ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

Tis the season to hate going shopping, dread the highway traffic, be annoyed with school closings, wipe constant runny noses and tolerate the in-laws.  I’m a big scrooge right now.  BA HUM BUG!  I just want the holidays to be over so we can all get on with life.  I never used to feel this way.  It was all so exciting as a child.  I should really just grin and bear it all since Max is picking up on my bad attitude.  He keeps saying, “I want Christmas to go away!”  I asked him if he is excited for Santa to come and bring presents but he responds, “I already have enough toys.”  Of course, that all changes when we get to the toy store as he insists, “I changed my mind!”

     Everyday he tells me, “My favorite seasons are spring, summer and fall.” I completely agree! But then I try to remind him of fun in the snow.  But that’s all I got…Fun in the snow.  The worst part of winter for me is being cooped up inside with the boys, so I am trying to keep busy and stay out.  Of course everything is child oriented.  We go to the library for story time or music shows, the inside park and play so the kids can play with a plethora of toys while the mommy’s sit around and chat,  the mall, which I am sick of at the moment and then there’s the evenings where we are stuck in awaiting Jay’s therapy sessions.  They only last an hour but they throw off my whole outing pursuit. 

        By 4pm Max has transformed into a beast.   I know he is over tired from not having a nap.  At four, they usually cut out naps, but I can tell his body is desperate for one and his four year old mission in life is to fight nap time with a vengeance.  4pm is my witching hour.  He runs around screaming and yelling, tries to pull his poor 2 year old brother around by his arms, terrorizes our tiny Chihuahua and is oblivious to anything I say or scream.  It’s like I’m stuck inside with a lunatic.  Therefore, I have been losing my mind by that point in the day.  My patients is wearing thin and I’ve been searching for advice from anyone.  I’ve tired everything; spankings, time outs, threatening to throw toys away, heart to heart talks, ignoring, keeping him busy with activities, movies, snack bribery, promises for something he desires.  You name it….I’ve tried it! 

            It has become a house hold in need of nanny 911.  I used to watch that show before I had my own children and found it very amusing.  I would laugh at those poor helpless parents being abused by obnoxious spoiled kids.  I had many answers (pre-kids) as to how I would discipline.  It all seemed so simple.  For example; if they scream that they don’t want to go to bed…Oh well! Lock them in their rooms and let them scream themselves to sleep.  Done!  Next issue please!  They won’t eat their food?  Oh well! They’ll eventually eat it when they are good and hungry and it’s the only food being offered.  Hunger strike over! Mommy wins again!  They’re having a tantrum?  Who cares! Let them roll around and wail…they’ll get it out of their systems!  Another problem solved!  I can’t believe these people really need Nanny 911 to save them.  Well, fast forward to about five years later and I am now one of those poor pathetic parents being abused by my first born. 

           There have been so many times Max has refused to sleep and the only answer left to us was to bring him into our bed.  This is horrible, because he tosses and turns and kicks us in the head.  We wind up with no sleep and he falls into the routine of yelling until my husband gives in and brings him back into our bed, once again.  As for the food fighting issue…that has been the hardest challenge of motherhood for me.  There is only a hand full of foods Max will eat and he will not touch anything else.  Even if I manage to get him to try something, he will gag until he is almost throwing up.  I tried my old disciplining philosophy of giving him nothing until he eats what I put in front of him but that leads to a cranky boy going to bed on an empty stomach (and he is so skinny to begin with that I just wind up feeling guilt). His pediatrician actually told me, “If he’ll only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then just give him the pb&j’s.”  That wasn’t the advice I was looking for.  I was certain that the Doctor would go with the old school way of thinking, “They will eat when they are hungry.  Just don’t give in by serving them what they want.”  But the doctor was basically stating, “Give in and give the boy what he loves, as long as it isn’t unhealthy and Peanut butter and Jelly is nutritional.”  My husband was witness to this advice, so I instantly lost that battle and just went with what I was told.  That was at age two.  Now, he’s four and he is still incredibly picky and demanding when it comes to food. 

