Saturday, July 22, 2006

The Mothering Side of Me

For those of you that know me, also know that my boyfriend has two kids. Ally and Clay come here on the weekends, and I'm forced to throw on the "adult face" and be another authority figure to them. Now, don't get me wrong, I like doing it. We went outside and played last night in the backyard, and I got all of my frustrations out by throwing a big exercise ball at their heads. Did it hurt them? No. Were they laughing and begging me to keep doing it? Yes. It must have been the funniest thing in the world to all of us, because by the time we got in, my stomach hurt from all the laughing. As soon as we came in, it was bath time. I started their bath water and commenced to chasing them around the house to get them in the tub. Peter just sat back and watched, as he generally does. I really enjoy doing the whole motherly-thing, but by the time Sunday rolls around and the kids are on their way back to their Mother's house, I'm praying for her to show up. Is that wrong? No. They aren't my kids, but I treat them as if they were. I guess I'm just a little too into my "Meghan-time". We got up this morning and Peter decided he was going to take the kids to Denny's, because that is their absolute favorite restaurant. I am going to sit this one out. The kids need some one-on-one Daddy-time, and I was just as content watching t.v., or sitting here typing my latest happenings to all of you. I got up and made sure the kids' clothes matched and put Ally's hair up, and then watched with great joy as the three of them walked out of the door. Yes, alone at last, and the only thing I hear is the hum of my tower and Mr. Big in the background singing about how much he wants to be the next to be with me. Life here in suburban hell couldn't be much sweeter at the moment. The dogs are, for once, being quiet and the cat is content as well sitting on the table beside me. My life, it looks like, has turned into that of a happily-married thirty year old woman. Well, with the hot body of a nineteen year old. Its not that bad, afterall. My Saturday morning has been turned into re-runs of Bill and Mandy on ToonDisney, with the promise of a full marathon of Lilo and Stitch following. The kids have returned from their breakfast with Peter, and Clay, the youngest, has resolved himself to torturing the cat. Excuse me folks, while I, for the millionth time today, remind Clay why it is not nice to pull the cat's tail or try and put her in the the pantry. More from SurburbiaHell later...after the kids have eaten dinner and taken baths, and it's "Meghan-time" all over again.

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