Lori McC……..

As he looks deep into her eyes his fingertips move across her cheekbone then down the side of her face to her jaw. He moves his hand along her jaw, across her ear and then runs his fingertips through her thick auburn hair. Her head is spinning, reeling with emotion and excitement. As she struggles to quiet her mind she suddenly feels tears forming on the inside corners of her eyes. She bows her head in an attempt to hide her emotions from him, she doesn’t want him to see her crying. But he knows her all to well, he doesn’t have to see the tears to know exactly what is happening, her silence and body tells him all he needs to know. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry if I’ve upset you by telling you I love you but I couldn’t hold it in. Even after all these years the moment I saw you standing in the doorway all I could think of was how beautiful you are and how much I love you.” As he holds her face between his hands he gently kisses her forehead. She lifts her head and looks into the beautiful brown eyes smiling at her, he uses his thumbs to gently remove the tears slowly sliding down her face and then leans over and kisses away the new tears beginning to form. Again, her mind is screaming, “I love you too, I always have,” but she just can’t seem to find the courage to tell him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying, nervousness I guess,” she tells him as she tries her best to get her emotions back under control, ”I’m so glad you’re here, for a minute there I thought maybe you changed your mind and decided not to come.” As she sits next to him she tries to discreetly review him, she suddenly feels quite shy as if they were again young teenagers getting to know each other.  ”I was thinking the same thing as I sat here waiting but I’m so glad that we’re here together, finally,” he replies. They sit quietly for a moment looking each other over, the reality of the moment finally sinking in for both of them. “I hope you didn’t mind the change of plans, I know we had discussed meeting at your house but I thought it might be safer for both of us if we met somewhere in public. I must admit that even though we’ve spent a great deal of time talking over the past few months I’m still not quite sure what we’re doing or where we’re headed,” she explains. “We both know,” he replies, “that we couldn’t be sure exactly how we feel about each other, or our situation, until we were able to see each other and talk face to face. But I must admit that as soon as I saw you, as soon as you smiled at me and I was finally able to be close to you and touch you all of the doubt and uneasiness and fear disappeared, I have always loved you and I always will. If you don’t mind let’s continue this at that quiet little table over there in the corner where we can have some privacy.” As they gather up their belongings and order two more drinks the bartender asks, “so how long have you two been married?” “We’re not married, in fact this is the first time we’ve seen each other in over 25 years,” Jim explains. “Oh, I assumed by the electricity in the air and the way you two have been acting that you were either newlyweds or a couple that have been in love for a very long time,” the bartender responded. “Not newlyweds but yes we have been in love with each other for a very long time,” Jim responds.

As she steps down from the barstool he can’t help but watch as her thigh once again parts the hem of her dress revealing the beautiful legs that had been a cherished memory over the years. He follows her as they make their way from the bar to a small table in a dark and secluded corner. His mind is racing as he watches the beautiful green silk dress that clings to her body. He smiles as he remembers the look and feel of the body seductively moving in front of him. As he pulls her chair out from the table his free hand instinctively moves to the small of her back and he moves close enough to lean over and smell her hair. The feel of his strong hand against her back sends a tingle throughout her body, the hair on her arms suddenly raising with excitement and anticipation. As they sit together he takes both of her hands into his and gently massages her hands just as he had done when they were kids. Her mind couldn’t focus on what he was saying, she was lost in the feeling of his strong hands and how much comfort and safety and pleasure they had given her. “Oh baby, Lori, are you okay sweetheart?” “Oh, uh yes I’m fine I was just lost in thought for a second there, I’m sorry, “ Lori replied. As they sat together in the privacy of the corner neither of them were able to take their eyes off of the other nor could they help but smile as they looked deeply into each other eyes. “I’ve been such a nervous wreck over the past few days. I just can’t believe that we’re here together. I know we’ve been talking about this for a while now but I thought this day would never come, and to think that just a couple of months ago I just happened to open my e-mail and found a note that I’ve been waiting for and dreaming of for years, hello my name is Jim if you remember me please write back.” Neither of them could help but laugh at the thought that either of them could ever forget what they had shared and how much they had loved each other. “I regretted the wording as soon as I hit the send button but by then it was too late. You have to realize though that I had no idea what your situation was or where you were or how you would feel about hearing from me after all these years,” Jim explained, “the last time we talked we were both married and I had a brand new son but that was seventeen years ago.” “Well, I’m just glad you took the time to track me down or we wouldn’t be sitting here right now. So, after all the conversations we’ve had over the past few months I know we’ve agreed that we’d like to consider trying it again but there was one last obstacle to overcome, do we still find each other attractive, is the chemistry between us still there?” “Oh baby, I meant it when I told you how beautiful you are and I also meant it when I told you that I love you,” he replies. “But it’s been so long and we’re both older and softer and I’m so afraid that I can’t compete with the picture you have of me in your head. I need to know that you still find me attractive, that I still excite you, that you can’t wait to touch me and feel me against your body,” she explains. As she looks at him she searches for an answer. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever known. The moment I saw you when we were just kids I fell in love with you. That was 33 years ago and I have never stopped loving you and I have never met another woman that took my breath away the way you do. You were the object of my dreams when I was just a teenage boy and you still are. I know you want me to tell you that I still see you as the beautiful young girl that I fell in love with but I can’t do that, I won’t do that.” She suddenly feels the blood rush to her cheeks and her legs begin to tremble as she tries to understand what she has just been told. Should she cry, should she respond in anger, or should she just get out of the room and away from him as quickly as her legs can carry her?

