Remember: Life’s That way.  Your life continues over there. Once you move forward… THAT’S where your life is, that’s where it’s going. (Hope I explained that well. If not, Jim Beaver does!)

I have seen a number of posts recently about the first year of parenting.  And yes, it’s easy to talk about the good things - baby’s first tooth, learning to crawl, to walk, eating solid foods, sleeping through the night.  But we don’t often talk about the ‘bad.’  And there is bad that comes along with parenting.

I read something in a magazine (it was actually something Timothy Olyphant said).  Women’s Health asked: You have three kids. How does fatherhood change a man?

His answer: It exhausts you! That’s how it changes you! My buddy on the show (Justified) is expecting a baby. I said, “Imagine I call you at midnight, and I hang up on you without saying anything. Then I call you two hours later and I hang up again. This continues. Oh, and by the way, in between my calls, you’re wondering if I’m dead.” That’s what it’s like.

Funny, but so true!  SO true! I can’t tell you, with five kids, how many times I’ve stood over a crib and held my breath just to make sure the boys were breathing.  How many times I held a sleeping baby for hours because I didn’t want to wake them and listen to their cries that I just couldn’t decipher.  No, it’s easy to talk about the good times, but the ‘bad’ times, well, it’s almost as if we are supposed to keep those a secret.  The silly thing here is that we ALL have them.  ALL parents have them, even if your child is the sweetest baby in the world, you have rough patches.  And if you say you don’t, you are either lying or completely delusional.  Harsh words, yes. Truth, yes!

Even now that the boys are older (almost 17, 15, 12, 7 and 3), I have moments EVERY DAY where I doubt my abilities.  I question if I am raising them the right way, if cereal is really a good dinner, and do they have enough clean underwear or should I do some laundry at 10pm.  When they were infants, compound those doubts times 10. 

Was I nursing them enough?  Too much?  Do I need to buy the more expensive diapers?  (Though with Dean I used cloth diapers.) Do I have AD ointment on hand?  What did I do wrong, and why does my baby have diaper rash… AGAIN?  There were times when I was exhausted.  I felt like I just went ten rounds with Mike Tyson - when he was in his prime!  And lost… badly!  So I put the baby down for a nap, nevermind that they probably weren’t tired… Mommy was tired.

I nursed Hayden and Dean for about 12 months.  I admit that I did it at the beginning because I wanted to pass on any immunity I might be able too, but I kept it up because formula is expensive!  And sometimes, I am cheap!  (There I said it! Roy will be happy.)   Why pay all that money for formula, I’ll just nurse them.  Plus it was easier… my boobs come with me, bottles could be forgotten.

Heck, I have even forgotten to get the older boys off the bus before.  Addi and Hayden caught the bus right in front of the house, so with them, it has been much easier, plus they had older brother’s on the bus with them, so they could get off with them.  But Joe and Corey was a different story… in kindergarten I had to get them off the bus and in our old school district kindergarten was a half day.  I didn’t get up to the bus stop in time once!  When I realized the time, I freaked out… I ran up to the school, and when the bus pulled up and my little boy got off, he looked so relieved to see me!  I felt like crap, but he was just glad school was over, and he could go home to watch Power Rangers.

Being a parent is the hardest job you will have.  You will cry, scream, and bribe your way through it at times.  You will pray for the school bus to come, so you can enjoy your coffee in peace.  You go to the gym, not so that you have a hot bod, but so you can get away from your kids.  Date night isn’t about romance, it’s about getting away from what’s become of your life.

But despite all of that, despite the hard times, you can’t wait until that bus pulls up and your little one (or big one) gets off with a smile on his or her face.  You come home from your date, and peek in on the kids sleeping soundly in their bed and you know without a doubt that the hard times… well, it’s all worth it.

ALL of it.

The boys only have three days left of school, and, truth be told, they aren’t doing a whole lot in classes.  Today Addi and Hayden asked if they could go to the store with me and I thought… why not?!

