“Oh, you f*cking dirty little slut.... mhmm, yeah.... oh my god, yeah. I know you want me.”

The tv was off, light jazz playing on the speaker. Fluorescent lights drowning me in bad blue saturation. This was not romantic. He talked where he wanted to be, what he wanted to do, everything he knew. He talked a lot. This was not sweet.

I could tell by his taste he was drunk. One quick kiss and then he kept that up for the rest of the night. Or just long enough for me to get myself the hell out of there. Boy, was this a story to tell. Another terrible date in the books.

Don’t get me wrong, there were other various factors that I felt we would not meld well—like how he did not meet me at the door but sent a text message. Or how he talked about how much he made annually and where I would be when we got married. Or how he knew so much more about the things I might have known—like parenting (which is hard to do if you’re not a parent to my children). Or the simple fact that he could not respect me and what I wanted but pushed and pushed, and ultimately pushed me right out of the door.

And don’t get me wrong, I am willing to give you a chance (…or seven, if you look at my track record) but I’m tired of other people’s bullshit. And the saying goes, “when you know, you know.”

“but people are oceans, she shrugged, you cannot know them by their surface.”
-- Beau Taplin

Since being online and trying to do this “dating” thing, I’ve had a lot of trouble sticking the landing—it’s like I’m floating along the ocean of the inter web and getting ridiculously sea sick. I find myself older and looking for something to work for my life: an island to land on, a something I want to dedicate my time and energy in, without losing it. I want someone that wants the same things as me.

2 AM and I didn’t want to close my eyes, because then I would be afraid to never see you again.

The doorbell rang. 

My very first date away from the five years I’ve known and I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t know what to wear. I didn’t know what to expect or what I was getting myself into. After nearly a month of trying to coordinate our schedules and distribute our time— a month of shameless selfies & goofy gifs and light hearted talk, he was driving down to meet me for dinner and drinks. My heart fluttered as the bell rang. I’m not one to be nervous... but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t. 

He met me at my door. Took my hand as he opened his passenger car door to guide me in. We enjoyed a hot & humid summer night by the waterfront for dinner and drinks. The bar was quiet; the waitress was sweet and attentive. The lighting was warm and he was genuine and sweet. He told me his stories. How much he loved his family and friends. We had so much in common. We laughed. After putting up a fight, and putting down my card, he paid the bill.

A touch on the shoulder. A squeeze of the thigh. Supple, sweet and tender kisses…Of course, I’d find myself in this perfect situation. What a story. What an amazing date with a perfect man.

That was the problem. He was put on a pedestal. It’s hard to walk next to someone when you’re reeling in this idea of a perfect, hard-working, handsome and charismatic man when you’re learning to stand on your own two feet. It’s hard to invest when the timing isn’t right or when you're caught in the past, present and the future.

​Sometimes, it just doesn’t work out for you because the stars won’t allow it to--maybe because there is something else in your plan.

Dating is now-a-days is just plain hard.

I want to be courted the old fashioned way. The less crowded, busy and instantly gratified way. I want to fall in love with the little everyday things. I want to fight and not have to worry that you’ll find someone else to fill my position as fast as a swipe to the left or to the right. I want to trust you are only looking for my attention. I want to trust that I have yours. I want to not worry about having that stupid “exclusivity” talk. I want to fall utterly in love and not have to compete with another person you could or could not be meeting up with or face-timing or sending the same selfies to. I want to be able to talk to you and to communicate with honesty and respect. I want it to work for me. I don’t want to be some shadow. I don’t want to be filler. I want to love and I want to be loved.

From the crazy dating apps, like Tinder, which is now just a hook-up app; to Bumble, which is just awkward because you just never know what to say & because I’m just the epitome of awkward sometimes; to the ghosting. Also, there are a lot of fish, pictures of dogs & puppies, and so many army or uniform pictures. It’s all so hard.

ghost·ing
/ˈɡōstiNG/
noun
1. the appearance of a ghost or secondary image on a television or other display screen.
2. the practice of ending a personal relationship with someone by suddenly and without explanation withdrawing from all communication.
"I thought ghosting was a horrible dating habit reserved for casual flings"
 
Now, I will be the first to admit, I’ve done a lot of “ghosting.” I’ve always found it so difficult to simply say what I do not want or that I am just not interested. I never think it is polite to just communicate it as simply as it could be said, and if you know me, you’d know that I hate hurting people’s feelings.

