MissJessica’s blog

Wayne and I went out for a drive tonight with Brooklyn. He had to survey the properties who are potential clients for "snow removal" this winter. By survey I mean take pictures of. Our digital camera was out of batteries, so we had to use the video camera to snap a few shots. I felt like a total creeper sitting out in the truck taking pictures with the video camera. Wayne assured me that it was ok.

We were sitting outside one of the properties taking pictures and all of a sudden this big butchy woman comes storming toward us looking as though she was ready to kick someones ass. She asks, "were you just taking pictures of this property", with an extremely nasty look in her eye and a death threat tone in her voice. I think she scared Wayne. He replies to her saying, "I've been asked to take care of this property for the winter. I'm taking pictures to that I know how to properly set up a quote for the client."

It scared me because the woman who was about to kill us seemed to own the property, so I thought she would have known that someone was hired for this duty, but she didn't own the place. She was a tenant. But then a younger well dressed man came up to us and asked for some I.D. which Wayne provided for him. This guy then began to ask a million questions. He seemed very skeptical and very unamussed. Once he was done interrogating us he walked away seeming a lot less worried about the picture taking process.

As we drove away I could feel my stomach in my throat. I was embarrassed and humiliated. I felt like we should have been arressted. But I knew we did nothing wrong. However, I absolutely, positively will never go out for that type of work again. It felt weird and sneaky and creepy... Wayne can do that all on his own.

It's funny. I mean, I'm doing now exactly what I used to play as a kid.

House. Remember that game? You'd have a few friends. The most playful one would be "baby", the most caring would be "mommy" and the somewhat tomboy would be "daddy". Sometimes if you were lucky enough a boy would actually play house with you and he would get to be "daddy" but the tomboy would still want to be the "brother". Then sometimes, you'd get the girl who really wanted to grow up and she'd be "sister" who would talk exactly like a "valley girl" and would always be causing trouble.

Well, now I'm all grown up. I'm not playing anymore. Its not what it used to be. Its not a game. But its fabulous.

Hopefully Brooklyn won't grow up to be the "valley talking" trouble maker when she gets a teenager though, or I'm in trouble.

I just started a Book Club.

I posted an ad on the internet.  I'm scared.

I've had a lot of people respond to the post. Generally girls between the ages of 20 and 28. I think the turn out will be ok. Not GREAT, but good enough.

We'll read books about addiction. Semi-biographical.

I like Augusten Borroughs. Hes so real.

Sunday night. 11:00 pm.

I sit here sipping on beer. Dewy sweat dripping down the sides. Wondering what I'm going to write in my blog tonight.

I always wonder what I'm going to write. I always want to write something that is somewhat interesting. Though, I sit here knowing that there is nothing that's been happening in my life that anyone will want to read about. What is interesting to me in my life that will be interesting to anyone else. Someone else. Honestly, I don't even know whats interesting to me.

 I feel a void. A HUGE void.

Everyday when my baby goes down for a nap, I think about what I'm going to do. Always I go on line. I go on line to look up "new mothers". Or "at home activities". But nothing seems to fit what I'm looking for. In the end, I don't even know what I'm looking for. I do the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. Everyday.

I used to have a void in my life that was intolerable.

Now, I have a daughter. She's helped. But when she sleeps I think about my life. I love her. I LOVE Brooklyn. I really believe that there is no other word to describe how I feel, love. But even that word isn't enough. I need to make up a new word. But when she sleeps, I need something. I look it up on the internet. I look up void. I look up spare time. I look up new moms. I look up anything that will help me. But it doesn't matter. I can't find what I need... Because I don't know what I need.

Will I ever find it? 

What's your definition of home?
Submitted by NayNay72

Somewhere I can feel myself. Somewhere I can be naked and not worry. Somewhere I love to be. Somewhere I know I can be myself.

I never imagined I would be here at the age of 23. I always pictured my life to be something else. Anything else. I imagined myself in a career, or finishing up college/university. I imagined I would be living in a big city with a face paced life. I imagined I would have a lot of friends. I imagined I’d be with a man who knew what he wanted in life. Yet, here I am as a new mommy and homemaker, living in the same crappy city I grew up in, with no friends, a small amount of post-secondary education and a man who I love dearly but has no idea where he will be in 5 years.

I never in a million years thought I would end up with a man who worked construction, smoked a lot of pot, loved me no matter what I did or said or my parents just adored (potentially even more than their own children). He’s sweet, he’s simple, he’s full of love and he’s amazing. Now, of course that’s my version of him after only being with him for two years, but I can’t imagine that will ever change, though in the back of my mind I know it will. Everyone always warns me, not intentionally, that things will change, that divorce is inevitable, that we will fight, that he will care less, that he will change, that I will change. I don’t want those warnings, I don’t need them. I want to keep this sweet image of our lives together intact until it actually does crumble. I want to enjoy our time together but everyone makes it so hard.

