Oh, Be Careful Little Hands What You Dial

I tried at least once to tell myself I would laugh later. Maybe not in days but hopefully in weeks and at at the very least in years. But a woman in a closet sobbing isn't very funny.

Today was a perfect day. I got to drive to work with the top back. Sure, something blew into my eye, but big, dang deal, I had the wind in my hair and, well, who doesn't look good with the top back? And cats, me and my officemate have both had cats as pets. Something in common. She actually laughed with me today and there is a difference. A friend offered to take my oldest daughter to tennis and so I got to go to the gym right after work where some guy actually struck up a conversation with me as I climbed two miles of stairs while dripping with sweat. I love attention. Even when sweating. And then I got to take my youngest daugther to the park where I ran into one, two, three friends and we chatted. We had a wonderful quiet night at home later. We baked brownies. The girls giggled in the tub.

And then I stumbled. The day nearly done and I fell across the finish line. The little one wants to tell Daddy goodnight. I dial. I quickly say, "Emmie wants to tell you goodnight." I hand the phone to the toddler. She says goodnight and gives a kiss. I take the phone and click it off. Wait. What was all that noise in the background? A restaurant? A bar? He doesn't have... friends... Oh... my... God. I dialed the wrong number. I feel the blush begin somewhere around my middle and rush up to my head. I am crimson. I am hot. I dial back. "I am so sorry." He laughs. I tell him it isn't funny. I apologize again and he says he'll call me later. He's on business. Out to dinner. I tell the little one that Daddy didn't hear her and it's my fault and I dail the right number this time.

I tuck in the girls. I read them a book. I sing their songs. I pray their prayers. I walk to my bedroom, into my closet and close the door. I cry for twenty minutes. Great big heaving sobs. Not because I'm embarrassed, but because I should stand between their little hearts and any hurt. She asked for her Daddy and I handed her a stranger. Carelessly. Mistakenly. She smiled and didn't seem to blink any notice. But I know. I'm a poor sentry. I missed this watch.

So he does call after his dinner. He assures me he just thought for a second I was crazy and then he figured it out. He manages to make me laugh. Okay, more like a chuckle. But my eyes don't want to play along as they are still sad. He manages to convice me I'm not the world's worst mother. It's not so much his words, it's the honey and balm in the tenor, it's the warm place his words make for me. And I draw my legs up to fit inside. I lay my head on my knees and rest and listen. Odd, I fell across this phone line, and now it's my lifeline.

Quote

"The decision to become a mother is to know that your heart will forever walk outside your body."

So I have two hearts. One, sensitive and full of flight. One, touching and full of fight.

Both after my own heart. And, today it aches for them.

Like Two Peas in a Fishbowl...

We are very different, my new office mate and I.

I lay out my clothes for the next day the evening before. I think she sleeps in her clothes for the next day the evening before. At first I thought she was wearing the same black "iMac" t-shirt every day. But then I noticed subtle differences in them. The fronts are all the same, but the backs all bear a different message. So, really it's a uniform. A Mac geek uniform. Today she wore one over the other. Two black iMac t's at a time. Me, on the other hand, I was wondering this morning if it was too soon to wear my red pumps as I had just worn red suede boots last Friday... even though they were boots, they are heels, and red is red.

She's a gamer. She plays something called "Warcraft" on her lunch break. Me, I'm game. I just like to talk to the guys in the office and see if I can make them blush. Hey, that's a fun game.

For lunch she eats take-out that smells fantastic. I eat microwave popcorn that smells fantastic.

She stays late. I have little girls to get home to.

Every now and then I stand up and dance while I wait for my stuff to print. She ignores this. It's best, as the music is just in my head. Every now and then I sing. She ignores this. It's best, as the music is just in my head. I ignore her ignoring me and talk to her anyway.

We are finding as we work together that we each have a place. Sure, her place is a little more black t-shirt and full of mythical creatures... but she can find every file on the server and fix email issues. And my place has more red shoes and more real men.... but when your boss actually tells you part of your job is to "provide levity" you just go with who you are. Yeah, me and my office mate are different. She sighs often. I laugh often. We both slyly look over at the other and think "Man, I'm glad I'm not like THAT." It's working out between us just fine.