My, my, so much to report on, so little time. My child is asleep so I steal a few to write.
I am very tired. The last week or so, my little fella has been having a hard time. He ran a slight fever from Monday through Wednesday. It came and went, and never got very hot. Then he had a case of the shits, that’s still sort of going on.
The culprit? Two eye teeth are putting in an appearance. Poor little fella, we’ve had nighttime screaming fits from pain and discomfort, and the shits brought on a case of severe nappy rash.
He’s been so uncomfortable, and of course so have I. I’ve been in tears over his own pain, so there you go.
So I am exhausted. To add to all this teething pains, the yearly Sahara Dust cloud that was hanging over Bim the last week or so, produced a nasty reaction from my sinuses., so in addition to being tired, my sinuses were clobbered.
Despite all of this, Dayo still went to daycare every day last week, and played hard and had a ball. Child, he plays hard no matter what. Dayo doesn’t seem to have a ‘cool out’ mode. He’s either going, protesting sleep or sleeping.
Taking him to daycare in the mornings, has also brought a little flirtation into play. With whom? Indeed. I know little, but it doesn’t stop the flirt from getting on.
I am loving work. Corporate adventures have taken me into town on a few occasions, and this has also brought on some overwhelming male attention. So much so, last week I had a man step right up to me, and ask me point blank if I wanted a man. He was very attractive, but waaaay too much gold. I hate, hate, hate jewelry on a man, and he was in OVER DO zone.
I find this interesting though. Personally, I need to look at me when I come up against this.
There has to be some quality I possess that some men find irresistible, even when I am in my current state of voluptuous matronly roundness. I may have lost 22 pounds when Dayo was born, but I damn near put it all back on coping with stress in the last eight months. I also do not feel sexy in the least. Or should I say, I didn’t and haven’t. Until now.
I think too, the fall out from CFWanker (Yes I fucking said it. He’s a WANKER!) was severe. I’m still dealing with that of course. CFWanker’s betrayal of myself and his son, still kind of colours everything. It’s hard to just forget it, because I look at my son everyday and who his father is, what his father has failed to do for us both and the very specific abuse I suffered at his hands is something I have no choice but to struggle with. As much as I loathe the man, I regret nothing, because I have Dayo. Yet, I still loathe the, uhhh (sarcastic) ‘man’.
The emotional dramas, melodramas and histrionics that living in the same house with my mother and brother produced also killed the motor for me in regards of sexual desire or feeling. Add to that my consumate disgust with the penis sizes that I encountered and the ‘don’t know what the fuck they’re doing’ I experienced with EVERY single man I dated in the UK including CFWanker, and the decidedly NOT small penis size of YMK and the memories of the best sex I’ve had to date, did a lot to kill my inspiration further.
Let’s not forgot the 10 months of pregnancy with vomiting and extreme peeing, bladder agonies, childbirth and sutures, you know, it just don’t make a sister feel sexy or up for any kind of sexiness.
Recently, parenting and work have just taken all the energy I have, and with my mind far away on these two activities, I haven’t had time to notice if some kind of ‘fuck me’ pheremone has begun to make it’s way into the atmosphere from my body. Maybe it has, because of late, I’ve been getting ‘attention’. Even being mismatched, unpressed and hair wrapped in cloth or under a beret and on my way to and from daycare in the mornings, the brother’s are saying hello.
I have to take that back, because men were making comments even when I was big bellied and walking like duck in August. So I guess it’s just me then.
: sigh : I’m not up for any emotional ‘I love you’ crap. CFWanker has kind of burnt all of that right out of me. It will take a really special man to undo some of that hurt, and I am still healing from it.
That doesn’t mean though I mightn’t be up for some fun, oui?
Of course there is one I like. I can look at him and see he is young, but I’m afraid to find out just how young. I have a feeling the gap is even greater than that between me and YMK. He’s the flirtation in the morning taking Dayo to daycare, and occasionally at other times, and during other movements.
He waits outside the converted shipping container that’s the only shop for miles, and is owned by a wicked old shit who only opens said ‘shop’ from 6pm to 11.30pm every night. He — my flirtation — waits there every morning for a ride to work.
He’s there when I take Dayo down to school, and he’s there when I walk back. He’s one of the local fellas from this neighborhood, but young enough or moved out here recently enough that I do not know him from my generation of kids who grew up out here.
All I know is his name, and that everyday I see him, my desire to see him naked gets just that much greater.
Today is Monday (all day, yes I know) and because of the bad diaper rash and the shits and the general discomfort, I’m keeping Dayo home until he feels better.
I wonder if my young friend, noticed that I didn’t come out. If Dayo doesn’t go to daycare tomorrow, will he notice that I didn’t pass two days straight?
Friday, for the first time in the weeks since we first started our little flirting thing, he asked me, “So how are things with you, differently?” He’s trying to initiate conversation, he’s so cute. Not cute, like in looks. He’s got his own thing happening. Nah, he’s cute as in sweet.
Differently though, Big Mami may be coming to the end of an 18 month drought. May it make up for the last three years of no, mediocre and just plain BAD sex. May it do much to heal my spirit and soul from the abuse of CFWanker.
Differently for real.