I was prepared to smack him myself until I realized that a good deal of what I was reading was supposed to be private. (Don't worry -- I clicked out of it and lost his password, so I'm not prying anymore. All I will say is, honey, he loves you so much. Which wasn't news to me, but -- he really does.)
I signed up for one of these things with the express intention of keeping in touch with you two. With all of the changes happening in our lives, it made sense to take advantage of it.
I have yet to see this picture you speak of. My boy's slacking on the job. Tell him that he can make it up to me by making dinner for all of us. Name the day and time, and I'll be there.
I'm glad you aren't completely horrified that I'm here. I very much would like to be a part of your lives, and if this helps, I'm thankful for it.
... He didn't even log out? And you didn't save and send me, you know, a record of what he's said? Wow, I need to borrow his new laptop. I'm kidding. He's... It's mutual. The thing you said. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me.
I feel vaguely both stalked and flattered.
He is. It's seriously the most amazing picture of a blob I've ever seen. I'm tempted to frame it and put it up over the fireplace, but that might be a bit much. Let's do dinner on Wednesday, I think. I'm going over to a friend's tomorrow night, and the end of my week is often filled with trying to catch up on the things I was too sick to do in the beginning of the week (which isn't to say I'm not sick by the end of the week, only that I have a hundred things to do that I absolutely can't put off anymore).
We both want you in our lives, Elaine. And as much as Sam may slack off or whine, he loves you. And I-- I'm probably the only woman on the planet who likes her mother-in-law.
And you to him. I can say that with authority, having known him since he too was a blob.
And you didn't feel stalked and/or flattered when I moved across the country? I jest. Truly.
I don't think framing is too much. Allow yourself to be excited. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Enjoy it! It's good for you. Take my word for it.
Wednesday would be lovely. I'll be there with bells on.
I know, sweetie. Really, I do. (I truly believe you are. One of the hidden blessings of my divorce was that it allowed mine to finally end her three-decade long quest to remember my name.)
You didn't so much move across the country so much as you just, well, stayed. It's different. Sort of.
I'm not letting my family find out I'm pregnant by noticing a framed ultrasound photo on my mantle. Or anyone else, for that matter. It's-- I feel a certain degree of posessiveness. It's... This is ours, and I'm not ready to give that up yet.
We'll see you then, then. I'm looking forward to it.
(The only time I ever heard my mother raise her voice, was after one Christmas with my grandparents-- My father's parents. I don't even remember what the fight was about, only the feeling of shock and terror.)
Comments 4
I was prepared to smack him myself until I realized that a good deal of what I was reading was supposed to be private. (Don't worry -- I clicked out of it and lost his password, so I'm not prying anymore. All I will say is, honey, he loves you so much. Which wasn't news to me, but -- he really does.)
I signed up for one of these things with the express intention of keeping in touch with you two. With all of the changes happening in our lives, it made sense to take advantage of it.
I have yet to see this picture you speak of. My boy's slacking on the job. Tell him that he can make it up to me by making dinner for all of us. Name the day and time, and I'll be there.
I'm glad you aren't completely horrified that I'm here. I very much would like to be a part of your lives, and if this helps, I'm thankful for it.
Reply
I feel vaguely both stalked and flattered.
He is. It's seriously the most amazing picture of a blob I've ever seen. I'm tempted to frame it and put it up over the fireplace, but that might be a bit much. Let's do dinner on Wednesday, I think. I'm going over to a friend's tomorrow night, and the end of my week is often filled with trying to catch up on the things I was too sick to do in the beginning of the week (which isn't to say I'm not sick by the end of the week, only that I have a hundred things to do that I absolutely can't put off anymore).
We both want you in our lives, Elaine. And as much as Sam may slack off or whine, he loves you. And I-- I'm probably the only woman on the planet who likes her mother-in-law.
Reply
And you didn't feel stalked and/or flattered when I moved across the country? I jest. Truly.
I don't think framing is too much. Allow yourself to be excited. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Enjoy it! It's good for you. Take my word for it.
Wednesday would be lovely. I'll be there with bells on.
I know, sweetie. Really, I do. (I truly believe you are. One of the hidden blessings of my divorce was that it allowed mine to finally end her three-decade long quest to remember my name.)
Reply
I'm not letting my family find out I'm pregnant by noticing a framed ultrasound photo on my mantle. Or anyone else, for that matter. It's-- I feel a certain degree of posessiveness. It's... This is ours, and I'm not ready to give that up yet.
We'll see you then, then. I'm looking forward to it.
(The only time I ever heard my mother raise her voice, was after one Christmas with my grandparents-- My father's parents. I don't even remember what the fight was about, only the feeling of shock and terror.)
Reply
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