Misuderstanding

So, after my previous post, my husband is all "What do you mean your going to quit wearing sundresses- don't get rid of that purple one. And why do you want to grow up? And you don't want kids anytime soon do you? And I like you in headbands. What's gotten into you woman?!"

So, I just want to say that yes, I am still fulling embracing my youth and I'm not going to start wearing control-top underwear anytime soon. I am fine with living a cramped life in a STUDIO apartment in NYC. I am fine with eating oatmeal for dinner and wearing a bikini and I'm still considering tattoos. Just this last Sunday I was a little too short and too tight at church- God forgive me! Well, not really too short, but too tight. And I was singing on the Praise Team. "You look good, maybe a little too good," my Worship Director told me. I took her advice and wore my light sweater. (Thank God for her discernment and saving my butt from looking like a fool up there singing about God's goodness and mercy all the while shaking what my momma gave me.)

I'll be honest, it's hard to avoid the young, hip, short tight clothes. This is the best my body has looked in my entire life. And for that I am proud.... but sometimes I get caught up in the appearance thing....and for that I am a little embarrassed. I want to buy the shorter and the tighter because I never got to when I was 21.

People always, always assume that I am younger than I really am. And for a long time it bothered me. I took it as a complete insult. Am I that insecure, immature, or irresponsible? (Sorry couldn't avoid the opportunity for alliteration.) Or is it just my chubby cheeks? Most recently, "Did you move to NYC to go to college?" WHAT? No, as a matter of fact I didn't! But, I will say most people I meet in the city look amazingly beautiful for their age. Young even. I contribute it to the lack of sunbathing and the lack of children induced stress!

Appearance aside, I just want to project a mature Stefani. I feel mature. Not boring or old or predictable just confident. I don't need a $350 handbag to fit into the crowd. I don't need the trendy shoe of the season to be accepted. And I sure as heck don't feel comfortable shopping at Strawberry, H&M or Forever 21. Are you kidding me? When I was 21 I was a wreck!

I hadn't even stepped into these stores until recently- with a gal pal of 21 years old. She can wear sparkly pink leggings and turquoise shirt dresses that barely cover her tush. I don't want to. I don't want to wear a t-shirt that says, "Little Miss. Sunshine" or "I want my MTV." The oversized peace-sign earrings and seashell necklaces- gotta go. But I am keeping my red velvet heels, my pink coach purse, and my spaghetti-strap dress I bought at Anthropologie. (I LOVE this store!!)

Last year my sisters (22 and 25 at the time) and I went out late one night in NYC. I think I was the oldest girl in the entire club. After playing Michael Jackson, Jay-Z, and the Beastie Boys the deejay put on something my 28-year-old body could not find the beat to. I became a wall-flower. I had a great night with my sisters but I quickly realized how I didn't fit into this scene and I was completely fine with that.

There is a bar in our neighborhood that makes Chris and me feel the same way. A co-worker of Chris' is a partial owner and even with the incentive of free drinks, I just really don't want to spend time in a loud, crowded bar with complete strangers. We are the oldest people there (and the only married.) I do this melancholy thing where I flaunt my ring and look totally bored. Beer pong, Yankees baseball and slimy chicken wings are not my thing. Nor are they Chris'. I've thrown in the towel on all this. I prefer the frozen yogurt place right next door to the bar- a vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles!

Maybe it's getting comfortable with myself as much as it is growing up. Some things I value, others I don't. I will pay $45 for a Broadway show, but not $15 for a Mets game. I will spend $100 for a pre-fix dinner during restaurant week, but think $12 is too much for a movie.

Home is...

As of today, Chris has been gone for one month. That is a long time for us to be apart. Even considering my month-long, unexpected trip to Texas during February and March. This feels much longer. I know this is because I am the one left at home. I shouldn't say left, really. I don't want to be on the back of a bike, sleeping in a tent, wearing the same three pairs of pants for an entire month. That does not sound like fun at all. And I know Chris doesn't consider it fun, but an Adventure. Yes, that is what he is seeking. Adventure. Bring on the rains, the 40 degree nights, the flat tires and sunburns. Ah, my husband, the thrill seeker. Why do you think we dated for more than TEN years before we got married? We thrive on drama. Yes, yes we do.