She takes a sip from the drink that suddenly doesn’t seem stronger enough to sooth her nerves. As her hand moves the glass to her lips he realizes that she is trembling, he notices the redness of her cheeks, the shallowness of her breaths. “Oh baby, to tell you that you look like the girl I found completely irresistable would be a lie and we promised to be completely honest with each other. To tell you that you haven’t changed over the past 25 years would be to ignore or overlook the way you’ve changed with time and maturity and as a result of the life you’ve lived and the lessons you’ve learned. But I will be completely honest with you and tell you that you are more beautiful at this very moment than you have ever been or ever were and I wouldn’t want to change one single thing about you. Your beauty isn’t just the way you look to me physically it’s also your intelligence, your wit, your sense of humor, your kind and generous nature. That’s what I see, all of you. That’s what makes you beautiful to me. I will admit though that when I watched you walking through the room towards me I was undressing you with my eyes and I’m not sure how I’ve managed to keep my hands to myself.” As he leans over to kiss her she whispers, “maybe we should finish our drinks and go to our rooms, it’s been a very long, emotional day for both of us.” “Rooms?” he asks. “I was hoping it would turn out this way,” she replies grinning wickedly “that’s why I got a suite, it shouldn’t be all that hard to open the sliding doors between our rooms. Why don’t I go up and get ready while you talk to room service about some nice refreshments and snacks, I have a feeling we’re going to be very hungry and very thirsty before the night is over.”  ”Okay, but promise you won’t remove one shoe, or one stocking, or one piece of clothing, I don’t want to miss a single thing. I want to remember every moment and every detail of tonight.” 

Why did she ask me to meet her here? He gathered his luggage and walked outside to flag down a cab. As the cab chauffeured him to his destination his mind drifted. Where is she and what’s she up to? This isn’t exactly what we had planned when we talked about meeting but she asked me to trust her and I do. The car deposited him at his destination and he checked in at the front desk then made his way to his room just as her note had instructed.

Why was the clock moving so slowly. He made himself a drink, lit a cigarette and once again drifted off into his thoughts. Is she here? Does she know I’m here waiting? His heart was pounding, his breath became shallower with each passing thought. Calm down, he told himself, you’re acting like a love struck 16 year old. The thought brought a smile to his face, a sudden overwhelming warmth in his heart. Once again he glanced at the clock, eight o’clock, it’s time. As he made his way to the bar he glanced around wishing, hoping to see her waiting for her, for a moment angry that she wasn’t. She’s testing my patience he thought to himself. He could feel the excitement and anticipation of her arrival slowly filling the room.

He sat down at the bar, ordered two drinks and nervously lit a cigarette. He had chosen a place at the bar where he could see anyone approaching the entrance. More importantly it was dark and cozy and secluded. It was the perfect setting for the scene that was about to be played out. Slowly he sipped his drink half listening to the noise and conversation going on around him. His leg nervously jumping his heart barely beating. She’s not coming. She should be here by now, his mind screams. And then, she’s there, standing in the doorway. As she searches the room with her eye he sits there, motionless. He sees her eyes searching for his, for a moment her expression displays the fear she suddenly feels. Her heart stops, her body tenses, her mind races. He changed his mind, he’s not here. She could feel her legs trembling. Then, in an instant, she can feel his eyes upon her. His warm, dark eyes scanning her, reading her thoughts and emotions. The blood rushes to her cheeks, slowly she turns her gaze towards him reacting as if she were the shy young girl he had met so long ago. They remain quiet and still, their eyes speaking to each other, they both smile the same instant and uncontrollable smile. As she slowly moves towards him from across the room he watches her. Her face, the beautiful curves of her body, the movement of her hips. Closer and closer she moves. The details becoming clearer and clearer to him.

