When I was Emily’s age, I didn’t go to college. Well, not a traditional college. I went to the college of Single Mom’s. Single Mom University. I didn’t live in a dorm in the usual sense. I lived in the 4-plex on Verndale Avenue. There were four of us and we all attended SMU. There was Missy, Sue, myself and another girl who didn’t really associate with us. There’s always one of them, isn’t there?
We didn’t really do the typical things that college kids do. You know, partying, staying up late studying, running around freely. We did things like leave our doors open so that the kids could travel from apartment to apartment, as did we. We’d put the kids to bed and then hang out in one of our apartments with baby monitors blaring and talk and smoke (yes, I smoked back then…) and watch movies. We’d watch each others kids when one of us had to run to the store or run an errand. It was fun. In it’s own way.
Part of my missing Emily is that I’m kind of jealous of the experiences she gets to have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous in the I’m-going-to-scratch-your-eyes-out sort of way, but in the way that I’d like to be there experiencing them with her. Or that I wish I had been able to experience those things myself.
I’ve never lived on my own. I lived with my parents until after Ashley was born. In fact, she was a year old before we moved out on our own. I wonder what I would have learned about myself, how I’d be different, if I’d had that opportunity.
It sounds like I’m being ungrateful for the life I have. I’m not. I wouldn’t give back what I have to experience those things or have different opportunities. I am the person that I am because of what I’ve lived through. I’m just having a little trip down Melancholy Avenue and What-might-have-been Lane. Still, I’ll take the degree I earned from SMU.
Here she is, our Cat Princess:
We moved her up to her dorm last Saturday. I cried a little. I miss her. Her daddy misses her. Her brother misses her. The dog even misses her.
That’s her sitting on her futon, under her roomy’s bed in their dorm room. That was the day we moved her in. Her roomy wasn’t there yet.
Did I say that I miss her? Em, if you read this, don’t get all freaked out, but I find myself checking your Facebook Profile page frequently when I can because I wanna know how you are and what you are up to. Is this normal? I’m not sure. Will it subside? I’m not sure, but probably. I like seeing pictures of you and your friends and how you’ve decorated your dorm room. I know you text me and stuff and maybe you’ll even friend me on Skype, if only to see Delilah and Isabelle, but sometimes I wanna hear the things you’re not telling me or I wanna read between the lines. Or something. Anyway, I miss you. It’s kinda lonely here without you. Besides the animals, I’m the only girl now.
Isn’t that attractive? That’s what I look like when I go to the gym. (What’s up with that bag under my right eye? If I have to have bags can’t they be under both eyes? I believe in symmetry, people.) I was using a slimmer hairband, but it wasn’t keeping me from having sweat dripping into my eyes. So, on the advice of my stylist, I bought some of these wider hairbands and they really soak up the sweat. Not to be gross or anything, sorry. By the way, I like sweating when I’m working out now. I know. Unbelievable, huh?
I was going to try a spinning or group cycling (as the YMCA calls it) class Sunday. I was all geared up. Then I started reliving my biking experience of a few short weeks ago. I got inside my own head and I talked myself out of it. What a dork. Anyway, so I went to the gym and I tried the regular bike again. I made it all of 5 minutes. 
My hips hurt. My legs hurt. My, ahem, butt hurt (even though I wore a pad to try to prevent this problem). Whine, whine, whine. I will not give up! I will try again! I’m just going to wait a few more weeks until my stupid hips settle down. (The hip pain is something I just deal with and is not related to bike riding. It’s just particularly inflamed right now.)
I ended my work out on the treadmill. Good ole treadmill. I’m not getting bored of it yet, so I guess that is a good thing and I have plenty of options and avenues to explore if I do get bored on there. I still have room to challenge myself there.
Tomorrow I might try swimming. I mean really getting into the pool and swimming. Not that “I think I’ll try swimming and then chicken out and go to the hot tub” sort of swimming. Hilly pointed me to some really cool videos on swimming and they really helped my confidence a lot. For instance, the way I swim was actually a swim stroke, I just didn’t know it. I thought it was something I made up in my dorky head. It was something I probably learned when I was in swimming lessons and then forgot I learned it and “adapted” it as my own.
Anyway, by the time you read this, I’ll probably have already swam with the big people. I will let you know. I know you’re waiting on baited breath.
Okay, there shall be NO JUDGING me! I mean it.
- How often do you change your sheets?
Once a month. No, it’s not gross. I promise. I like it that way. They feel all comfy to me.
- How often do you change your bathroom towels?
Magically, they change themselves. How, you ask? Well, Jason and I take our showers in the morning. Then, the next morning, the towel(s) are gone and we have to find a new one. Where are they? In Sam’s room or on the floor in the living room or on the computer chair or wherever he feels compelled to leave them on that day.
- How often do you buy new pillows?
I don’t really have an answer for this one. Whenever it starts not feeling poufy enough, I guess.
- How often do you flip your mattress?
This answer sorta same as the last. When it starts feeling a little out of shape. Or making me wake up all sore and stuff.
- How many minutes per week do you exercise?
Five to seven times a week, about 30 minutes per time. I am not kidding. That’s my new regimen for about the last month. At the gym I saw a quote that said, “Motivation is what gets you started, habit is what keeps you going.” It’s almost becoming a habit.
- How many times a week do you eat fish?
Not enough. I would only eat fish and poultry and the occasional steak if it were up to me. But, you know, I don’t cook, so…I can’t complain.
- How many hours per night do you sleep?
Eight to ten. I’m not kidding. I really need my sleep. Especially during the week.
- Do you make your bed everyday?
No. I haven’t since I got married. Jason and I used to work opposite shifts, so he’d be getting into bed when I’d be getting out. It just became a habit that I didn’t break. I don’t really care. I’ll make my bed if I want to or if someone is going to see it. Otherwise, eh.
- Do you wash your hair everyday?
Yes, although my stylist just told me it’s not good for it. I can’t go without washing my hair everyday. That would make me feel icky.
- Do you use just a bar of Soap, a wash cloth and Soap, shower gel and a wash cloth or shower gel and a pouf?
I use shower gel and pouf. Jason uses just a bar of Soap. Emily uses a pouf with gel. I don’t know what Sam does or if he uses Soap at all. Just kidding, Sam.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. So, what say you? Slob? I’m cool with that.
