My Lucky (Crafty) Husband

Most days you will find me in my sweats. I roll out of bed in the morning in gym shorts and a t-shirt. I get the kids dressed and fed, and go about my daily tasks. This has been my routine for a long time for two reasons.
1. After pregnancies, the only clothes I can fit into are my gym shorts and sweats...for who knows how long.
2. Typically my only time to workout  is during the kids' nap in the middle of the day, and I just don't see the point in showering and getting all dolled up before a workout.

Plus, a small part of me feels like doing all of that work is a colossal waste of time when I could be doing something productive with my children or something otherwise productive leaving me more time to spend with my children. At least that's what the whispers in my head tell me.

The problem with "most days" is that they leave me feeling disheveled, unkempt, and lazy, no matter how productive my day has been. So every now and then, when provided with the time, I run with it. I'll get a good shower, not just the kind where I wash so quickly that I can't even remember if I did or not, and end up washing again. I'll put on real clothes, do something other than a messy pony tail with my hair, and maybe even dab on a little make-up...just to run some errands.

I do this so rarely, that Elijah will ask, "Mommy, are we going to church?" when he sees me step out of the bathroom in jeans and a blouse, and Jelani will ask me if I'm looking for a boyfriend, and make a snide remark about not forgetting to wear my rings.

Today, I was feeling under the weather, and ever since high school, I have found myself to be more productive, as though I can fake being healthy, if I ditch the sweats and act a little glamorous. "Fake it 'til ya make it," right? I had some errands to run this afternoon, and Jelani had a short day. When he got home, I took a nice long shower, did a little something with my hair and face, and slapped on a pair of jeans I haven't worn in 5 years. I was greeted by, "Mommy, are we going to church?" and "Why are you so dolled up? Better put those rings on!" It's a shame when they treat my jeans and blouse like a rarely worn ball gown.

And I was off on a glamorous, errand running journey. I stopped by Toys 'R Us, coupon in hand, for an early Christmas purchase that was on sale. I am such a couponing freak! Then I had to swing by the post office to mail my mother the sweater she left here the last time she visited. Then, on my way out of the post office, something happened...something that has happened to me more in the last four months than ever happened to me between high school and college combined. I was...hit on?

No, seriously. I was hit on.

This makes number 3 since I've dropped 30 lbs, and I'm still not the size I was in college. Are older men just bolder and braver? Do they figure they have nothing to lose? I have to give guy #3 props though. It was the sweetest, and most respectful of the three hit ons. Guy #1 openly admitted to me, after only 30 seconds, that he was only in town for a week on business "lonely in my hotel room." Creeper. Guy number two shamelessly flirted with me while fawning over the love of his life (his cat) in the Pet Smart line, and again, admitted to me that he was only in town for another two nights before heading off to study abroad in England. What do I look like, exactly? I am a dog person for goodness sake.

With both of the first two, I had to quickly bring up the fact that I am married with children. Guy number three though; he was different. We made eye contact as I was leaving the post office and he was arriving. We exchanged polite hellos and how are yous, as I usually do with people I make eye contact with in passing. He was all smiles and unusually friendly, but it was refreshing. I kept walking, but he stopped me with, "I'm sorry, but you are really beautiful." As I turned around to thank him, and find a way to tell him I only have eyes for one, he put his hand out to introduce himself, gave me his name, and then immediately said, "Please, tell me you're not married." If you know me, you know how embarrassing this all was, so I laughed and told him that I am, in fact happily married, he continued a light but polite conversation about how he'd just moved to Buffalo from Palm Springs. I said, "Well, welcome to Buffalo," with a smile. He told me my husband was one lucky man...about 3 times, and as I walked away he yelled, "You make sure to tell him how lucky he is!" I laughed, but told him I certainly would (and I certainly did).

"Luck has nothing to do with it," he responded. "I'm just crafty."  He somehow believes that he fooled me into marrying him. "Was he white or black?" Jelani then asked me.
"Black. They're all black," I said.
He smiled a knowing smile. This matters for reasons I don't fully understand, but my theory is that Jelani likes hearing that other black men appreciate me. Maybe it makes him feel less crazy for marrying the whitest chick he knows.

And maybe, if this keeps up, he'll complain a little bit less about my sloppy pony tail and my comfortable clothing of choice. ;-)