Her hair, how it curls around the edges of her face before it cascades over her shoulders. Her dark brown eyes, the moisture glistening on her lips. As his eyes slowly move further and further down her body he can feel his body tensing with excitement and yet he suddenly feels so serene and relaxed. His body tingling with the thought of finally reaching out and touching her. He absorbs every detail of her. The dark green color of the silk dress that moves with her body, the way it clings to her seductively and at the same time hides the secrets that lay beneath it. The buttons running suggestively up the front of it, her inner thighs teasing his eyes as her legs momentarily part the hem. His eye moves further down along the black silk stockings that enhance her legs, her feet slowly and deliberately moving towards him. He smiles as he realizes that the black  “come fuck me” stilettos were a discrete but deliberate promise of what the night would hold.

As she moves up next to him he can smell the scent of her. Not the perfume she wears but the scent that he remembers when thinking of the times they danced holding each other so close they could feel each others hearts, the hours they spent snuggled tightly together watching movies, the scent of her passion and desire. His skin tingled as she comes close enough to ignite the spark between their bodies, both of their bodies yearning to feel the touch of the other. They both look deeply into each other eyes, their smiles softening. As she lifts herself on to the stool beside him he can’t help but notice the beautiful flesh of her thigh as it peeks out from above her stocking when she crosses her legs. He wants to feel her, to touch her, to hold and kiss her. For a moment he’s afraid to touch her, he wants them both to remember this moment forever. Silently he looks deeply into her eyes, he leans over and softly whispers “I love you.” Very gently, tenderly he kisses her lips, the same tender, gentle kiss that stole her heart the very first time he kissed her.   

Recently, while enjoying an article posted by one of my new favorite pundits I read about a sweet message that was passed to her from a wonderful stranger who took the time to notice one the subtle messages that we all emit without even realizing it. The author was having a bad day and the woman in front of her in the checkout line at the grocery store took the time to speak to her and pass her a note. This was a note that the elderly woman had received after the death of her husband and son and contained some words of wisdom that helped her cope with her grief. The note basically conveyed the thought that people move in and out of our lives. Some of them are with us briefly, others remain for years but no matter what the case may be they are in our life for a reason. Each and every person we come in contact with brings some experience or lesson or message with them.

Now I have known this for a very long time, I’ve passed this wisdom on to other people in my life, never so eloquently but even so I have been a true believer in this message for a very long time. The problem is I sometimes forget this and fall into the old pattern of why me? Why am I being treated this way? Who in the hell is this asshole and how did I end up in a relationship with him? How in the world did I ever get so lucky to find someone who loves me for who I am and do I really deserve him? But again, I have used this explanation many times in the past, usually to explain a very stupid or unhealthy decision I’ve made. Somehow it’s easier for me to accept some of the things that I have experienced if I simply accept the fact that I needed someone to treat me poorly in order for me to realize what I did or didn’t like or would no longer accept or tolerate. Other times I used it to acknowledge painful experiences by accepting the fact that just as I had used other people to grow as a person so had people used me to experience their life lessons.

It isn’t easy or comfortable to lose those people that we love and hold dear and others we remove willingly. Whatever the case may be each and every person we encounter brings something special and important into our lives. They each bring with them some life lesson. It is through all of these lessons and experiences that we become who and what we are. We must learn to accept and appreciate the good and the bad.