     As for the tantrums, I had no idea that they would actually go right threw me and aggravate every nerve and bone in my body.  So much for ignoring that behavior!  I lose my cool right along with him and together we have a melt down.  I don’t scream and flail about like he does, but I hold it all inside and take it out on the hubby when he walks through the door five minutes late. 

            What goes around comes around!  And fate has shown me that we all need nanny 911.  No matter how tough, disciplined and strong you are….they will try to break you.  I’m not broken yet, but some days I feel like I lost the battle.  And winter only makes things worse.  Ok Santa!  Here it is….All I want for Christmas is…. Summer!

FAVORITE MOVIE SCENES. I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOURS!?

FAVORITE MOVIE SCENES

     I can’t believe that my 70 year old father in law beat me in recent movie trivia.  I mean I understand how he would know more about the oldies but he knew about a small detail in Brooklyn’s Finest that I didn’t even catch.  I thought I knew better but my DVR and the old man proved me wrong. 

     It was a great scene (spoil alert) where a corrupt cop, Ethan Hawk, breaks into an apartment looking to raid drug money.  He shoots all the unexpected drug dealers and then searches the entire place for any stragglers.  All the while a great Busta Rythmes song is blasting throughout the apartment during the bloody ordeal and then Ethan Hawk stops short to light up a stogie in the middle of his solo massacre.  He is all cool and collected and then he gets to work to find the hidden drug money.  He stuffs his pockets with all the cash he can fit and then unexpectedly gets one to the back of the head.  Darn! Just when you thought he was going to get away with it…someone got him.   At a quick glance I thought the shooter was a she (the do rag threw me off) but the actual assassin was just some random watchdog the drug lords had out-front to keep watch.  Ethan unknowingly passed him on his way into the building.

      My father in law and I debated this little intricacy at the dinning room table one night.  I, being a movie know it all, was relentless in the fact that the last shot indeed came from some chick hiding in the apartment when in fact I slowed mode the scene twice to see that the old man was right.  I’m impressed!  I mean…I thought he couldn’t even hear the TV let alone pick up on all the details.

            I love people who love movies!  Movies are awesome! Guess that’s why I always wanted to be an actress.  So I could dream about getting as close to a movie as possible.  There are some movie scenes that have stayed with me for a lifetime.  There is one scene in the movie Boogie Nights that I’m sure no one remembers but I consistently compare Mark Walberg to Jack Nicholson in that one particular scene.  It’s the one where Mark Walberg (Dirk Diggler J) is dragged to an eccentrically (shall we say) strung out dealers house to hopefully score some coke.  Mark and his porn sidekick have never met this lunatic before, they are stuck in his house and they are trying to concoct an idea to steal this guys drugs and make it out alive.  The camera cut’s to Mark Walberg’s stunned face while he is sitting on the couch in some type of trance.  That “look” he has on his face…it was so professional, so deep, so well acted that it reminded me of the same look Jack Nicholson had in a scene in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  

Jack finally had the opportunity to escape the looney bin.  He is sitting next to a wide open window.  The staff (evil nurse Ratched) is making her way in when they cut to Jack Nicholson’s trance like face…so professional, so deep, and soooo very well acted.  You don’t know why Jack didn’t fly right out of that window.  You can interpret it many different ways (our job as an audience) but that similar “look” Jack and Mark delivered certainly made the wheels turn.  

      Another great scene (according to me…but I’m sure you’ll agree) I just caught again on TV the other night was in The House of Sand and Fog.  (Spoil alert)The main character, Behranis’ son is shot.  Behrani (Ben Kingsley) runs to the hospital, covered in his son’s blood, screaming “I want only my son” over and over.  He finally makes it there and collapses on the ER floor praying, begging, and pleading with his god.  “I want only my son.” The acting is so moving that it tear’s your heart to pieces.  My face, like every other time I have seen this scene, is covered in tears.  I’m pretty sure Ben Kingsley won best supporting for that movie.  He sure as hell deserved it! 