There is something to be said about the complexity of this “ghosting” thing. How someone can go from talking to you everyday to nothing. You get nothing.

And maybe it was because they just knew. Because “when you know, you know.”

Yours, xo, p. 

And all the days mix together on the canvas of my life. A blur like the taste of whiskey on my breath. Stains and drops all over my clothing. Reminding me of all I loved. The pictures play back in all the crevices of my brain—reminding me not to do it again. It floods in my blood stream, coursing through my body, calling me to something I’ve known. I tell myself it’s different this time. I drink another drink. I smoke a little smoke. I tell myself it’s fine. You’re so cold when you’re next to me—sometimes. There aren’t enough togethers. It feels like there aren’t enough kisses. Like I haven’t seen you enough or looked at you for long. I don’t want to feel like I might forget you. I want to get lost in your eyes. I don’t want to be found. All the days mix together. All over my clothing. I loved. Coursing through my body. It’s different this time.

xo, p.
7/7/2019

Edit [feelings]: somber, lonely.

And I’ve always loved you like waves,
Crashing onto the shore.
I kept telling myself,
I can’t love you like that anymore.

The smell of you lingers;
Covering my clothes;
Pouring out of my pores.
Hanging on my heart,
Like a car freshener.
Rooted like a tree.
Consuming all of me.
The taste of your tongue--
Is etched in my buds.
Drooling for more,
Of this unwanted love.

“Fall in love with a writer,” they said,
And you’ll live forever.
Written on paper.
Compostable like never.
​Your words don’t mean a thing.

​xo, p.
10/10/2018

Green eyes—like I’ve never seen;
Full, when they look into me.
Stubble across your face;
Smile—melts me right in place.
Your wet kiss makes me feel:
I want your skin right here.
Swept up in this love,
Like take all of my heart.
All yours for the taking--
But I’m so good at loving.


​
xo,
Paulina Tuy
11/2018

1. Hint-Man
The damn guys that just cannot take a hint. Seriously, have absolutely NO CLUE. They follow you around; they know your entire schedule; they text you hourly...the ones who consistently, without-too-long-a-period-inbetween-communication-methods, make it known they are trying to fuck you. They slide right into your messages & automatically assume YOU want to date them. These guys have OBVIOUSLY never been fishing ... put the bait out there in a timely manner & wait. If she bites, you’ll have her hooked.

To avoid this: don’t always text first. One word responses are generally a red light. As my son says, “mama, when you say maybe, it always means no.” He is absolutely already smoother than most of the guys in the dating scene.

2. Mr. Honesty Policy
Yup. He’s a liar. Probably a cheat. He wants and expects you to be completely open and honest to him, at his beck & call, but fails to mention he’s married with two kids.

3. The Joke
This guy makes everything a joke. Everything is fair game to be poked at and prodded at your expense. It’s all funny. It’s all middle school. It’s all: “I’m never gonna take anything seriously because I don’t want to get hurt like I was before because everyone hurts me in the end and I’ve never learned how to deal with serious or personal feelings... what even are emotions? Can you prove them?” It’s all sarcastic humor, hiding trauma and an emotionally unstable history that he hasn’t been able to deal with or find closure with.

Or he suffers from Aspergers.

4. Prince Charming
....but damn girl, you can’t even get a text back. He’s plaaaaaying you but you think he’s so perfect, that it doesn’t even matter.

Use me, baby, let me love you.

5. FUCKBOY
Obviously, the boy—yes, the youngin’ that lays you a good one & you can text anytime you want to come over. Hell no, this isn’t gonna work. Hell yeah, you’re gonna catch feelings. But guuuurl, it’s not worth it.

Okay, maybe just for tonight....

Now the difference between a FUCKBOY & Prince Charming is the idea of “marriage.” A FUCKBOY is someone you develop feelings for because of the orgasms he’s giving you & you’re experiencing a drug-like high. My friend calls it “dickmatized.” Basically sex addiction. A Prince Charming is someone that alludes you with an idea of “happily ever after.” He plays you when it’s convenient and it’s sooo damn convincing. Basically a sociopath.