So, it is time for me to thank someone that came into my life at a time when I hated who I was and was in the process of punishing myself for breaking the heart of someone I loved very much. This person taught me some of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned. He spent ten years teaching me how to be a better person, then I kicked his ass out the door.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for letting me pay all the bills while you spent your money on yourself. I have learned how important it is to have a partner that is willing to share the responsibility of caring for and supporting each other.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for quitting your job because someone pissed you off or looked at you the wrong way. I have learned how much I appreciate a partner that is capable of taking the good with the bad and is committed to his career.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for insisting the house be perfect and spotless. I now know that I am capable of keeping a house spotless but I will never again be a slave to housework. Also, I now understand that a house is not a home and a home does not need to be perfect as long as it is filled with love, laughter and respect.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for launching sharp projectiles at me while my back was turned. I learned very quickly to keep my senses alert and actually developed eyes in the back of my head, just ask my teenage step-sons if you don’t believe this is possible.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for using household furnishings as weapons against me. I am quite confident that I can still deflect a coffee table, a kitchen chair and large pieces of stereo equipment should the need arise.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for making me suffer through days and weeks of silence. I will never again remain silent nor will I allow my partner to remain silent when we have a misunderstanding or disagree.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for insisting on having everything your way. Never again will I allow someone else to dictate my thoughts, beliefs or actions. I will be more than willing to compromise and will expect nothing less from my partner, however, I am entitled to have an opinion.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for breaking my tailbone. Each and every time I sit in that particular position that sends sharp pains up my back it reminds me that I made the right decision when I removed you from my life.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for trying to run me over with the car. I now know that my reflexes are quick enough, and my mind reacts fast enough to enable me to jump on the hood of a moving car. Guess countless hours of cop shows growing up came in handy too. Bo and Luke Duke have nothing on me.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for not giving me the children I so desperately wanted. The thought of having to deal with you for the rest of my life makes me nauseous and makes my heart race. Besides the first time you touched one of them the way you touched me I would have been spending the rest of my life wearing striped clothing.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for clarifying my hatred of the word cunt. Never again will I quietly accept the use of this word as a description of me. By the way, sorry if I hurt you when you called me a cunt in front of the neighbors. I didn’t realize that I was strong enough to pick you up and slam you against the wall.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for allowing your girlfriend to visit our home while I was at work and for allowing her to leave her cigarette butts in the ashtray. I knew right away they couldn’t have belonged to your cousin Tom, it was the wrong shade of pink. I will never again settle for a partner that doesn’t have the balls to try to repair our relationship prior to picking out a girlfriend.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for treating me as your own personal sexual blowup doll to be used and abused whenever, wherever, and however you wished. I will never allow my body to be sexually used or abused again. I will never settle for a partner that does not love, honor, and respect me and my body. I am thankful that the love of my life gently and tenderly makes love to me instead of fucking me, unless of course, I ask him to.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for using me as your personal punching bag. I will never allow another man to hit me or raise a hand to me nor will I ever raise my hand to another human being. I know what it does to a person physically, mentally and emotionally.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for insisting we try marriage counseling. I appreciated the opportunity to share every intimate detail of our marriage with a counselor. Mostly, I appreciated his suggestion that we get as far away from each other as possible. He must have seen something in my eyes that gave him the the impression that I was about to snap. Or maybe he found that shopping list that I misplaced: shovel, duct tape, rope, lime, arsenic.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for not allowing me to quit a job that I absolutely hated because if I had I never would have met one of the best friends I have ever had. A friend that listened patiently and then never failed to give me a swift kick in the ass for settling for so much less than I deserved. A friend that helped me see my way out of a horrible marriage.

Thank you Mr. Asshole for teaching me all of these things and so much more. I will never be able to repay you for the very personal and private lessons. I wish for you only good things and hope you have a rich and fulfilling life.

No, really, I do.

I have been unemployed, as far as the IRS is concerned, since moving to the big ‘ol state of Texas. I don’t mean completely unemployed per se as I have been reminded on several occasions  that taking care of a household, step-sons, pets and a very sexy man is considered to be a full time job in some circles. When I say unemployed I am referring to the lack of a paycheck, not a lack of full time work. I never had a clue how much laundry two teenage boys can create on every given day of the week. However, it was the lack of income, as well as a feeling of being removed from the outside world  at times, that prompted me to seek some type of employment.  Just something part time to get me out of the house and still give me the time needed to continue taking care of my wonderful, fulfilling life at home.

It was brought to my attention that here on the grand ’ol prairie in grand ‘ol Texas it is not necessary to hold a teaching degree, or a college degree for that matter, to be eligible to act as a substitute teacher. Now, being a teacher was something that has intrigued me for quite some time but I never really pursued a college degree in teaching or education. Several years ago I was a volunteer teacher’s aid and tutor for kids considered “behaviorally challenged,” turns out that’s the long-handed version of ADD/ADHD/bi-polar children that really needed some extra help and attention. I thought the time spent in the classroom would help me decide whether I was cut out to teach before I jumped into college courses. It was a great experience, very challenging and rewarding, an experience that helped me decide on my college major - archaeology. But while contemplating becoming a substitute I realized that it would give me the freedom to work, or not work, on any given day, it would still give me time at home and with the boys and, it would allow me to interact with their teachers. I also realized that my prior school experiences were probably a bit tougher than this would be since I had worked with the “behaviorally challenged” kids. They were a little harder to cope with, however, I must admit those little tykes had a great assortment of very interesting medication, just glad I had the strength to go cold turkey. Not really, I’d never steal mind altering medication from a poor defenseless little child but that five second rule only applies to food, not medication. So, I’d give it a try I decided and if it doesn’t work out the only thing lost would be a few hours or a couple of days out of my life. So, yes, it’s true, I’m now officially a substitute teacher. I came home and proudly announced my newly found career path which was quickly followed by the statement, “oh my god what if I get first graders? Will I be able to handle them for a full day? Maybe I should stick with middle school and high school.”