      There have also been some great scenes on TV lately.  The hubby and I are big fans of The Big C.  If you don’t follow, I will just keep it short by letting you know it’s a dramedy (comedy + drama) about a pretty hip mother/wife going through stage 4 Cancer.  Its way more lighthearted than what you would find on lifetime but there are a couple of heartstring tuggers in there to bring you back to the reality of cancer. 

(Spoil Alert) In the last scene during season 1 her son was just recently told about his mother’s cancer.  The reality of his mother’s illness hasn’t fully hit home yet because she still seems very healthy (child rearing him like usual).  One day her teenaged son finds an envelope with his name on it and a key inside.  He somehow finds the storage room (can’t remember how) belonging to this key and inside the room is a dream car and stacks and stacks of presents.  He reads each card from his mother and every present is for every birthday he will have while she is gone…forever.   Her son breaks down and you can see the shock of death has set in.  I can’t tell you what a tear jerker that one was…especially if you watched all the episodes. 

     I have to say Boardwalk Empire has been really good this year! I am a lot more into it than last season.  Some scenes have been pretty awesome.  I bet Buscemi wrote those! I think I have a little understanding as to how he writes since I preferred the episodes he wrote for the Soprano’s.

     There is a great jail scene when Chalky white, the Mafioso authority figure of the African American community, has to share a cell with “let’s say” a bottom of the totem pole “trouble maker”.   This new guy has no idea of Chalky’s power and so he nievly agitates and antagonizes Chalky.  The scene draws you in because you just know this guy is going to get it, but you don’t know how and you don’t know when.  Until Chalky calls upon the other inmates to take care of business.  I know!  Sounds very familiar, but the dialogue is superbly unique.

     Another great Boardwalk scene was when a strong willed woman named Gretchen (main character’s mother) is taking care of her disabled husband.  She is feeding him soup in bed after he has just had a stroke.  Her concern and tenderness make you believe her love for him but then she see’s this is a perfect opportunity to confront her long ago rapist (her husband).  She tells him in detail of the trauma he had caused her over a lifetime.  The old man is paralyzed and forced to listen to every detail.  And then it is time for his punishment: She smacks the shit out of him, like a little bitch.  (The irony is prolific since the show takes place in the 20’s when women were the ones taking the beatings.)  Since the old man is paralyzed you feel slightly bad for him but you know he deserves it…and more! Great scene Buscemi!

            Oh! And I have to throw in what a fantastic job Leonardo DiCaprio did in The Basketball Diaries.  There is this one scene where he is started to go through terrible heroin withdrawal and his last resort is to go back to his mother to beg her for money.  He is pounding on the door, while completely falling apart, trying to get her to open up.  Every motherly instinct in her body wants to open that door for him, but she knows she can’t.  Leonardo screams, “I’m your son.” I am almost moved to tears just thinking about it.  You have to see this! It is the best acting I have EVER seen in my life.

**Warning: lots of cursing in this clip**

     I could go on and on about incredible scenes all day.  They move our hearts and minds, even though are behinds are nice and cozy J 

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN

            We had a small catastrophe last night.  This is a tough week for me because it’s the week after Christmas and everything is closed.  The kids are off from school and my job is on a two week hiatus.  In which case, my usual routine is squashed.  However, I’ve been doing a pretty good job filling up our empty time slots.  I’ve been on the floor playing games like a good mommy and I set up a play date for Max to see his girlfriend Christie, which was a big hit since they were like two wild monkeys (well more like my son was a wild monkey chasing after her the whole time) but they both ran around and burned off all his pent up energy. 

            On Monday we had a huge snow storm.  A state of emergency demanded my husband to stay home from work.  We fully took advantage of that rarity and went sleigh riding and enjoyed hot cocoa afterwards.  Other than that, it’s been a lot of car rides, toy story movies and free play. 

