Forgive Me?

I'm concerned because it's a billing cycle and my assistant isn't feeling well enough to do the work needed.  By work needed, I mean sending me the list of billable hours.

Also, honestly, I miss my boy.  I should think that by now I'd be over it, but I'm not.  I don't want to go there; he certainly doesn't want to come here, but I'm tired every morning of waking up, rolling over, and finding that I'm in bed alone again.

So tomorrow I will do everything in my power to distract myself:  work for clients, bill clients, file paperwork, harass Momma, and then come home and take a deep breath.

PS - Momma and Dad's anniversary is Thursday.  Forty-nine years.  Wow.

Photos

I'm currently looking through slideshows of the most recent pictures of the boy's kid.  I know I've not mentioned the kid before, because of privacy concerns and my ongoing desire to tread lightly around this subject.

I don't want to meet the boy's son until the boy and I have something permanent planned, but I love seeing his son grow up and become a child.  Not an infant, not a toddler, but an actual child.

Spooky.

As he gets older, he looks more and more like the boy.  I can see a whole lot of ladies with broken hearts in the future, and therefore I hope the kid has the same values as the boy.  OK, OK, not all of them, but the fundamental ones I do wish for him.

So, It's Monday

...and I owe you a post, so in between writing emails to opposing counsel and researching new laptops, let me tell you about my day.

Aside:  When I went shopping with pseudo-niece last week, I opened the doors for her to go in first.  This is important only because it meant that the shopkeepers saw a teenaged girl enter their stores, and the disappointment on their faces were clearly visible.  Until I walked in, looking to the world like her mother.

Aside aside:  Sweet holy evil!  I am legitimately old enough to be her mother.  This seriously skeeves me out.

Back to the initial aside:  The relief on the shopkeepers' faces was amazing to watch when I entered the stores.  Like, "Here's the money lady!"  I guess I never noticed when I was a teenager that the clerks were never happy to see me alone or with friends.

Anyhoo:  I'm thinking about what opposing counsel's going to say to my client's requests.  I'm thinking about how fun it will be to have a new laptop, and what a royal pain it will be to transfer data from TWO machines to the new one.  I'm thinking that maybe Momma will buy me an external hard drive to make this easier and faster.  I'm thinking about a wireless router so I can be online while I watch TV.

I'm thinking I need to take a shower and take the garbage out.  Yes, another day in the life of a high-powered attorney.

Shopping With Girls

Today I went out with the boy's niece.  She's sixteen, sweet, more innocent than I was at her age, and very, very funny.  She feels a need to explain herself, which is an instinct I remember from when I was her age.  (And that need hasn't ended for me, clearly.  Hush.)

We wandered around an open-air mall in this horrific heat and humidity, and explored all the stores.  We went to the standards, you know, Old Navy and J. Crew, and some speciality stores.  We went to a bookstore and explained why we love the books we love.

Aside - I love that she reads.  I follow my Momma's truth there, where I believe that it doesn't matter what you read, so long as you read.

I'm afraid, however, of attaching too much to her.  Why would I worry such?  Because the boy and I are just now working on the ins and outs of our relationship, and the closer we get to actually (finally!) creating a life together, the more he backs toward and against where we are.

Honestly?  I do too.  Working on divorce cases will do that to a person (and especially this person).

I don't want this fabulous girl to lose a friend.  I don't know quite yet how to be a friend to a teenager.

But in the meantime, is it bad that I enjoy her company, and let's be honest, that little bit of adoration?

Greedy

I miss the boy and I'm not getting the attention I feel I deserve.  Mind you, I feel that I deserve it, not that it's something I should have.  He's certainly free to get what he wants.

I like it better when he's here - when I can read him.

Sweet Christmas, ain't I something? 

Ladies?

Airport

So, my one-day reprieve is over.  I took the boy to his parents' house, and he seemed surprised that I didn't come in.  Well, honey, I had a meeting at noon, plus I've not showered, am wearing no makeup, and the outfit I have on is yesterday's.  Plus, there's a very active four-year-old boy in there.  So thanks, as much I want to be around you FOREVER AND EVER, I will not be joining you in your folks' house.

In an hour I'm leaving to go to the airport to say goodbye to the boy.  I absolutely do not want to do this.  This is because once I see him leave, he's gone, and I won't see him again for months.  I don't want him to go.  He doesn't want to go.  We've had such a good time together.  We ate out a lot.  We stayed in a lot and watched TV.

He is now addicted to Teen Mom.  See what I do?

So we drank and ate and laughed and talked and laughed and talked and laughed and talked.  And once he's gone, how will I fill the time?  I've gotten used to seeing him three or four times a week.  I've gotten him used to being, at the furthest, four-and-a-half miles from me.

I better go take a shower.

I don't think my mascara's waterproof.

A One-Day Reprieve

The boy was scheduled to leave today, but in the time-honored tradition of me missing my flight to DC in June because I apparently can't read an itinerary, he missed his flight.

Darn.

Although it costs a fortune to change a ticket, I'm so glad to get him for one more night.  The tears I cried this morning have dried and hopefully I'll feel a little stronger tomorrow so I don't have to go through them again.