I really need to learn some self-editing as I have become painfully aware over the years that when I blurt out statements declaring a concern or a fear it’s only a matter of time. Yesterday was my very first assignment as a proud new substitute teacher. The first graders were, well……………………..very young and very small! When the school called me the day before and asked if I could fill in I wasn’t quick enough on my feet to say no. Suddenly an old episode of WKRP in Cincinnati began looping in my brain, the episode when Johny Fever is interviewing a child expert. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with kids today,” the expert announces, “they’re very young and immature.” I could feel the blood drain out of my face when I contemplated spending an entire day with the same little runny nosed faces. Trapped! Would the principal come looking for me before they locked the doors for the evening? Would I be a sobbing mass hunched down in the corner of the room? Worse yet, do first graders know how and where to hide a body? Too late!, I’ve already agreed. Besides what’s there to be afraid of I’m at least 2 1/2′ taller than any of them and I carry a can of mace.  

So, here we go boys and girls, a day in the life of a first grade substitute.

I arrive in the office at promptly 7:30 to pick up the teacher’s notes, the daily lessons, a key to the classroom door, and a rather large bottle of Valium. As I make my way through the halls I smile with the realization that the over-sized drink I brought with me would be the perfect concoction to wash down mama’s little helpers, gotta love the guy that invented Tequila Sunrises! As I get myself settled in my students begin to wander into class. Some of them drop off book bags and backpacks then make their way to the cafeteria for breakfast, others remain in the classroom and begin the task of making me feel at home until the first bell rings at 8:00, the day has officially begun.

As I try to explain who I am and why I’m there the questioning begins. I think I did a great job of hiding my uneasiness and fear as I realized that I would be dealing with them for at least 55 minutes until they went to the computer/library lab. Then again, I don’t remember seeing that strange little gleam in little children’s eyes since watching that old classic “Children of the Corn.” Which brings me to my first question, I know I haven’t been in first grade in about 41 years but when did they start going to computer lab?  Back to the questioning, which in many ways reminded me of John Candy and McCauley Culkin in “Uncle Buck” - what’s your name, why are you here, where’s our teacher, when will she be back, do we have to put up with you all day, are we going to get ice cream today since it’s Friday, do you have any kids, how long have you been a teacher, do we have to do anything today, why are you writing the date on the chalkboard like that when it’s suppose to be numbers not letters…………. I was proud of keeping up with them despite the fact that there were 15 kids all talking at the same time. Okay let’s get started, how many of you need me to order a lunch tray for you today, hands up high in the air. Great 12, wait 15, okay what’s up with 13 - let’s try again, I finally get an accurate count - I think.

Finally, on to the first assignment of day. I’ve already reviewed what I should be going over with them and am somewhat convinced that yes, I am smarter than a first grader. Let’s read and write the words that I have written on the board and then phonetically sound them out: sit - s / i / t, big - b / i / g, fig - f / i / g. We’re on a roll until the questions start again, how old are you one little boy shouts from the back of the room. Well, I’m older than 20 and younger than 100 I tell him. Oh, you’re 99? I can’t help but smile as I consider the large spread between 20 and 100, I respond “no I’m not 99! I’m actually 99 and a half, it has suddenly come back to me that kids that age just love to add on that half. Okay, they’re starting to giggle and smile at me, this might not be as bad as I thought. We finish the lesson and it’s time to line them up for computer/library lab.

My first experience of lining up 15 rowdy first graders was a bit challenging and what should have taken no more than five minutes suddenly turned into 10. As we finally snaked our way down the hallway a woman at the end of the hall stood glaring at me. As she explains to me that we are five minutes late and that I am suppose to be the head of the snake I try to explain our tardiness, to no avail. She hisses at me that being a substitute is no excuse for the kids being late to lab, I promised her next time I would try to get them there on time. As I turned and walked back to the classroom I couldn’t help but think about how she had hissed at me and wonder just how big of a machete I would have to bring with me next time that would lop off the head of that snake!

After lab and a quick bathroom/water fountain break for the little kiddies, okay quick as in about 20 minutes instead of the allotted 10, we move on to math. This was obviously not a popular subject as the entire classroom very quickly turned from excited chatter to complete chaos. I position myself in the center of the room and in a very loud voice warn everyone that they do not want me to go hulk on them. This response was followed by a comment from one of the boys that it appears I am starting to turn green! Complete silence, beautiful! We quickly move through the math assignment which left some spare time before recess. As I attempt to find something to occupy them one little girl informs me that her mom is pregnant and she will soon have a little brother. I question her about her feelings about gaining a brother which obviously makes her feel a bit special. Very quickly the other kids realized that I was taking time to talk directly to their classmate about something very personal. From this exchange I gleaned the following information, fourteen of the fifteen children will soon be welcoming a new baby into the family. As I quickly digest this data I come to the following scenarios: 1. a lot of women here on the prairie give it up for the holidays, probably has something to do with eggnog; 2. there was one VERY busy cowboy rounding up prairie filly’s during the holidays, probably had something to do with eggnog; 3. a couple of the little boogers weren’t telling the truth.