            All this play time was making me feel cooped up, which I figured was going to happen this week, so I took it upon myself to call our new babysitter, Joyce.  She usually watches the kids at our gym daycare and she’s really great with them.  She’s only 18, but looks 21 and is very mature.  She agreed to come that night and I informed Jake of my plans, which he bitched about.  He hates when I get a sitter.  He rather sit at home than go out on date night.  It’s a combination of hating to leave the boys and hating to spend money on going out.  Like I said, my husband isn’t cheap but he is the typical lazy husband after work, who just wants to come home and collapse on his couch in front of ESPN.  But mommy’s demands always win out and so we left Joyce with the kids.

            Max was happy to see her since she held the title of “favorite babysitter”.  I gave her my usual brief instructions for bottles and bed time and me and Jake were out the door.  We didn’t have any big plans on such short notice so we stuck to our usual routine of hitting the gym and then had the added bonus of going out for a quiet dinner.  We were only gone for 2 hours and when I walked through the door Joyce looked as though she had seen a ghost.  I immediately asked her how the boys were.  She said Max wouldn’t go to sleep (something about his ice cream was keeping him up? Hmmm…what ice cream?) And then she informed me Jay had a little fall “over there by the stairs” but apparently it was a little miss step and no biggy.  I blew off this small informality since two year olds fall (especially Jay since he is just now learning to walk).

            “He must have given you some scream!” I said to comfort her.  “Jay can scream like no other.  People stop and stare when he lets loose.”  I partially joked to calm her nerves some more.

            She then looked relieved that I understood and just before she was out the door, I asked, “He didn’t hit his head or anything? Did he?”

            “No! No! No!” she insisted.

            She actually demonstrated the little fall on his knees and explained how he proceeded to scream bloody murder right after.  Her initiative to demonstrate assured me that Jay was fine.  I paid her and she was on her way.  I went straight upstairs to check on the boys.  I could hear Jay snoring in his crib so my attention was toward Max who was wide awake.  The day had been so busy for him and since he didn’t nap at all I was curious to why he was still awake.  I sat down and told him one of my long made up fairy tales that includes our usual character named Michael (who is really Max with a very comprehensive moral at the end of the story).  But Max stopped me mid-story and said, “Are you done yet?”  This was a real shocker since he usually begs me to continue all night long.  “Ok, I’m done….why?”  I inquire.

            “I want to see daddy.”

            I let him go and he was relieved I let him out of bed.  As soon as he got downstairs and in front of his audience (us) his own story just spills out of him.  He then proceeded to tell us that Jay had fallen all the way down the stairs, all by himself, with no one in sight to help.  Our mouths dropped to the floor.  The interrogation began.

            “Wait….What happened?”

            He took his stuffed monkey and reenacted the fall from the top of the landing.  Thank god it’s a split stair case with carpeting, so if Max was in deed telling us the truth that Jay had rolled and tumbled all the way down the six steps, by himself no less, then it wouldn’t have been that horrifying, but why are we hearing about this from our four year old?  I started to shake and I can feel my throat clench, so I asked Jake to call Joyce immediately. 

            Joyce insists that she was holding his hand on the steps and he missed a stair and fell forward on his knees.   And that he did not fall all the way down the stairs and if anything like that had happened she would have called us right away.  Jake was ok with her explanation but he didn’t look too convinced to me.  Plus, Max kept going on and on about what an enormous spill it was and how Jay cried all night long.  Jake still seemed to be nervous and that made me very nervous.  I had to call Joyce back and hear her story with my own ears.  She didn’t answer my call, so I left a nice calm message that I just needed to know that Max’s whopper was false.  Minutes later she called back and said she missed my call because she was in the shower. (“Yeah right! At 10pm?!”)  She gave me her side of the story again and I could hear sincere concern in her voice.  I expressed my belief in her and I let her escape another interrogation.

            Jake and I checked on Jay about ten times that night.  12am, 2am, 4am, etc.  We practically slept walked into his room all night.  He slept like a baby that night while we had nightmares.  The next day our heads were clearer and we understood that minor accidents will happen.  We came to the conclusion that we really do like Joyce and she is trust worthy but we will no longer have any babysitter put the kids to bed.  They can stay up until we get home.  That way there is no reason for anyone to use the stairs and they are all stuck in one room until we return.  I thought that was a fair compromise with Jake, considering I thought he was going to squash the whole babysitting idea, all together….I was about to! But then I remembered. 

