Like I said, y'all, I could never, ever be a career blogger. I have to have the luxury of throwing my hands in the air, slamming the laptop, and pretending my online existence never happened. Then of course, like any good Drama Queen, I must also be able to return, with flair, whenever I see the need... and ask, in my most southern-eye-lash-batting-voice, "Miss me?" Ahhh yes. Mommy Bloggers.
I thought y'all might enjoy this story... you know, to kick off your holiday season.
So to make a long, complicated story four chapters shorter, with much less eyebrow-raisin', Josh and I have known each other most of our lives. There are, indeed, pictures of us together in a sandbox here or a pool there. I remember when he dyed his hair with bleach (cough, yes, he did) and he remembers thinking I was a nerd.
As we entered high school, two seperate worlds divided us socially. I knew he was there, he knew I was there. He says I was a snobby band nerd, I say he was a loud, hell-raisin' redneck. I am not really sure the laws of physics allow "band nerds" to be combined with the word "snobby" in the same sentence. Annnnnyway. I certainly would have never been caught with the likes of him, and he would never associate with us "band folks." Ahhh... can y'all feel the love here already? His high school buddies often tell me that they remember seeing me as well - but that my nose was always too far up in the air to notice them. I say this has way more to do with the fact that I am exceptionally tall (for a girl) and they disagree. Oh well. At age 34, I am more than willing to admit I was missing out on one hell of a good time with those hoodlums. Boy have I heard some stories.
Are y'all ready for me to get to the point? Boy, I am !
I asked Josh the other day what he tells his friends about his Baby Mama.... like you know, because I call him "my hardworkin' man," and "Mr. Bullock" and other sweet things that will surely make y'all roll your eyes. But really, what DO dudes say about their significant others to their buddies? And so he answered with....
"I tell everyone I got the Homecoming Queen."
So here we are, almost 18 years out of high school, four kids, a house, two horses , a minivan and the whole nine. And HE thinks I was Homecoming Queen? Oh my. Houston, we could have SERIOUS ISSUES.
We live in some kinda crazy bliss we can't describe - partly because yes, we are having the most fun we've ever had with the life we lead ,and partly because most days we have no idea how we get from coffee to bed time. When you have four children, this is life. We sync our email calendars to remind the other where they need to be and when... and somedays I don't see him after he leaves until I realize it's his face I am lookin' at on the other pillow.
But y'all, I swear, I was never, ever the Homecoming Queen. Not even laughably close.
And so, I prepare to give him the news of our lifetime, the sentence that COULD BE a dealbreaker.
"Josh. Love. I was never a Homecoming Queen."
(insert me starting to babble on about my BFF, who actually WAS our homecoming queen, and then, my other cheer friend, who was Homecoming Princess, and blah blah blah)
And he says
Well. That's okay. You're MY Homecoming Queen.
Man. I love this guy.
Yes, really. That's the story. No, really, you can't get that five minutes of your life back. Just consider it a donation to the arts.