The line quickly and quietly formed with the prospect of being released into the wild for recess. They’re really starting to respect me and are finally realizing who’s in charge, I thought. Out to the playground we go where they scatter in five different directions. About ten or fifteen minutes into recess I suddenly realize that my class had at least tripled in size. As I try to solve this cloning phenomena I realize that there are three teachers sitting in chairs next to the building, all chatting on their cell phones. Had I known that first graders don’t need a teacher in close proximity while climbing, jumping, swinging, and beating the hell out of each other I would have brought my own chair. Just as I was about to retreat to the shade next to the building, and the other teachers, one of my students informed me that one of the little girls on the huge wooden fortress/slide was crying. No she didn’t fall, he informs me, one of the boys slammed her head against the tree. I go to the princess’ aid with great concern, where the hell is her teacher and how could this have happened? To my horror she lay there motionless, her eyes closed, and she very slowly responded to my words of concern. As she sat up I asked her if she was okay to which she responded I think I’m okay ’cause I don’t feel sick or anything. Well, I’m a bit worried about you, there is a large red spot on your forehead and I think maybe we need to take you to your teacher. The tears well up in her eyes and I can’t help but be concerned about the prospect of her injuries then she explains that the mark on her forehead is a birthmark. And a very pretty birthmark it is, I tell her.  I quickly gather up my kids and we return to class. The break has allowed them to burn off a little excess energy which we all needed by this point in the day. 

 At this point of the day a teacher’s aid comes to my rescue. As she takes over the class I gather up three little girls and take them to reading tutorial. We each spend about 35 minutes reading books, sometimes silently at other times to each other. I especially liked The Pig Gets a Wig. Really funny with great pictures! Not much of a challenge but one of the girls helped me with the tough words. Back to class.

Lunchtime! My second favorite class of the day, right behind recess. I walk the kids to the cafeteria then beeline it out the door. I only have 35 minutes to bring my nicotine level back up to the appropriate level and there’s no smoking on campus. I didn’t realize I could squeal the tires like that. A quick trip home, four or five cigarettes and back to school. I realized on my way back that the day is more than half over, I might just survive this!

I pick up my kids at the cafeteria and we walk back to class. They have obviously consumed large quantities of any and all types of food that winds kids up. They are skipping, giggling, fighting, and making strange noises that only mothers love and appreciate. Oh well, I find them all quite amusing and entertaining. We take another bathroom/water fountain break and begin our afternoon.

The teacher in her infinite wisdom has schedule an hour of activity time right after lunch. This gives the kids some freedom to work in groups in several different stations scattered around the classroom. Some of them read, some work on puzzles, others build structures with Legos, I spend time playing letter bingo with a group. They are quite inventive and really seem to get along well with each other. As they go about their business they each take the time to come over and chat with me. Each has a question to ask me followed by a sweet compliment and a hug. I really like your hair, those are pretty earrings, I think you’re really nice. Do you hit your kids? Will you hit us? Funny stuff.  I’m starting to realize that first graders are very entertaining and very quick witted.

After another bathroom/water fountain break it’s time to get back to the serious business of learning. We begin to work on patterns. They are expected to copy the shapes I have written on the board and then complete the pattern using one of the shapes. Square, circle, triangle, star - they all copy the first three and just can’t seem to get a handle on the star. As I make my way around the room I help each of them with the star. I can’t help but notice that most of them know how to draw it and are actually just trying to get some attention. I gladly oblige.

An announcement over the intercom, any students wanting to buy ice cream needs to do so by 2:30. The kids erupt, only two have the money needed to buy ice cream. I ask the students what happens when only two people have money, they quickly respond - the teacher buys ice cream for all the students that forgot their money. As I contemplate this answer the compliments come fast and furious. I love your fingernail polish, it’s exactly like mine except my fingernails are purple and yours are red. I love your shoes, they look cute. I love your shirt says one boy, the girl sitting next to him calls him stupid because it’s a dress not a shirt. Oh, he responds, I love your shirt dress. Everyone gives me another hug. Okay, let’s line up to go to the cafeteria. This goes much quicker than previous attempts, we are about to file out the door when another announcement comes over the intercom, there will be a stranger alert in 10 minutes. Oh hell no, why did they get the kids all wound up about ice cream and then announce an alert. No time to make it to the cafeteria and back in 10 minutes. No ice cream today, all hell breaks loose. I had forgotten that first graders can throw a fit and cry at the same time. Suddenly we hear - teachers and students there is a stranger in the building please respond appropriately. With this the children all run to the corner of the room and get down on the floor, I make sure the door is locked, turn out the lights and take my place with the kids. Now I know this is necessary in this day and age but I must admit it has to scare the hell out of little kids. After the appropriate amount of time another announcement declaring the drill over. The kids burst into discussion each trying to explain to me the reason these drills take place. One little boy tells me he saw a man’s shadow on the blackboard, suddenly they all saw it. I try to calm them down but it takes a while. It makes me sad to think of what kids actually have to deal with, my childhood suddenly seemed so innocent compared to theirs.