So, I picked Hayden up around 10:30 from school, and he and Dean jumped into the van.

“Mommy, how much does a Lamborghini cost?” Hayden asked.

I was stumped. How could I put this into terms he could understand?  When you’re 7, $20 is a lot of money.

“Are they like $3000?  That is a LOT of money!” Hayden continued.

“No, honey.  I’m not sure, but I think they are like 200k.  Maybe like the same price as a small house.”

“Oh.  They have doors that open up, you know?  Not sideways like our cars.”

“I know!  Isn’t that cool?” I asked him.

“Yeah, really cool.  Well, I want to get one when I get older.”

“That would be really cool, Daddy would like that.” I replied.

“Why don’t you buy Daddy one?  Can’t you go to the car store and buy one?” He pondered since he thinks we are made of money.

“Well, they are really expensive.  You have to be rich to get one.  And Mommy and Daddy just don’t have enough money right now.” I explained.

Hayden pondered this for awhile.  ”Well, when I get older, I’m gonna save my money for one.”

“You can do that.” I told him.

“Until I have enough money, I will just walk places.”

Ahh… to be young again! 

When Joe (he is 15 now) was about 8, I remember sitting around the dinner table one night and asking the boys what they wanted to be when they got older.  Ok, maybe he was a bit younger, but anyways… I am not sure what Corey and Addi said, but Joe’s answer was hilarious.

“I want to have hair!” He announced with conviction.

I looked at my son blankly. Joe had and still has a full head of very thick dark brown hair, so I was confused as to what he wanted.

“You have hair, Joe.” Roy answered drly.

“No, I want hair like dad!” He answered with excitement, “I want hair on my chest and my legs and under my armpits.”

I laughed hysterically.  My husband has a full chest of hair, and while I love it, I didn’t quite realize that the boys looked at his hairy chest as something to which to aspire.  Roy shook his head and chuckled.

“When you have to shave twice a day, then we’ll talk.”  He told the boys.

Little did he realize that the boys were eagerly anticipating the day when they would have to shave.  Along with shaving, came other ‘adult’ things - driving, earning money, dating, paying bills… (OK, they probably weren’t looking forward to that last item).  Shaving is a rite of passage for girls AND for boys.

And now, many years later, the dreams have changed.  I’m not sure if Joe still wants chest hair, and he is about to start driving.  Corey has already reached that milestone.  There was once a time when they wanted to stay up past 11 pm, and now they have friends over until 2 in the morning.  They wanted to see a Rated R movie in the theater, and now Corey can soon go without us (they don’t always check ID here, but either way he will be 17 in about a month!).  They wanted to be able to stay home alone, and now not only do they do so, but they often babysit their younger brothers.

Corey thought it would be so cool for me to ask him to run to the store for some milk, and now he gets to do that (or even get something for himself at the spur of the moment).  Joe dreamed of the day he would have his own computer - he does, along with a nice little flat screen TV and an Xbox 360.  (TV was a Christmas gift, and he bought the 360 himself).  Addi wanted his own room - he now has it, complete with cool black walls (he picked it) and a bed he helped his dad make.

The three older boys have their own cell phones (Perhaps that’s why our cell bill is over 200 dollars? I don’t know!), and Hayden’s big dream is to have his own phone too (in time, dear).  Meanwhile, Joe wants a car, and Corey is hoping to be a chef one day.

The dreams change and grow just as the boys do, but I miss the days when Joe’s biggest goal in life was to have a hairy chest.

Meanwhile, Dean’s goal right now is to watch The Amazing World of Gumball on Cartoon Network.