            When I was 15 I babysat a two year old girl named Kathy.  Her parents were friends of relatives so they trusted me.  Not to say that I wasn’t trustworthy, but 15 is still slightly absentminded.  Before they left for the day, they instructed me not to shut the second door of three, to their apartment or else it would lock and there was no key. 

After a few hours of Barney, I got Kathy all dressed to go out and enjoy some fresh air (which was very bold of me because I could have just sat her in front of the boob tube all day, like I was told to do but I was an attentive babysitter who wanted to show her some fun). 

            In my excitement, I shut that stupid second door and didn’t even realize it until we came in from the exhaustion of sheer playtime delight.  Meanwhile, little Kathy’s cat was hovering by our feet in the entrance way.  The cat wanted out and we wanted in.  As he scratched and begged to go out I asked the little two year old, “Kathy…does kitty go out?”  She nodded her head up and down and gave me the approval to open the door.  We all went out together and I responsibly looked for a phone to call my mother.  Of course, my mother was annoyed, but she still made it there in 15 minutes.  While Kathy screamed from being overtired we left a note on the door for her parents that she was fine and at our house.  I got the dreaded call an hour later from her father, “Anaya?” his tone started out solemn.  “Yes?” I hesitantly answered because I knew I was in for it.

            “Where is my cat?” he yelled into the phone.

            He didn’t even ask for his daughter.  It was the strangest thing.

            “Oh…I let her out.”

            Wow!  After that I was ripped to shreds.  It turned out the cat was “in-door” only and the fact that their house was right next to the highway didn’t make his tone any nicer.  I tried to defend my mistake by informing the crazed father, “Kathy told me the cat goes out.”

            “W H A T!”  “You asked a two year old if the cat could go out???”

Ok…so maybe that wasn't the brightest idea, but mind you, I am only 15 at the time.

            “Let me speak to your mother!”

            I handed her the phone and ran to hide.

            There was a happy ending to this story.  They eventually found their cat in one piece, their daughter was fine and well taken care of (even if it wasn’t at their house) and Kathy’s mother chewed out the dad for his lack of concern for their daughter opposed to the stupid cat.  Expectantly, I did not get paid and was fully shamed for being naive. 

I still can remember that day clearly.  It was a simple little accident that became a somewhat traumatic incident for me.  I didn’t want that to be the case for Joyce, so when she sent me a text the next day saying, “I just wanted to make sure Jay is okay.  I’m so sorry I feel horrible but I promise I would tell you if something differently happened.” I was perfectly happy to give her the short story of what happened to me at 15 and to tell her Jay was fine, everything is good and to have a Happy New Year.  She didn’t need to be shamed, but I’m sure she will never forget it.

IT'S A THANKLESS JOB

I’ve been spending some time in this play group I found for the boys.  It’s basically a room filled to the brim with toys so the kids can enjoy free play time while the mommy’s sit around and chat.  It’s so obvious how we are all dying for some adult conversation.  Some of us have even expressed those feeling aloud and we all laugh because it is a relief to know we are not the only ones thinking this way. 

I venture over there different times of the day according to our eating, sleeping, school, and therapy schedule, so I get to meet someone knew almost every time.  Our topic of conversation is a broad range of subjects, for example: vacations, husbands, jobs, daily routine with the children and work or past jobs before the kids came along.  The careers of these women amaze me.  I am in the tri-state area and being so close to New York City brings an array of interesting professions.  I’ve met a book editor whose husband was also in publishing.   Of course I immediately jumped on that one.  I tried to slyly throw in my self published book into our conversation but she told me to find a literary agent specializing in the Young Adult book genre and basically sent me on my way and out of her hair.  I’m sure her husband didn’t par take in the kind of publishing I am looking for but what established publisher doesn’t know of someone to hook you up with?  However, I’m sure a mommy in passing was not on this woman’s high priority list to go and bug her husband about.