6. Honey
“Good morning beautiful.”
“How was your day?”
“Sweet dreams, sleep well.”
“Hope you have a great day!”
“You can get any guy you want...”
“Let me take you out?”
“I can treat you right.”
“Princess.”
“😊😊😊”
“Thinking about you.”
“You’re so pretty.”

....you get it, right? I fucking hate honey.

7. Ghosts
These are the ones from your past. The friends, the hookups, the ex’s—all the ones you’ve had history with. The unfinished business that didn’t play out or work out. Yeah, they’re here to haunt you now.

The term “Ghosts” also work for those dudes who are talking to you, trying to date you, seeing you, fill-in-the-blank with you—but aren’t actually WITH you. Because they’re just shells without souls & you can’t really SEE them. The ones with their exes on their minds or profiles. The ones who cannot see the YOU in front of them. You know what I mean. And it hurts.

8. The Nice Guy
....well, that speaks for itself.

You went out—he’s sweet, but not aggressively. He’s a great catch with a really good job. He’s nice, witty, interesting, respectful, stable... and you just friend-zoned him because “nice guys ALWAYS finish last.” He’s your friend now. You guys send memes to each other. You “hang out.” You broke his heart when you said, “I just think we’d make better friends.” Then he goes & turns into a Ghost. Please see 7 for reference.

9. The one you want to keep.
You give a little. He gives a little. You text first. He texts first. Share time. Share memes. Share substantial conversation. Share laughs. Share a possible future. You meet someone you want to keep & you think he’s just perfect.

Yeah, hope that works out for you. Please see numbers 4 & 5 for reference.

Reach out! Let me know if I missed someone!
IG 📷: @tuywithme & I’m not perfect, I’m definitely on the list, too!

Sending love—xo, p.

I don’t want the warmth of the sun to tell me I’m loved.
I want the moon & all its stars, to hold me in its shadows.
I want the darkness to put me to bed.
In its silence, where everything feels already said.
The cold of the night, and the glistening moonlight, 
on the tides pulling me in, just to wash me away again.
I want you—And I want me—To be forever,
And everything.


xo
Paulina Tuy
10/2018

He's forgotten his keys again, so we opt to walk. The moon blowing a cool in the air and you can hear people in the bars laughing in the distance. It was still early--20 minutes to last call. It had rained, the sidewalks dark with light reflection. 

He steps up on the curbs of the pathway, intertwining steps, up on the stoop and down on the walk, up on the stoop and back down again. His arms soaring at his aid, zooming like a plane, keeping balance. I brace my sweater acknowledging how summer feels really over, the nights cooler than ever. His wobbly legs, drunk over to me, stopping me where I stand.

"It's beautiful," he says, his lips meeting mine, "you're my beautiful." The softness and the smoke left over his lips sweep me into his arms, the embrace warming me instantly. 

He pulls away, his eyes widening like an owl's. "Come here," rising excitement in his voice. He grabs at my arm and tugs me over to a darken storefront. The shadows of neon lights saying "Arcade" and "Tokens" through the glass. 

He's moving swift with his hands, checking and emptying his pockets. 
"Yes," he excites, putting coins in the little red box and turns the key. The chains creak and the bouncing of plastic down shoot. He opens the door and pops out a little plastic bubble. Throwing the plastic on the ground, he sets his knee beside them. 

"Marry me."
​
I stand silently--no thoughts in my head, no words come to mind. I look at his hands and then look back at mine. A metal band over the ring of my left finger, a Tinker bell right in the center. 


xo
Paulina Tuy
​4/2015

The sight of the black stubble across his cheeks, down to his chin, his pale, thin lips curved right at the ends. Wrinkles like arrows pointing right into his eyes; dark blue when he tells me he loves me. The taste of dry smoke on his breath, as crisp and cold as winter air.

I had never imagined a love like this.

His calloused hands, up and down my sides, grabbing hold of me tightly. I want him even closer. I want his skin to cover mine. His gentle lips making way across every little inch of me. On my skin. Softly. Surely. I want him even tighter. I want him to hold me so tight, I feel him in my bones. I want him even tighter--enough to massage my soul.

