You know you are a horrible girlfriend, and undeserving of all that this amazing man does for you when it takes you five days and even then HE has to point it out to you on Friday – that he fixed the eve trough that was dangling off the garage on Monday afternoon.

Sigh.

Apologies were made. Cookies shall be baked.

Perhaps it’s because the sun is shining outside but it’s still too cold to actually do anything out there. Perhaps it’s because after letting go of a student yesterday, I’m feeling the need to exert control over SOMEthing. Perhaps it’s just Spring Fever. Whatever the cause, I woke early this morning itching to do something. Itching to move things. Itching to change things.

I lay in bed thinking about moving this piece of furniture and that piece of furniture. I thought about the mirror that never got hung once we moved in. I thought about the plants I’d like to hang in a couple of windows and the hooks I would need in the ceiling to do so. And while I itched to do these things, I dreaded them in the same breath – I can drill in a pinch, but I’m so afraid of doing it wrong and leaving a gaping hole in the wall. I would need help moving some of the furniture around and thought maybe I could get Flash’s help when he wakes around 3pm.

But then I remembered…and so I sent a text. “Would you maybe help me hang a mirror later and put a couple plant hooks in the ceiling?”

And the reply that delights my soul – “Absolutely!”

And even beyond that, he says, “And I want to fix that eve trough that’s hanging off the garage.”

Where has he been all my life?

Holds me when I just need holding.

Listens when I just need to talk.

Laughs when I don’t want to cry.

Winks when I need to laugh.

Smiles when the world seems to be caving in.

Loves when I feel so unloveable.

Brings me flowers just because.

Is silent when I can’t take any more.

Is perfect for me.

I don’t blog about school. While I am entertained every single day by my nine-year olds, I just think it’s an off-limits topic to post on a blog.

But today I ache. Today I mourn. Today I’m finding it difficult to cope.

I have a boy in my class who has the roughest of lives – the ones you read about and shake your head and wonder how children in these situations survive at all. He was held back in second grade, and so despite his low academic abilities, he will keep being promoted on – he will keep being propelled forward, forever lost, and losing ground.

He is a tough child. Rough around all the edges, he has walls around him for very good reason. And yet, he is a softie. Show him your boundaries, hold him accountable and he will not only respect you but come to admire you. Show him you care and he will hold tight to you forever.

And oh how I care.

But tomorrow he will leave me. Tomorrow, he will change custody. From a mother who never should have been given him in the first place, to a father that has hardly been involved. And with the change comes a change in schools. Away from me.

And so I ache. And so I cry. And so I get angry that he is leaving.

I worry. I worry that he will become a behavior problem in his next school – full of walls, with the attitude to push everyone away, will he let another teacher help him get where he needs to be? I worry.

I worry that he will never gain ground on all that he’s lost. I worry that he will get to a point where giving up is easier than fighting for knowledge. Where following in mom’s footsteps is the only path he knows. The path to drugs and to jail.

I worry.

I don’t know how to face tomorrow. I don’t know how to say goodbye to this child. I have packed a bag full of flashcards and school supplies and every little thing I think that might help him for today. But I won’t be there tomorrow.

And so I pray.

For one little boy and his messed up life. For parents that aren’t sure how to do just that. And for a teacher that doesn’t know just how to let go.

Yesterday, WG braved the first Family Test. He hung out with my sister and Bear at a local home and garden show. We wandered through all the vendors, WG and I stopping at nearly every booth to ask a million questions for our million home-repair projects we both would love to do to our homes if we could just find that money tree. Jules and Bear wandered through eyeing these amazing outdoor grill -pagoda things. They have apparently FOUND the ellusive money tree.

In any case, we capped off the day with some amazing Chicago-style pizza. I am amazed at WG’s charm – he must have done something right as he got my sister to PLAY CARDS. I haven’t seen my sister play cards since I was 12!! (Thanks, Jules!)

Jules says he passes the sister test. WG says he wasn’t scared away by my family, so I guess I can breathe a sigh of relief that neither scared the other away!

Now, let’s just see if I can manage to not scare him away, either!

Dear Flash’s Girlfriend:

I remember arguing about the song, years ago with a friend. It struck such a disonant chord with me and he was surprised by my reaction.