I’ve met teachers, therapist, and business owners.  Everyone had something pretty interesting going on before the kids.  And every one of those women are proud and enthused to be talking about their pasts.  Even I get excited to say I work part time from home and once in a while, when I’m feeling a little brave, I’ll throw in that I am writing a book.  That’s usually a crowd pleaser.

I think we are all just happy to be getting a break from our current diaper, nap, feeding and frenzied routines.  Not that it isn't enjoyable to swap notes on the best time to potty train, but when you are living in the mommyhood moment it doesn’t appear as adventurous as say, traveling into the city to meet clients for a cocktail.  Personally, that would suck for me.  I have no sense of direction so traveling into the city would be like dumping me into the woods at night.  I would squabble around for shelter until someone came to save me.  Plus, I don’t like knowing that I have to do something.  Of course I will get out of bed and get to an appointment on time, but I kind of like having the say as to who, where, when, why and how.  That’s the best part about staying at home.  I’m the boss, I call the shots and we do what I want, when I want.  Even with my part time job I make the hours and if I get board I can shut down the business early for the day and work a little extra when I’m up for it.

Not to go completely off topic, but I have to interject a critical and ironic point into this blog, right now.  Can I tell you…I have shushed and shooed my four year old about 15 times since I have been writing.  Its 2:30 pm, he is board and will not stop bugging me.  Some would say I should stop writing and go and play with him but logically I tell you, I played with him all morning long and then took him straight to the play group to try and hopefully exhaust him a little.  But no such luck!  He is on me like a magnet.  This is the problem, I say!  No breathing room when you’re a stay at home mom.  However, I could go back and forth over the good and the bad all day long.  I’m just staying focused on the fact that I am the only one here with my kids during these tender molding years.  My intentions are good, my love is endless and I want the best for them always, so I’m going to stick it out with this thankless job because I know, down the road,  I will thank myself that I did.

HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH

When I was a teenager I always had a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.  I missed a ton of school for that very reason.  I still hate getting up in the morning.  It’s gotten easier with age and of course children train your body to get up in an instant.  Plus, getting up at 7 in the morning is a hell of a lot easier than getting up every three hours to nurse or jump out of bed for those terrible mid-night screams that you MUST tend to. 

Thinking back I can still remember the dread getting up for high school, until I met my high school crush.  He was extremely tall with big sparkling blue eyes and he resembled my movie star idol, Leonardo DiCaprio.  Of course he was Mr. Popularity, class clown and rumor had it, came from a family rolling in cash.  Money was never a big deal to me but I always imagined him throwing big (underage drinking) parties in his parents mansion.  I can remember secretly swooning over him in my head every time he passed me in the hallway but god forbid one of the “popular girls” caught me staring at him. (Jealous girls in high school would be a whole different chapter of its own). 

Anyway, every time I saw him, the fast heartbeat would kick in along with the sweaty palms and of course, the extreme shyness never helped matters.  All of these horrible crush symptoms kept me from saying two words to the boy.  So I just admired him from afar.  But he sure as hell got me out of bed in the mornings. 

I always tried to pretty myself up and since that was a difficult task, being that I went to catholic school and we had to wear uniforms, I would improvise by rolling up my skirt as high as it could go without showing all the goods.  The nuns hated that and would scream “demerit” as I was forced to roll it back down.  Once I rolled my skirt up so short that my ass must have been hanging out because my class was in silent hysterics when I was called up to the chalk board.  I viciously turned to face the class with my cheeks all flushed but no one dare respond.  Later I was told it was my other cheeks that made the class roar.  “Thank God” I thought.  A little ass in catholic school was all too common, if you catch my drift.  Not saying that all catholic school girls are sluts, but there is a reason that stereo type came to be.

Even though I tried to catch my crushes attention with a short skirt, the years past and nothing came of it.  By senior year I think everyone, but him, knew that he was my boy of choice.  A week before graduation the seniors had a field trip.  I sat on the bus and long behold guess who sat down right beside me?  It was him! And he was close! What was I to do?  Even though my instincts were to run, I had no choice but to confront my fantasy.  He instantly smirked! He must have known I loved him.  It was obvious!

