Cleopatra and carrot cake...

Okay, so all told today was a pretty good day. It started well because I actually got six hours of uninterrupted sleep. I think that may be a record for the last few months. I got online after getting Corey off to school, answered a few emails, and blogged a bit. Then I called The Honey. He is so incredibly sweet. No matter how little sleep he has had when I call, he never gets upset with me. Just talks sweetly to me and says all the things I love hearing from him. We didn't talk for long, about ten minutes, but it always starts my day off with a smile when I hear his voice. I listened to some music, and danced in my kitchen a bit, then out the door to Toni's I went. The hubby told me last night that my son Jamie had a football game tonight. I got myself all ready to go to work today, and at the last possible moment, decided to play hooky tonight to go to his game. I am so very, very glad I did. I had a wonderful time. We got there a little late because we had to go get Corey from school, but we got there in time to watch him play. He was so proud. And I was so proud of him. They tied again. They only played two quarters, instead of a whole game. They did that because the opposing team doesn't have enough seventh or eighth graders to play only one grade at a time. And they had a seventh grade game, and an eighth grade game scheduled for tonight. The same kids playing in both games. Poor kids had to play six quarters. As The Honey said, they usually don't play double header football games, so those poor kids were exhausted. We stayed to cheer them on. (It is okay to cheer for the opposing team as long as they are being great sports like that.) The opposing team won, and good for them. (Of course they had one kid who the scouts should already be watching.) Jamie had to stay down on the sidelines after his game, team unity and all. I sat and watched him joke and rough house with his buddies. I watched him throw a pretty spiral. I watched him. And I thought how much I miss him, and how much happier he is now, than he had been for a long time. I did the right thing for my son. I am not a failure. Having kept him home to make me happy, that would have been my failure as a mother. I just hope that someday soon I can get my life straightened out, so that he, I and the girls can be together again. I watched him playing with Kylie. Tickling her, and picking her up. Hugging her, and kissing her unashamed in front of all his friends. He even kissed and hugged me without thinking twice about it. What an amazing boy I have. I have decided not to take the day off for my birthday at work. Instead I will take the extra eight hours worth of pay, and use it to pay my cell phone bill. Well, at least part of it. I am going to call the company and see if I can change my plan. I just do not get enough anytime minutes, and I am tired of being offered money from The Honey. I wish he would understand that all I want from him is his love and his time. Both of which he provides in abundance. I spoke with my Grandmother tonight. I miss that woman. Perhaps I will take a trip to California before the year is through, just to spend a few days soaking her in. She is getting old. I finally get that. I used to think that it was okay if I did not talk with her very often. She would always be there tomorrow. But talking with her tonight, I realize that she doesn't have as many tomorrows left as I would like. My grandmother has always been one of my best friends. I can talk to her about anything. She never judges me, at least not harshly. She has saved my ass more than once. If I were to call her today, and got completely honest with her about what is going on in my life, she would send me money to make my escape. I will not get that honest. She deserves to at least think that I am okay. She deserves a little bit of peace. I wish I had made it back to see my Grandfather before he passed away. He was sick for a long time. Alzheimer's. I tried to help my Grandmother from a distance. I sent her literature. I put her in touch with home health care. It was all too little, too late. I know she misses him terribly. I didn't even make his funeral. What the hell kind of Granddaughter am I? That man adored me. He married my Grandmother when I was very young. I never knew my real Grandpa, and he accepted all of us kids as his. But I was always a favorite. I used to sit and listen to him talk about the war in Korea. No one else did. I would look with him through old photo albums, and listen to stories about when he was young and worked as a gaffer for the movie studios. He told me funny stories about Elvis (who he knew). He showed me pictures taken on the sets of some of the movies he worked on. My favorite was always a picture of Elizabeth Taylor on the set of Cleopatra. When he looked at that picture, his face would get young again, just for a minute. I remember when I was very young, maybe five or six. I was very sick, and I remember that he sat next to my bed all night. He put cool washrags on my head. He crushed baby aspirins between two spoons, and fed them to me covered in Hershey's syrup, because I could not stand the taste. I remember waking up, and thinking he was asleep, and him bolting upright because the sound of my breathing changed with my wakening. He was a great man. I remember his limp. He was injured in Korea, and one leg was substantially shorter than the other after the reconstruction. The VA never did get his special shoes quite right. I remember him giving my Grandmother and myself anything we ever wanted. Sparing no expense on our happiness. When I was very stupid and ended up in Texas alone at the age of seventeen, it was my Grandfather who insisted that I be put on the very next flight home to California. Home to him. The day I arrived, he cooked his famous carrot cake while my Grandmother came to pick me up from the airport. It was always my favorite. He even remembered to save the bowl from the homemade frosting. I always loved to use my fingers to clean every last taste out of the bowl. We should have seen the Alzheimer's coming. He had been getting more and more forgetful through the years. He forgot simple things. But I guess in my self-centeredness, I thought that as long as he always remembered what was important about me, that he was fine. The last time I spoke with him, he didn't know who I was. About ten minutes into our conversation, it hit him. And he told me that he loved me. I hope he really understood how much I loved him, and how very, very dear to me he was. He is the man I am always trying to find. He is the man I hope to someday have in my life forever. I want a man just like my Grandpa Joe. One who loves me unconditionally, and despite all my many flaws of character. He, so far, is the only one who ever has. I miss him. That's all, Goodnight.