I like blue eyes, hers are green
Not like the woman of my dreams
And her hair’s not quite as long as I had planned

Maybe it’s because I’ve never been quite enough for the man in my life. I was far from the right “type” for my husband, and even since, some other woman has always won over me. I know I’ll never be “perfect” for anyone, but I always wanted to be “perfectly suited” somehow – to truly be the thing someone has dreamt of. So this song has always bothered me.

Five foot three isn’t tall
She’s not the girl I pictured at all
In those paint by number fantasies I’ve had

My argument, that day with my friend, was that if I were the woman this song was written about, I would always be insecure- I would always think that when a woman who DID fit his dreams came along, he would leave. Ahh, Fear of Abandonment, how you rear your ugly head in my life! My friend was truly appalled. He tried, whole-heartedly to explain, to make me see the point of the song –

So it took me by complete surprise
When my heart got lost in those deep green eyes
She’s not at all what I was looking for
She’s more

At the time, I just shook my head and we agreed to disagree on this one. I’ve heard the song many times since and I’ve turned the station. I don’t want to hear it. It rubs me very much the wrong way.

But this morning, listening to the rain fall outside my window, I had to laugh at myself.

He’s not much taller than I am at all. In heels I have him beat.
He doesn’t have a goatee.
He is always checking to make sure I am okay, that he hasn’t offended me in any way.
It isn’t his shoulders or his teeth that I find particularly sexy (what?! teeth can too be sexy!)
His grammar can make me shudder.
He’s self-conscious, self-depricating (I know, Pot, meet Kettle.)
He is nice, quite nearly to a fault.

All things that don’t fit my “paint by number fantasies.” And yet, he’s so much more. He isn’t at all what I had pictured in my mind, but my heart recognizes how skewed that mental picture was. I told him last night how genuine he seems to me to be. He is real. He isn’t perfect, doesn’t pretend to be and doesn’t expect me to be.

No, it wasn’t at first sight
But the moment I looked twice
I saw the woman I was born to love
Her laughter fills my soul
And when I hold her I don’t wanna let go
When it comes to her I can’t get enough

He might not match what I thought my “type” of man was exactly, but he far exceeds my wildest dreams.

More than I dreamed of
More than any man deserves
I couldn’t ask for more
Than a love like hers

I have seen him every single day since our second date. Which is more than two weeks now. There is nothing glamorous about dating a single mom and yet he’s more than content to hang out with us each evening, just talking about our days over dinner together. He has included Flash in his planning, consideration and actions since the start – a trait rare in someone without children of his own. He’s happy just staying in and watching a movie, but he’ll take me out to dinner, or make plans to go dancing as well.

He has stepped gingerly around my need for independence, while maintaining his need to help and provide. (He snowblowed my driveway and then sheepishly came into my kitchen waiting to be scolded.)

He is quiet and reserved, funny and very kind. He is open and vulnerable with me, withholding no secrets, but letting go of past remorse as well. We’ve been down similar roads – had our share of the not-so-greats and are both cautious and nervous about what we have found together.

He is careful with me, and I with him.

We talk about everything and nothing, but not about the road ahead. Tomorrow brings what tomorrow brings. Making plans for the weekend is as far as we will discuss. There is some feeling, however unspoken, that this is different. There is a hope, there is a guarded optimism, there is something there that hasn’t been. If brought to a vulnerable moment, however unintentionally, he will simply say, “I’m just so glad I went to the pub that night.” Me too. He is real and genuine and normal. His life is as simple and down-to-earth as mine. His goals and dreams are realistic and honorable.

And so I will see him again. For dinner, here tomorrow. He will come in the back door and will help where I will let him and will sit and listen when I won’t. He will laugh about the drama of our days and laugh at Flash and his antics. He will pray with us over dinner and will be the first to clear dishes when it is done. He will sit with me in his arms for an hour or so afterwards, enjoing the quiet, enjoying Flash, feeling at peace.

He will leave before either of us want him to, but he works so early it is greedy to keep him late. He will text me when he is home safely, just a few miles up the road, and again a few minutes later to wish me goodnight.

If I think too hard about it all, I am terrified. But laying back against his shoulder on the couch after dinner, laughing at Flash and Eli and my crazy little family, I feel nothing but peace.

He brings me nothing but peace.