I don’t really remember our conversation but I remember laying it out for him, pretty clear.  I had this one chance to let him know what I was thinking and so….I did!  Sometimes fear and intimidation makes me downright blunt and aggressive.  I was 17, my sex drive was bursting at the seams and my heartthrob was in arms length.  If I had the hormones of a boy, I might have just jumped right in his lap.  He liked the attention (what boy wouldn’t?!)  He took my number and promised to call.  But a couple of weeks had passed and the call never came.  I wasn’t as heart broken as I thought I would be.  I was actually relieved that I got to express a little bit of how I felt to him.  I never came out and said, “I adore you!” but giving him my number was the best way I could admit my immature love.

Our ten year reunion passed a couple of years back.  I didn’t go because I’ve never really kept in touch with people from high school and I hate doing the quick catch up of what I have been doing with my life over the years.  I do have some wonderful occurrences to brag about like my two boys, my husband, our “perfect” little life but to have to go to a place where you are expected to dish it out to people you can barely remember, seems rather dull to me.  That and the fact that my husband hates to socialize therefore I would pretty much be on my own, doesn’t help matters.  However, I would get to catch another glimpse of my high school crush.  That would put a little smile on my face.  My husband knows all about him.  We had joked about my puppy dog love when reunion time came around.  But all jokes aside, my husband would be furious if he caught my eyes wandering around the room looking for Amor (shall we call him). 

If I gave you his real name, you may be familiar with it.  His name was in the papers recently.  Actually on the cover of the paper.  Turns out my crush never left our high school.  I always imagined he went off to run “daddy’s company” and became a multi-billion air somewhere.  But no! He stayed on his old stopping grounds.  I guess that’s where he felt like a king because thinking back; he was the king during our high school run.  But what goes up must come down and way down it came to the pit of hell is where I’m sure he is sitting at this very moment.  Behind bars.  He is charged with sexual assault on three minors which supposedly took place during a school trip. 

Come on now? Are you kidding me?  The four year “love” of my life is a sex offender?  Hell no! Say it aint’ so?  OK…In MY MIND here is the scenario; an attractive, young teacher in a position of authority.  He is not only good looking but extremely outgoing (the Mr. Popularity type) with the girls.  The girls are probably swooning over him, such as me at that very same age.  I’m pretty certain they were teens with fantasies, such as me and I’m pretty sure he was going through that early mid life crisis thing.  I really shouldn’t’ compare this horrible event to myself but I’m morning the “perfect image” loss of my high school crush and I guess its human nature to want to take the side of the person you know or at least thought you knew. 

I didn’t really know him but I knew of him and I think (especially being a sensitive cancer) I have a natural intuition about human emotions.  In many cases I can pick up on how people are feeling.  It’s a strong sense that I think cancerians are blessed with.  Not saying that I have psychic intuitions because I am absolutely terrible at predicting outcomes and how people will and do react to a situation, but I can relate to how people feel because when human emotions fly it is usually a very familiar feeling.  Somehow, I think I might know how he was feeling.  For starters; empowered (being in a position of authority over a bunch of teens); flattered with the attention or maybe he still thought of himself as just one of the kids, being that he was still in his very own high school.  Whatever it was, we can sum it up to bad decisions.  People say sick!  Being that he was a teacher and taking advantage of his students.  I can’t get into this debate.  I will not defend his behavior.  But I know if I was 17 and had a crush on a teacher, regardless of his age, and somehow I had the opportunity to take advantage of him and him of me, damn right I would take it!  Now, with that being said, the teacher is supposed to know better and NEVER let that happen, but he did.  Maybe it was a moment or moments of weakness.  But we are not supposed to be weak.  Society says it, especially when it comes to this.   Who want’s to feel bad for their high school crush?  It’s a bummer.  It’s like looking into the future and seeing shit.  The point is my fantasy died, along with his reputation.