Time for gym. A young woman comes and takes them outside for gym. This leaves me time to relax and regroup. I set up a television and VCR for the movie they will watch until the end of the day. When they return one last bathroom/water fountain break and then they spread themselves out on the floor in front of the TV. They spend 15 minutes watching a movie about meteorology before it’s time to get them ready to go home.

I release the kids that are being picked up to other teachers stationed in the hallway. It is my responsibility to watch over the line of first graders that will be catching the A bus. The kids are lined up seated in the middle of the hallway. Apparently, I have the honor of walking these little angels out of the building and across the schoolyard to the awaiting line of buses. As I await word to start the trek out of the building I stand guard over my charges. A little blond girl, dressed in a cheerleading uniform, informs me that the two boys sitting in front of her like her. Oh you must be very sweet if you already have two boyfriends, I reply. Her response to me takes me by surprise, not only do they like me they both want to have sex with me. As my mind races for the appropriate words I get the signal to start the journey out the door. Thank goodness, how do you respond to that statement coming from a first grader?

Down the sidewalk to the awaiting bus. Another teacher and I help make sure they all get on the right bus. Success! My day of teaching is officially over. I gather my things and go to the office to check out. How did it go, asks the school secretary. I think pretty good we all managed to get through the day.

Later that night when Mr. Sexy got home he asked me how it went and would I do it again. I would do it again if I’m given the opportunity. How did it go? I think pretty well, only a couple of problems. By the way, I think an eye patch on a 6 year old is kinda sexy don’t you? 

Last night as we sat on the back porch sipping cold drinks we were going over the events of the day, dealing with the events of the moment and planning events for the future. Our conversation turned, as it inevitably does several times a week, to my employment, or better yet the lack of it. As I once again ran through my options, or lack thereof until I get up off my ass and get serious, I returned to my interest in writing a book. You see, I had recently been told that I might have the ability to put a thought down on paper and just maybe I could learn to write a real story or better yet that book that I’ve been threatening to write every time I decide I’d like to work at home. I don’t know maybe it’s just me but there’s something intriguing about crawling out of bed, getting all the boys out of the house for the day and then lounging around the house in whatever garment I happen to throw on at 5:00 in the morning writing stories or yes, that book I’ve been threatening to write. I could eat whatever, whenever. I could take a well deserved break from my busy schedule to make my way out onto the porch to have an occasional cigarette or pet the cats or feed the dog or watch the hummingbirds fight at the feeders. Yes, I’m confident I could be self-disciplined enough to work hard and diligently even though I’d be doing my job in the comfort of my own home. It will be perfect!

As I explained the merits of this to my better half I suddenly realized the one draw back to this whole plan, what if I can’t find anything to write about? I reminded him that I’ve always been a bit shy and have never really been much of a talker so what if I run out of things to say, what then? How To manuals? So, after the laughter stopped and he had wiped the drink that had just erupted from his nose off of his face he smiled and assured me that although I insist that I’m quite shy and don’t talk much I might be a bit mistaken with the evaluation of myself. “I can’t believe you’d say that,” I responded, “I really don’t talk that much.” “You’re right baby, I’m sorry you talk just enough.” Yeah, that’s how it goes, I’m usually right and once he comes to his senses he apologizes, admits his mistake, smiles and then makes some loving gesture to make things right again, you know what I mean, “can I get you a drink” or “can I kiss you sweetly then look deep into your eyes while I tell you how beautiful you are and how much I love you” or “can I get you a valium.” He’s the love of my life, sometimes I love him almost as much as a bad case of the chiggers, but I do love and adore him and would be lost without him. Although there is this really great new invention, I think it’s called GPS or PMS or something like that. Oh wait I didn’t mean PMS thank god I haven’t had to deal with that in about 12 years. That surgery was the best decision I’ve ever made about my health. Anyway, so I go back to explaining to my husband that I’m afraid I won’t be able to write something long enough to be considered a short story let alone a book. Well, he’s not really my husband he’s actually my boyfriend at this point. Although he was my husband but we got divorced and then I married an abusive asshole, that was a huge mistake let me tell you, so once I came to my senses about being married to an abusive man I quickly ended the ten years of abuse. So, once I realized that “hey, I’m a darned good person and I like myself,” I re-established a healthy sense of self-esteem. I was whole and healthy again. I found the most wonderful man that made me feel young again, he was seven years younger than me and he made me feel like a kid again. So, me and the alcoholic stayed blissfully married for at least three years, it only took 14 more years to getting around to divorcing him but some things you can’t rush into let alone fit into your busy schedules. You know, I had to work every day and he had a round of golf followed by the important task of holding down a barstool all afternoon and most of the evening. It was his daily responsibility to make sure that his favorite neighborhood pub wasn’t having financial difficulties. But I digress. So…..that’s why he’s not really my husband but actually my boyfriend, although he was my husband at one time. You see I got an e-mail from him and we got reacquainted, next thing you know I’m moving to Texas to live with the love of my life, husband number one and more than likely husband number four, at least that’s the plan. But what really makes it confusing is his kids call me by my name, however, they also refer to me as dad’s girlfriend, it’s all quite confusing at times. Then just when I got all that figured out they started telling their friends that I’m their stepmother. I like that, well the mother thing, the stepmother thing I’ll get used to eventually if they would just stop putting that word “evil” in front of it.

