30 Day Writing Challenge: Day Seven

The Tattoo That Wasn't

We had talked about tattoos, my husband and I, in that way that people talk about random subjects when they are getting to know each other; the "have you ever's," and "my favorite_________ is," all the way to the serious ones, like "how many children would you want to have?"  We agreed about tattoos that were not against them, but neither of us would ever get one.  We just wouldn't; it wasn't who we "were."

Shortly after my son was born, my husband announced that to honor the nine months I carried our child and the pain I went through in childbirth to bring Duncan into the world, he was going to get a small tattoo of a Keith Haring crawling baby on his ankle.  And I, in that way that people who are women who happen to be ragingly full of hormones and also sleep deprived can do, completely lost my composure.  In fact, I either threatened to leave or may actually have stormed out of the house, keys in hand, and gone for a drive, leaving Jamie with the infant son.  There was screaming; there was yelling; there were floods of tears.  Because...this was not who we "were."  All I could see was that "we" had changed - that Jamie was now a person who got tattoos, and I was not - and that we had no future together.  I was now a dumpy, boring, mother with no edge left to her, and my husband was a biker who was going to seek out the kind of woman who DOES get a tattoo; yes, I went to those extremes.

Afterward, when I had calmed down, I explained all this to him.  I assured him that I would be fine with his Keith Haring crawling baby tattoo, but I still would not get one.  He assured me that he would NOT be tattooing anything if I felt that strongly.  Despite all our affirmations, we remain completely untattooed.  We do, however, remain married, and we are both just edgy enough for each other.

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day Three

My first love and my first kiss?

There were moments when I thought they were the same.  At the time of the kiss, I didn't even try to convince myself that I loved him.  I barely knew him.  I was the embarrassingly old age of 16, and he was a worldly 18.  I was star struck, and the things he liked about me were things that I didn't know yet how to like about myself.  The kiss lured me in like a siren's song, but I never really loved him.  I tried to love him; I tried more times than was fair, and in the end, when I tried to make him hate me so that I could walk away, I had to do the breaking.  The kiss was not that great in retrospect, but it was at night, in a car, with a boy who was older than me, and I was overwhelmed by the discovery that the world was so much bigger than I expected.

My first love took me by surprise.  I didn't want to love him.  I was too complicated.  There were other men I wanted to love me, but none of that was worth the effort.  I didn't know how to be that woman who would go out and make that happen.  But this one cleaned my car off in a blizzard.  He made me art work.  He shared music that made my heart want explode out of my body.  I could NOT.  I would NOT.  Love him.  I was the embarrassingly old age of 31, and he was...um...younger than that.  And I was too complicated.  I was just too.  I did my best to scare him so that he could walk away.  I would NOT love him.  And then I did.  The things he loved about me were things that I didn't know yet how to love about myself, and that faith lured me in like a siren's song.  Then he walked away because we both wanted different things.  But we didn't.  And then we did.  By that point, we knew of no other way to be than together.  We liked each other too much not to be friends, and as friends, we had to do the right thing by each other.  So we did.  And now he cleans my car off in the snow, puts air in my tires, and packs lunch for our son.  The things he loves about me are things I'm still learning to love about myself, but each day I am overwhelmed by the discovery that my heart is so much bigger than I ever expected.

Love Is Cage Free Eggs

Usually, my husband and I do our grocery shopping together.  It may sound like a waste of time, but it works for us.  He keeps me honest and somewhat frugal, and I remember to buy things I've forgotten to add to the grocery list, like sweet potatoes and juice boxes.  On Sunday, Jamie went shopping alone; we had returned from a weekend away, and Duncan was exhausted, strung out, and asked to stay home.  Sometimes, it's eye opening to see what he brings home when I am not around to influence his purchases. This week's revealing item was cage free eggs; those cage free eggs spelled love.

If you're landing here for the first time, you need to know that I have spent the last several years slowly, steadily, determinedly encouraging my family to reduce their impact on the environment.  We joined a CSA, stopped using paper towels and napkins, and committed to packing waste-free lunches.  I stealthily joined the Meatless Monday movement and stretched my flexitarian lifestyle to include meatless Tuesday. I made it a practice to bake my own bread for our weekly grilled cheese night and started making soup instead of buying it in cans.  We took a hard look at our recycling practices and endeavored to be the best recyclers we could be; we started composting.  We've made a lot of changes, and we know now that we have a lot to go, but we work at it every day.

Working on our food choices has been a long adventure.  Ultimately, I'm trying to feed my family more local food, less processed food, and less but more humane meat.  It is not a perfect world, but we try.  I have been buying most of our meat from the farmers' market or from a local, organic farm; when I can, I buy eggs from the farmers' market or I buy the most local options available in the grocery store.  This weekend, Jamie returned with two dozen cage free eggs.  I know they cost more; I'm sure he doesn't understand why I care about the chickens, and I'm not going to launch into a diatribe about the lives of the typical, "factory" laying chicen.  But the truth is, I DO care about the chickens.  Jamie could have bought any eggs.  We had a rough week; I wasn't going to complain about his egg choices.  He may have to live with my choices, particularly in what we bring home from the grocery store, but I don't believe it's my business to criticize his.  Nevertheless, there they are.  Cage free eggs.  He had heard my concern for the lives of the chickens, the healthfulness of the eggs, and the carbon footprint of our food.

To you, they may just be eggs.  Cage free eggs in biodegradable cartons.  To me, they're love.