All of that to say, he has had his share of Sturgis and the mayhem that abounds there. Last night he told me within a week to ten days he'll be back! So, as much as I want him to see whatever states are between South Dakota and here, I can't wait to see his hairy face again. (Oh, yeah, the "adventure" also includes limited shaving and bathing!)

This is the email I received from him yesterday explaining his leaving the bike rally:

"I mean, if you're a die-hard Aerosmith fan, $120 is not a bad price for a concert and you get to camp for free.

But I'm not.

And I'm not even a HUGE motorcycle fan, just a Big Fan and Enjoyerer.

I'm more of a traveling fan. Seeing the country. State by state.

I think that's why I'm ready to move on.

I AM a huge fan of boobs; but, I like yours the best.

They're like home for me. Home is wherever my wife's boobs are."

For the sheltered and clueless who don't know what Sturgis is: naked women, drinking and lots of rowdiness are on the agenda all day everyday.
Ah, my husband. Romantic isn't he.

(I tastefully stuck with a cartoon image here. This is a family friendly blog. Well, I try to keep it at least PG-13. And, I will not be posting any of Chris's pictures... He is a red blooded man and if women are gonna flash, then he's gonna look. I mean heck, I'd look.)

Keeping me Awake

I don't have a problem sleeping or getting to sleep. Just pop in The Godfather, some Adam Sandler movie or any romantic comedy- I will be out in less than thirty minutes guaranteed. Most every night I sleep well, curled up like a cat in the fetal position. Some nights I don't move at all- slumbering long and heavy.

Saturday night after my long, enjoyable day that ended with two glasses of red wine, I was distraught when I woke up abruptly at 2:45am. I was wide awake. My best friend in Texas had texted me earlier in the evening and said that her water had broke and she was headed to the hospital. That was at 6:00pm. After laying there consumed with thoughts of her, I texted her a single line saying that I was awake and thinking about her and her unborn baby. To my surprise she responded. No baby yet.

We wrote back and forth for awhile then I told her I better turn in and that I loved her dearly. (I had to be at church at 8:00am, which means I had to wake up at 6:30am, which I don't even do during the work week.) She is embarking on something totally selfless and brave and one of the greatest joys ever. Thinking about her, I laid in bed, wide awake and all alone until 4:50am.

I thought. I thought and prayed and wrote an entire chapter of a book in my head. I thought about how I am really a grown up now. I mean, as soon as I quit getting acne I started worrying about spider veins. I make sure all my face lotions and skin serums have SPF now, so I can avoid a wrinkly neck. I will be thirty in six months. I think I should get rid of my oversized, plastic beaded necklaces and my halter top from H&M. I mean really, Stefani? And that brown sundress with the pink stitching that I can't wear a bra with- I think I need to get rid of it too. Not that I want to appear matronly, or avoid baring my shoulders, I just think that to be treated maturely, then my appearance needs to stay, "I am a beautiful, strong, educated, confident woman" not "Hey, I partied too hard last night and can't find my undergarments."

I passed a book display at Barnes and Noble the other day and the girl on the cover of "What to Expect When Your Expecting" looked much younger than me. Is this what getting older feels like. Becoming an adult? When your closest friends are buying homes and having babies and making partner? I don't really want any of that right now which is why New York makes me feel normal. It accepts the single and the childless and the ones who want to play, experience, and wander like my husband and I do.

So, while our dearest friends became the parents of baby Tessa, my husband and I are spending time apart this summer. It isn't to get away, or avoid one another but to discover. It was bittersweet when I wished him well on July 5th and he headed toward the Pacific Ocean on motorcylce with nothing more than a backpack and a tent. He's on his pilgrimage. A "once in a lifetime opportunity." And while I know this to be true, I miss him with everything that is within me. I've been lonely. He's been really lonely. But it is good. He is seeing and listening and writing. And I am on a journey of my very own, even though I haven't left NYC at all this summer. There are places I have to go that he can not go with me.

So, while there is not a baby in our near future, I do feel older. I feel like I need to get my moles examined, not carry so much crap in my oversized handbag, and quit wearing headbands.