“So, do you really think I’ll be able to overcome the shyness enough to be able to write a story or a book?” ”And why are you rolling your hands like that, it reminds me of that nursery rhyme, you know the one about rolling up the dough, mark it with a “B” and put it in the oven for baby and me.” I’ve noticed he does that sometimes right in the middle of one of my stories, I just wish he’d tell me what it means.

So, Kim very kindly and lovingly told me he had faith in me and that he thought I’d find plenty to say. Well, I call him Kim but his name is actually James Kim. When we dated in high school he used Kim so that’s what I’m used to calling him but when we split up and he moved to Dallas he started using his first name, Jim. His family and friends and co-workers call him Jim but I just can’t do it, I’m so used to calling him Kim. So I call him Kim but he answers to Jim also. Well, most of the time I call him Baby or Sweetheart or Sexy Man but if other people are around I call him Kim. There he goes again, rolling his hands.

“I’m thinking of trying to write a book about my life, you know I’ve had a few exciting moments over the past 47 years and learned a few important life lessons that I could share with the world. You know I’m a pretty open minded person and consider my life an open book. I’ve never been embarrassed to tell people anything they want to know about me. So what pen name do you think I should use?” “A pen name, why would you use a pen name?” he asks. “What, you think I’m going to put my real name on a story or a book? I don’t want people knowing what a crazy ass life I’ve had, people would know all my dark little secrets.” “I’m sorry baby, you’re right, I apologize. Would you like another drink?” “Yes, thank you but please hurry back so we can continue our discussion.”

Oh, he’s so sweet, another drink for his little girl but I think he might have used a little bit more vodka this time. “So, baby like I was saying I think maybe I need to come up with a name I can write under.” He’s trying to be helpful I know but Little Red Writing Hood just won’t look all that respectable on the Best Seller’s List. “Oh my goodness I just thought of something, what if I end up on the Today Show to talk about my best seller? Did I ever tell you I almost fainted once when I had to appear on television? Pictures I don’t mind, usually, but I don’t know about television. Well, some pictures of me I don’t mind like that one when I was twenty and hot as hell, but otherwise?” Oh, it makes me feel good when he tells me that I’ll always be young and beautiful and sexy to him, like I said I just love and adore him. “But seriously, now that I think about it I’m not all that excited about getting my picture taken. Oh, that reminds me I need to talk to the attorney about those naked pictures of me that the drunkass is threatening to post on the internet. Do you think there’s any way to stop him? Oh well, I’ll worry about that tomorrow. So, anyway, I guess I should try to figure out this blogging thing. Laurie suggested I start blogging but I’m not sure what that means. When you blog do you post little short stories, or long stories, or maybe just a few thoughts and feelings? I think she’s right though, that might really help me figure out if I can come up with enough stuff to get serious about this writing thing and would probably really help me learn how to deal with the shyness thing. What do you think baby? Oh, I forgot to tell you that nasty waxing injury is finally healed enough that it’s starting to fade, I hope it doesn’t leave a permanent scar. Do you want to see it? Yeah, you’re probably right it wouldn’t be good if the boys come out and catch me with my shorts around my ankles, I’ll show it to you later. That was a tough lesson, good thing I started where I did though or you would’ve been out of luck for a few days. So, I think I’ll do some looking around on the internet tomorrow and see if I can get an idea about this blogging thing. I might start trying to put a few words down on paper too but it’s just kind of tough sometimes to think of something to say. Hey sexy man, are you okay?” Oh look how sweet he is sleeping there, I know getting up at 5:00 really wears him out. Hey what a great idea, when I put my fingers in my ears like he does it almost blocks out the frog noise. “Good night sweet prince.”