You can’t imagine the looks we’ve gotten when I tell people we have five boys.  I think one of the funniest little memories I have of this was going to Costco one day. Dean was just a tiny baby, and I used to hold him in this little baby carrier as he just hated his stroller ($200 for a stroller and the only thing it ever held was shopping bags!).  Anyways, for some reason, EVERYONE wanted to come with us to the store, so we had the entire crew in tow.  Roy was in the front with the flat bed from Costco, I was behind him holding baby Dean, Hayden was next carrying a bag from the bookstore (I think), then we had Addi (holding some clothing bag), followed by Joe with another cart from Costco, and Corey was bring up the rear holding a box full of meat.  An older couple was walking into the store, and the gentleman stopped and counted the boys.

“Look, Honey!  Five boys!” He noted.

“Wow!  Better her than me!” Was his wife’s reply.

I just smiled.  Yep, I’m a lucky lady.

I adore my boys. Truth be told, I feel more out of sorts with my step-daughter and my niece than I do my boys.  And no, not just because I am used to the boys running around the house.  I’m NOT what you would call a girly girl.  And it isn’t that I just don’t get into certain things. I actively dislike many things people associate with women.  Take manicures. Sure they’re great. It’s fun to have someone massage my hands, but I can think of other things to do with that $30 bucks.  I just see it as a waste of money.  Same with makeup.  My beauty routine consists of moisturizer (ALWAYS use this, with SPF!), chapstick (lipstick if I am feeling really frisky), and MAYBE mascara for special occasions.  

Once in awhile I look in the mirror and think MAYBE I need to start wearing a bit of concealer, just to even things out… but then I think… nope, too much work. Even getting a haircut is a chore I would rather delegate, if only I could!

Though I will admit to liking dresses, especially in summer, but only because it let’s me get dressed without thinking.  A dress, some sandals, and I’m done!  No worrying about things matching, does this go with that, blah, blah, blah.  Heels… If I MUST, but I have had the same pair of black pumps for 10 years… still look great though.

I don’t swoon over Brad Pitt, or the Twilight kid… pretty boys do nothing for me.  I prefer action over romance, and horror over action. 

And I think that’s why I feel awkward around my stepdaughter, Emily.  Aside from music, which we both love, we don’t have a lot in common.  Though she is patient with me (another ‘feminine’ trait I completely lack), and she does try new things while she is here.

I am loud. If I have something to say, I say it.  Yes, I try to be kind, and not hurt someone’s feelings on purpose, but I won’t hold my tongue because it MIGHT hurt your feelings.  In my house, I am Queen.  I adore my King and all our princes and our princess, but I rarely cater to anyone.

Growing up, I was an athlete, at a time BEFORE it was cool for girls to get out there and get dirty.  So, I often hung around boys.  It wasn’t that I didn’t like girls. We just didn’t have a lot in common.  The close girlfriends I did have were all like me.  We didn’t discuss the latest issue of Tiger Beat. We discussed which workout was the hardest and whether or not we should lift after school or after swim practice.  I had no interest in picking out my prom dress, mainly because I had practice and just didn’t care.  My mom bought it for me.

Even my wedding dress just wasn’t that big a deal for me.  (OH MY GOSH!  Yes, I really said that!)  I was excited for my wedding, I couldn’t wait to marry Roy and start our lives together, but what I wore was secondary to all of that in my mind.  My mother in law wanted to buy me a dress as a present, so I let her pick it out.  I will say she picked a beautiful dress. Roy loved it! I still love it. It’s amazing, but to me… it’s just a dress.

So, in short, having five boys for me is like my teenage years in the pool.  I was a leader, not because I was one of the only girls at my level, but because I was one of the best swimmers, and I earned my place on the team.  In my house, of course, I earned my spot… I’m the mom. I’m the one that carried and birthed the kids.  But running a household of boys, for me, comes naturally. 

I’ll take five boys over two teenage girls with boy problems any day.  In that situation… I would probably be locked in my room crying, complaining about being an incompetent mother! 

People have accused me of raising them - Mama’s Boys.  And no, it isn’t meant to be a compliment in some way, it was said as a means to insult me, but doesn’t it also insult my boys?