He pulls my black cami overhead; his hands, largely covering my breasts, sprinkling them with kisses. Wet. I tilt my head forward, look back down into the blue. My hips sway and grind, dancing against him with want. With love. Another kiss. A slip of the tongue. I sink into him, kiss after kiss and our breath become one.

I am his, and I have never been more certain of anything like this.

He thinks so deeply. I am lost within him. In the soul of his brain--I am a muse to the past  of all we've shared; the presence of him here; the everything that is still so close and yet to come. The thoughts in his head, whispering of nothing more right than this now. Than home. Than love. Than us. There needs to be nothing more to think but the perfection of our soul.

I feel so vastly. I feel him at my every move. I feel him in all emotion, at every emotion. I feel so certain. I feel his soul intertwined in mine. The fit of his love, his caress, his eternally loving breath. An unconditional knowing. He frees my heart and me in feeling.

Nirvana. 


xo
Paulina Tuy
​12/2014

And just like that he was gone.


And my heart aches. Pain demanding it's presence.


The wind began to pick up and more than anything it was too cold for September. Empty winds blowing goodbye breezes against my face and my spirit too burnt for any tears.


Loneliness wasn't a terrible feeling. There is enough to keep me busy. Too much to do and no time to think. Life moves on even through heart break. Whether it be a day, a week, a month or a year. You learn, sometimes you're alone. You entertain yourself. Dinner for one. One six pack. You learn to budget. Order netflix. Read another poem. That's okay. You learn to trust yourself, by yourself, with yourself, be yourself.


Goodbyes are often followed by hellos. New chances, new opportunities, new people...and the people you never had time for. Best friends became new again. Old friends sometimes became strangers--hitting on you through times where comfort is needed. All these things shine in a totally new light. Because it is new again. You are changed forever. You are a new you.


Maybe we loved each other more than we should have. Maybe we drowned in passion and chaos. Maybe we said goodbye before our time. Maybe it just wasn't the right time. Maybe it wouldn't have worked anyway. Maybe if was meant to be. Maybe it will all be okay. Maybe you just fucked up.


I loved you. I will always love you. I begged you to stay. I wanted more than anything for you to not be making a mistake. But I can't tell you how to live your life. And in this, moving forward is the only next step. No more questions, no what ifs, what could'ves, no more pasts passing through my thoughts. Its what now?


Find someone you love so much that no other person will do. Find someone who makes you feel and fly and laugh at the dust specks in the sky. Find someone whose arms feel like home and whose breath fills your lungs. A love deeper and fuller than all the oceans. Find yourself. Find love. Find simplicity. Find your future. Find your life.


You once said: "but darlin' all you need to know--in you my presence lies." But you're not here. You left me long ago. When you made the choice to leave. No one seems to understand every choice we makes ripples waves in our lives and impacts the boats sprinkling and floating peacefully on the lake. Stop rocking the boat. Promises don't mean shit.


Edited:


And now you want me back.


Trying to stitch up pieces of a broken me, saying we can go back and be happier ever after. As if it was ever that easy.


The years pass quicker than ever now. 25 years old and dying everyday. One step nearer, but not closer to the simple life I want. More than late night drinks, all night sex, light reading, blunts to the face, laughing and being nothingness. I need more than being. I want living.


The smell of waffles and coffee in the kitchen, Sunday morning, music dancing and swooning, laughter, light, living, loving. Life.


xo
Paulina Tuy 
10/2014

Dearest beautiful. You deserve love. You are capable.


Wallow. Cry and snuggle with slippers, extra blankets, a messy bun, romcoms and turn off your phone, shut down your social media (for real! deactivate it, do not resort to it, it will NOT make you feel better) and read a book (a book...with real ideas and real substance--not People magazine). And if you really need a donut, hell, no one is judging you. Eat it.


Remember, you're you. There is something special about the you that you are, and don't lose sight of that. You deserve love. You are capable of love. You will find it again. Losing someone on a level you knew almost as much as you know yourself is a hard thing. Or maybe, you hardly knew the person they were becoming. People will change because people will always be growing and developing. As are you, dear one. They learn and our brains are always taking in something new. Be thankful to have opened your heart up like that, enough to let them in and be proud that you were there, that the both of you shared something special on a completely intimate level.