The people who warn me are all the same. They are in unhappy relationships, or they aren’t in a relationship anymore due to a. Too much fighting b. Cheating c. Drastic differences d. Unexpected changes. You fill in the blank, you know someone like that, or you are that. Why can’t the happy couples tell me that things will always be wonderful, that things will always be just the way you expect? It’s like everyone else knows more than I do. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t, but just let us be happy and let us enjoy what we have.

The only person who seems to want us to be happy is my mother. She is happily divorced and not so desperately single. She sees Wayne just how I see him. Perfect. She may even see him more perfectly than I do. I have a feeling that Wayne is who my mom pictured herself being with. Someone who truly knows the definition of unconditional love because she screws up sometimes and still needs that love and support. My dad apparently couldn’t offer that to her. My dad can’t even offer her a smidgen of friendship after they split up.

When I was a little girl, I saw my parents as the perfect couple. Looking back on it now, I know I was wrong. I suppose it was just a hope every child has. I don’t remember ever seeing them kiss or hug. I never had that horrifying moment of walking in on them having sex (thank God). When I was 11 my mother started sleeping in a different bedroom which she claimed was due to her snoring (my father had put up with it for 16 years before that, you’d have thought I’d have caught on then). Though my parents never yelled at each other, they often disagreed.

Maybe my mother has more insight on how great a couple Wayne and I are because she was able to experience the not so good side of a sour marriage and came out of it with more awareness of what makes a happy couple that most other divorcees are able to experience.

I hope I am able to come back to this post in 30 years and feel the same about us then as I do now.

What are you looking forward to this week?

Wayne's cousin Chelsie is coming over Monday morning and we're having a full out "girls day in". Chels is a lot younger than I am so it may be harder to find things entertaining for both of us (she is in the 9th grade). I think we might just sit down and watch my guilty pleasure, The Hills. I know she likes that show and our On Demand chanel gets all three seasons.

Of course we'll spend the day taking care of Brooklyn, but it will be nice to have some helpful company to share some of the tasks!! :-)

As I wake up in the morning, turn on the coffee maker, brush my teeth, make an egg white omelet etc, I carry my little baby all around the house. Although she cannot speak yet, she listens intently while I sing, hum and narrate nearly everything I do. Most times I feel like I'm going crazy because I know that although I have Brooklyn in my arms, I know she isn't listening to a word I say. Most times, I feel like I'm talking to myself. I talk in high pitched tones that irritate me. I try to drop the baby talk, but I can't. For some reason I feel as though she actually listens to me when I do.

I went to the book store a few days ago with my friend Calista. We ordered our Chai lattes and I strapped my little rug rat to my chest. We walked around the book store "browsing" (I use quotation marks because when I'm with Calista all we ever end up doing is talk endlessly about our lives, our friends, our hubby's etc and no matter what we plan to do, the talking always over shadows the activity, hence by browsing I mean walking through the bookstore chit chatting and laughing until we nearly pee our pants). Brooklyn has an incredibley amazing habit of falling asleep anytime I take her out of the house, so she was asleep for our entire outting. Yet, I still spoke in those annoying high pitched baby voices that I hate so much. Not only that, but I got Calista speaking that way as well. We looked and sounded like crazy people.

What my baby does to me, she will never understand. And I wouldn't change a thing about it, no matter how loony toons I look and feel.

At the beginning of May I returned back to Ontario. I had spend 8 months away in beautiful British Columbia living on a ski resort. My other half (Wayne) headed out there a month before I did so he could get us set up with a home and some money so that when I got there I could move in comfortabley, and I did. Apparently I missed him... a LOT. A month after my arrival, I became pregnant. I didn't know I was pregnant until the beginning of my second trimester (luckily because I had no morning sickness.. ever!! WOO!). Wayne and I mist likely would have stayed out there for the summer, but we thought it was best to be with family while the baby was so little.

Brooklyn Nathalie was born June 5th, 2008. She was a month premature so she was just a tiny little thing. We couldn't be happier though because she was as healthy as a full term baby.

I am just now settling in at home. I'm a "homemaker" which is strange for me since I'm only 23. I feel so young. Its great though. I get to spend all day taking care of my sweet little babes.

Anyway, since I am home all day now, I thought it would be great to start blogging again. :-)

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1 comment

This is Brooklyn at 2 days old. Such a tiny one!

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This is Brooklyn and I just a couple weeks ago. I believe she was 8 weeks in this picture.