I know that traditionally, a “Mama’s Boy” is a whiny little wuss that is still attached to mommy via umbilical cord, boob (implication here is to stop the nursing), or perhaps one of those little restraint contraptions that some of us have used to keep our kids tethered to us at a crowded mall, amusement park, etc.  A Mama’s Boy can’t speak for themselves, they can’t think for themselves, and no woman will ever measure up to Mommy.  Mommy is the best; she is never wrong; she is a genius.  Mommy’s cooking is on par with a professional chef, and her Thanksgiving dinner will never be matched.

If that is the definition of a Mama’s Boy, let me make it very clear… my kids are NOT Mama’s Boys.

The boys don’t necessarily enjoy confrontation. On the other hand, they will not run from it either.  Some of my boys are more verbal than others. Corey, Addi, and Hayden-talk A LOT; Joe and Dean, not so much. But when they have something to say, they say it.  They have their own thoughts (why else would they refuse to watch Grey’s Anatomy with me?), their own goals, their own dreams and their own desires (Corey desires an iPhone, Addi some game or other, Joe a lovely, young lady in his class).  Yes, they know I am smart, but they also know that there are things I know little to nothing about, and they are cool with that because I don’t pretend to know everything and be infallible.  Ok, Ok… Roy and I do make a pretty slammin’ Turkey for Thanksgiving, BUT that is a team effort, and while I love cooking, I have made more than my share of ‘mistakes’ in the kitchen.  Though I don’t call them mistakes… they were experiments.

If the definition of a Mama’s Boy is a young man that isn’t embarrassed to be seen in public with his mother and is proud of his mom, then, yes, I have five of them.  If a Mama’s Boy is a young man that realizes mom (and dad) will make mistakes, but she is trying to do her best, yep, have five of them too.

Is it a bad thing that my 15 year old son will come into my room at night and flop on our bed and talk trash with Roy while they watch the basketball game?  (GO, MIAMI!)  Is it wrong that my 17 year old son admires me, and isn’t ashamed that his friends know it?  Should Addi and Hayden be embarrassed about liking to spend time with us?  Dean is a baby, so I wouldn’t expect anything less of him, but the older boys?  Is their behavior something of which to be ashamed?

They talk to us about girls, boys, friends, school, work, games. Is that wrong?  Are they supposed to hide things from us?

I have said it before, and I will say it again - they KNOW who their parents are.  We are not their buddies. We are Mom and Dad, and they respect that. Punishments will be handed out if necessary.  But they also know when the proverbial crap hits the fan, mom and dad have their back… always.

Do I have Mama’s Boys?  Not in the way I have been accused, but I do have five boys that love and respect me.

Addi used to ask us this when he was little all the time, and for a while we had no clue what he was talking about!  Addi used to have an imaginary friend named Jim, and I thought that is who Bob was, so I would play along.  I would ask him where Bob lived, and what we did there.

Addi would tell me that Bob lived far away, and that we went to his house for Christmas before.  He lived with his wife, and I just chuckled and went along with it.  Addi’s favorite story was the time Bob shared a Sprite with him when he was crying one day.  I just smiled at my little boy.

One day I was going through family photos and found a great picture Roy had taken of his grandparents.  He took it at a surprise party we all had for his grandfather, and the pictures shows Roy’s grandparents laughing together.  I had the picture enlarged and bought a frame for it and put it on our sofa table.  One day Addi was looking at the pictures, and I heard him yell for me.

“Mommy!  It’s Bob!” And he ran into the kitchen with the picture of Roy’s grandparents.

And then it dawned on me… yes, they lived far away (Florida to our Virginia), and we went to their house for Christmas on a few occasions.  One time Addi was crying, and Grandpa did indeed share his Sprite with him.  They had a sleeping porch attached to their house that we all used to sleep in when we went to visit, and sure enough Addi used to run around in their front yard with his brother’s.

I smiled, and assured Addi that, yes, it was Bob in the picture, and we would go visit him soon.  Then I relayed the information to Roy who laughed.

