How high can we go? - Diary 6

Romance is such a beautiful word, but brilliant is my favorite.

I remember when I was 15 and so innocent. I wanted everything and anything all at once. My friends had experienced more than I had, so I felt like I was eons behind. I believed in kissing frogs and knights coming to the rescue, didn’t you? I dreamed of kisses under the cool rain, lying down on the grass watching the stars, sipping a soda from one cup and two straws. Nothing would have made me happier than a hug from my prince and the acknowledgment that I belonged to someone. The problem was that my parents were overly protective, and I was no princess. I looked 10, and was too shy to ever look at a boy in the eye.

Back then I hated everything about being 15, 16, 17, because I felt no connection to anyone or anything. I tried desperately to get that inner diva to come out and show the world what she was made of. I could be witty and funny but never sexy; I had no idea of the power women have, that’s too bad I could have made history. Romance was always lurking in my brain as I read and re-read all the romance novels my friend J would send my way. She ate them up too since we both wanted something to happen but didn’t know what we’d do if it did. How much I knew about kissing was epic. I knew technique, facial movements, where hands went, hair flowing, perfume on wrists and under earlobes for effect. I was so prepared it was ridiculous. These romance novels described everything to a T. One in particular went really detailed on a kiss the woman gave this guy and I remember it until this day. I do but I won’t share the details, it’s my own personal thing.

I wonder if it’s ok for a mother of two to blog about kissing and sex, maybe I should stick to recipes of the day or how much having to do the same thing over and over again sucks.

We love to put our words and thoughts out there but then we are afraid to be judged. Deny it all you want but it’s true; no one wants people to think that they suck and not tell them.

Back to romance then. When I was 18 I met this gorgeous boy. He was 22, so he was really not a boy. K was so good looking and amazing I don’t even remember if he had smarts. I remember hard sweaty body after playing basketball in the park. I recall vividly when he looked my way and smiled, I nearly melted or peed myself, not sure which. That was the first time I felt completely female. I was always with my brothers so it was not the time or the place; I was a very responsible girl, well woman. I went every day to the park during the summer and he would always come after work and play ball with other guys. He was all sweaty but I knew he’d smell spectacular and he did. Once he came up to me and asked me if I’d be at the park for another hour and I said yes (maybe a little too excitedly). He came back and hour late on a Ninja motorcycle and looking amazing. I was so in awe that I don’t know how I made it through the next hour without passing out or looking severely stupid. I probably looked like one of those Jonas fans minus the screaming and giggling. I so do not giggle. I may snort, but I don’t giggle.


Christmas is around the corner and part of me is very sad, another part a little hurt and the rest is happy I have my babies, my husband, my family and the dog. That makes me smile. I’m really sad because my daughter is leaving next week. I can’t believe I agreed to let her go; I really should have stood my ground and said no. She’ll be with friends and family I’m told, but you know what, it’s not me and although that seems very unfair to her, I rather she stayed home. The rest of my husband’s family will be leaving for Florida because they have a free place to go and probably because they’ll have more fun with people they barely know anyway. Not to end on a negative note but I feel like I’ve been on the straight and narrow my whole damn life. I’ve done the right thing even when I wanted to bolt and spend Christmas and New Year’s far away from everyone. I’ve never left my parents to go spend New Year’s in the city yet everyone comes and goes as they see fit. My husband is right, I stress about people, I want them to be happy and I will totally change all my plans but the minute something better comes along everyone jumps to do their own thing. Maybe I’m just really boring huh?

This Sunday I decided I wanted to do a pretend Christmas dinner so A would not miss out on having dinner with the family. Not sure why I bother but I guess it’s in my nature and I can’t change that. PMS is here, can you tell? Thank god I don’t get violent, just mushy.