Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce Que C'est

Lucy walks in her sleep. Talks too. The other night she wandered into my room as I was brushing my teeth and I could tell she was sleep-walking. When I told her to go back to bed she shrugged nonchalantly, said, “OK – as long as there aren't any more people to stab,” and casually sauntered back to her room.

I thought, “Huh, that was disturbing,” and turned to tell someone about the utterly creeptastic thing Lucy had just said while gallivanting about in her sleep. I think I actually said out loud, “Holy crap, did you hear what she...” before it dawned on me there was no one there to tell. (For a split-second, though, I waited for a reply…just in case.)

Upon realizing I had no one with whom to share this wonderfully-creepy experience, I did not burst into tears (admit it—you thought that’s what I was going to say). But I did stop and give consideration to the fact that apparently I now talk to myself and fully expect a reply. Yep. I gave that some serious thought. And yes, I considered the very real possibility that I may be straight-up crazy. While I kicked around that somewhat-uncomfortable idea it occurred to me that for the majority of my children’s’ lives there has been no one there for me to tell when the kids have said or done something fantastic (or horrendous). No one to turn to and say, “Holy crap! Did you see that?” So maybe my talking to a non-existent life partner (and fully expecting a reply) is nothing more than wishful thinking and not necessarily a rapid descent into Crazyville…right?

I felt pitiful for a few minutes before it hit me: I do have someone to tell when my kids say or do something fantastic (or horrendous). I have you. (That’s right. Sit with that thought, my friends. Are you just a little scared right now?) My village. Virtual and actual. As life partners go, y’all pretty much rule.

So…Lucy is talking in her sleep about stabbing people. It was Pirates vs. Zombies week at camp last week, but still. This is me turning to you and saying, “Holy crap, did you hear that?” Quick. Someone hold me.

My daughter may be a psycho killer, but our little chat here has made me feel better already. I love my Village People. 

Perfectly Floppy Bacon's Grand Re-Opening: Oh How I've Missed You

Hello, blank computer screen. Oh how I've missed you. (And you too, PFB readers!) Here's what's been happening.

As you may have guessed, the cue-the-orchestra, slow-motion-running-into-each-other’s-arms, Lifetime-Television-for-Women Happy Ending to which I referred in my last post turned out to be an entirely different kind of movie. Oh sure, it was still Lifetime-Television-for-Women-worthy, just not with hearts, flowers and an earnest rock ballad. This particular movie was more of a tears, heartbreak and bad country song kind of movie. Not to worry—it’s nothing I can’t work with. I just needed a minute (or six months, as it were) to make some kind of shaky peace with it and to be able to say it loud without too much pain, shame or blame (or a lot of ugly crying). Hence the radio silence. Thank you for your patience.

So here we are, the kids and I. We've picked ourselves up, moved yet again (five times in ten years—probably not a record, but a crap-ton of moving nonetheless) and adjusted our expectations. Because that’s what we do. That’s what we all do, right?

We were presented with a wonderful opportunity to live in our friends’ investment property for eight years and we jumped at the chance. Rent-control until the kids are out of high school! It’s a game-changer for us. And to top it off, we even get to oversee a remodel and make it a place we will truly love living for those eight years. The location is perfect and the kids are enjoying the independence of being able to walk to the park, friends’ houses and plenty of places to eat and hang out. Provided no one reports me to Child Protective Services for letting my kids roam the neighborhood unattended like...well…kids on summer break, I may just start believing that we are the most fortunate family ever. Of course, having the most amazing friends ever helps immensely. We Heaglers are some kind of lucky. Truly.

I know it’s been a while since we've talked, so now that you’re all caught up(ish), I thought I’d let you in on a couple of things that are on my mind (in no particular order):

• I think we Heaglers need a dog. According to the Seattle Animal Shelter, Hayden thinks it would be cool to snuggle on the couch with me: Click here to check out Hayden! Thoughts?

 And speaking of snuggling on the couch… 

• Does anyone know if there is an online dating site that caters to gracefully-aging (okay, okay—maybe just “aging”), estrogen-deficient, single-mom types? Hypothetically speaking, of course. These are just things I wonder about.

And finally, it seems only right that I should end this grand-re-opening post with a classic, PFB over-share. So, in other news...

• It has recently become abundantly clear to me why nature did not intend for puberty and menopause to exist in the same house at the same time.

Discuss amongst yourselves and we'll talk more later. Now that Perfectly Floppy Bacon is back, we’ll have plenty of time to explore these riveting topics. Yay?