Roy’s grandfather used to tease the boys all the time, and we figured Addi asked him his name, and he joked with Addi that his name was Bob.  Addi believed him, and ever since then we often refer to Grandpa as Bob, which, in reality, was not his given name.

After Hayden was born, Bob and Grandma made the long drive up here to see their latest great-grandson and our new house.  Roy’s grandma was worried about the stairs in our home, but she wanted to see the upstairs because Roy’s mom told her we had such a big bedroom, so Roy carefully helped her up the stairs, while Grandpa sat at the kitchen table holding Hayden and talking to me while I cooked dinner. 

Grandpa was a Navy diver back in the day, and he told me a story about a squirrel. To this day I don’t remember a lot of the details because he would always laugh when he told me.  He told me this story the first time I met him, and he told me again when they came up to see us, though I think he was really telling Hayden.  He  asked me if I needed help, and I think he was secretly happy when I said I was ok, because that meant he got to sit there and just hold the baby.  When grandma was around, or when Roy’s mom was around (the boys call her memaw), they always took turns holding the baby.  

I never knew either of my grandfathers.  My dad’s father passed away when I was about 18 months old, and my mom’s father passed away when I was 10.  He was still in Vietnam, and because of government issues back then, my mother never went back after she left, so my sister and I never knew him.  Roy’s grandfather was a stand in for them in a way.  

Roy’s grandparents were so loving. They accepted the older boys and I right away.  As soon as Roy and I got married, they referred to me as their granddaughter.  

I called grandpa when he was in the hospital and even spoke to him the day before he passed.  He sounded strong to me, though I suppose his voice always did, and before we hung up, he said he loved Roy, the kids, and I.  Though I knew he did, it was always unspoken before that phone call.  

Roy had to go to work the next day, and he left before the sun had come up. When I walked downstairs to get the kids ready for their day, I found a note from him.  He told me that when he got home he wanted to tell me something about Grandpa, but I already knew what he had to tell me, because Grandpa had said goodbye to me the day before.

We got our pool passes last weekend, and every day since then the boys have been asking me if they could go to the pool.  The older boys understood that they had to wait, but Hayden and Dean do not have that kind of patience.

So, when Saturday rolled around and it was a beautiful day, I was thrilled.  Warm enough for the pool, but not disgustingly hot.  We had a lazy morning, and then Roy and I hit GameStop (time to let go of the Wii, as no one played it) and bought a DSiXL. I wasn’t sure if we needed it, but boy is it cool!  Nice big screen for Dean to play his little guy games on, and Roy even said he might check it out.  Then we visited Corey at Dairy Queen, and wondered why we don’t get the friends and family discount, but we had a nice, quick lunch and got to visit with Corey a bit when he took his break.

Back at the house, the boys were chomping at the bit to hit the pool.  My original intention was to get rid of everyone and do a bit of reading, but Roy talked me into going to the pool.  I protested a bit, but figured I could read one of my magazines, while everyone played.  His next order of business was to get me to wear my new bikini.

Originally, I wasn’t even going to consider buying one until I hit my goal weight. (Only about 13 more pounds to go!) But I was reading Self magazine and a reader’s comment really hit home for me.

“I would rather be a healthy and toned size ten than an unhealthy size 2.”

So, I looked at myself in the mirror.  Not perfect, not by any means, BUT my food baby is pretty much gone, my arms are toned (LOVE my triceps!), my legs are slimmer, and my muscles more defined.  WHY am I waiting?  I have worked my butt off (Literally, according to Roy!) losing the weight (about 27 pounds so far).  I am strong, healthy, and happy.  Why not just do it?

So, about three weeks ago, Roy, Hayden, Dean and I were heading to Target and I was scoping out a Victoria’s Secret swim catalog.  There was a cute bikini in there, and I commented to Roy that as soon as I got to my goal weight I was going to buy it.

“Why wait?” He asked me, “Just get it.  I think you look great.”

But I was too wrapped up in the woman I THINK of myself as - the 37 year old mother to five.  If I was going to wear a bikini, I was gonna make sure I looked the best I can be.

“NO!” I shook my head, “Not yet.”

“Whatever, Chris. You’ve worked hard, you look great, just have fun.”

And then I remembered that comment I read in my magazine.  Roy was right!  My husband thought I was strong and sexy. Why not just have some fun?

“Ok, I will!” And I closed my catalog with conviction.

“Sure, you will.” Roy didn’t believe me.

“Fine! I’ll buy one right now at Target.” How dare he question me.

“Ok, we’ll see.” And he parked the car.  

I got out and marched toward the front door with conviction.  Once inside though, I was lost… where should I start?  Then Roy brought a string bikini to me.

“I like this one.  Try it on.”

“Roy, I can’t wear that.  Do you know how much work those tiny strings would have to do?”

“You don’t know.  Just try it on.”

“Fine, but I’m gonna look gross.”

He shook his head at me, but I gamely grabbed my sizes and headed to the changing room.  I tried that one on first, figuring it would be a quick thing, and then I was amazed!

I didn’t look half bad!  Sure my boobs weren’t quite as perky as they used to be, and I didn’t have six pack abs, but I wasn’t repulsed.  I wasn’t disappointed, so I called Roy over.

“Ok, let me see.”

And I opened the door, and the look on his face! 

“Wow!  I like it.  You look sexy.  The underwear really adds a lot.” Hey, I hadn’t bought the suit yet. I wasn’t taking my undies off.

And I shooed him out and turned around again… Was that me?  Five kids, 37 years old… Could I really rock this? 

I thought for a moment, and decided, “Yes, I could!” And I was going to.

“Why don’t you try on some different ones?” Roy called to me from outside.  I said ok, and went back upfront to see what I could find.

I found a cute little bikini with wild colors and a crazy pattern and headed back to the dressing room to try it on.

I struggled into it… too many strings flying all over the place!  Once everything was tied tight, I called to Roy.

“OK!  I like this one.” I said, and I opened the door when I saw his hand wave at me from over the top of the door.

Again, with that face.

“Yeah, I like that one.  It has good coverage up top, and I like the pattern.

So, while I was changing back into my clothes I looked at the suit my husband liked.  It was tiny… nothing more than a few triangles of fabric and some string.  The colors and pattern were wild… but you know what? So what?!  I decided to buy it and imagined myself lying around on the cruise ship - a big floppy hat perched on my head, and Roy threatening to untie the strings at my hip.

BUT, I admit I bought it because I was doing so well… I had no intention of wearing it UNTIL the cruise, sure that I would have lost another 10 pounds or so.

But yesterday, Roy wanted me to wear it.  And I thought… well, I can keep my shirt on.  So, I put it on and off we went.

Once at the pool, we grabbed our lounge chairs, and I sat down after I took my shorts off.  Roy jumped right in (the kids had to wait because it was adult swim).

“Chris?” I looked up at my name, “Come on!”

“No, Roy… it’s too cold.”

“No, it isn’t… come on.”

“No, I don’t want to take my shirt off!”

He rolled his eyes at me.

“No, I’m too fat.  Not yet.” I grumbled.

“NO… YOU ARE NOT! You look great, come on.”

And then they blew the whistle for open swim.  Dean was jumping around, so excited.  And I looked at my little boy, and said to myself, “Ok, here goes.”

My shirt came off, and I took Dean’s hand.  He danced around next to me as we walked over to the stairs.  Dean jumped right in, and Roy swam over to him.  I took things a bit slower and waded in… boy it was chilly.

After a bit, I decided I would get out and read my magazine while Roy and the kids played.  So I walked back to my lounge chair, but I didn’t put my shirt back on.  I dried off, reapplied my sunscreen, and settled in.

And Roy was right… no one cared what I was wearing, the kids were having fun and I realized that for the first time in 18 years, I was out in a bikini. Yeah!