Remember that your relationship does not define you. So what, if you are use to making coffee for two. So what, if the place you always go to get take out assumes your full order by your caller ID. So what, if the socks and boxer-briefs are on sale or you know that he's gonna need deodorant. So what if you can't reach that spot in between your shoulders--let it itch. So what.


Remember, the world doesn't end or stop because you're sad and angry. There are no "broken heart" paid days off. Remember the world is still rotating and time is still passing. You still have a kick boxing class at 2 and a date with your best friends on Friday night to see that new Ryan Gosling movie. Just remember, time ticks--"this too will pass"--either wallow in its pain, suffering at the heartache. Or get up, go to the gym, take a long steamy shower, sign up for a new art class, flirt shamelessly with the barista you didn't notice before...put yourself out there. Feel!!!!!! something else.


Remember the good times and let there be other good times to come, too.


You're not broken just because your heart feels it.


Broken hearts will mend. We will grow. We will learn. We will.


xo
Paulina Tuy 

​Key inspiring Thomas Wolfe quote about life:

Oh, runaway man;
You got living to do,
People to meet--
Somewhere new.
Runaway man, you've got
no explaining to do.

Happiness will find you.
Runaway man,
What have you here?

East coast sands at your feet,
Stale salty Atlantic Ocean,
Sunrises and spent of surprises.
Nothing waits for you here.
It's all used and washed up.

Runaway man, live.
Live things to be live.
New feelings to arise.
Runaway man, find.
Find what you seek,
To feel less empty.
Runaway man, float.
Sail away in winds unknown--
Just be kind to those
you use to call home.



Dedicated to the one man running.
June 23, 2014

xo
​Paulina Tuy

I am a woman. I am beautifully imperfect and oh, so flawless. I feel and speak before I have one second to process or to think. I cry over commercials and compare cereal brands. I walk up and down the Stop & Shop aisles. All of them. I drink too much tea and constantly need coffee. One bottle of wine is never enough. I drink too much. I'll tell you no matter what--I weight too much. I'd buy every shoe and things that remind me of you. I care for children that aren't mine. I am always a mother. And love like you can't imagine. So much--you literally cannot fathom. I am scared. I am always scared. The AC makes me chilly. I am always too cold. I'll turn into my mother, fearing getting old. I love little black dresses and most things pink. I think doves fly when I sing. I sing to every song on the radio, good or bad, with a beat always stuck in my head. But I suck at karaoke. I flinch at bees and won't kill a spider. And I'll cry some more. I cannot commit to whatever it is I want for dinner. Thai, Chipotle, fast food or vegetarian-ism. I've definitely been too tired and faked an orgasm. I collect pretty adorable stationary notes, feed the ducks and laugh at my own jokes. My stories ramble without some sense. I breathe in deep and sometimes, I'll forget too pay rent. I talk entirely too fast. I make lists on pieces of paper I'll lose. I'll regret my decision as soon as I choose. I obsess if I am not quickly distracted. I'm so easily lost and distracted. I loathe Hello Kitty. I crave a good old fashion mystery. I hate that I love a surprise. There will never be enough chocolate or "only one fry." I hold on to old clothes that don't fit. Until clean-up day, when I go to donate it. I thoroughly enjoy the rewards of community service, but I hate the announcement when others publicize it. I do not Instagram--but take a pretty mean selfie. I like getting news before others have a chance. I am prone to silly random acts of dance. (It's not good.) I fall under episodes of insomnia. I walk with clumsy grace--my head held high and the biggest smile on my face. I'm too stubborn to know any better. I need the last word to forever. I passionately feel like the oceans: in repetitive waves of powerful grace. Talking about sex is certainly in my place. I am sexy. I am free. I am comfortable in my own sexuality. Learn to love me, or baby, leave me. I can make you feel entirely alive--dancing carelessly wild. I have red hot cinnamon passion, hate marshmallows and need romancing. Prince Charming is Mr. Darcy. I don't know a thing about stick shift, will someone teach me? I don't have too much pride to change a tire. Or push my own car out of the snow. Whoops, here I go... I know nothing about bourbon, scotch or whiskey--but I know tequila makes me very frisky. I breathe too loudly at night and will hog all the covers. Sometimes I lack common sense. I believe happiness is the warmth of sunshine on your face. My eyes burn bright brown in the light. I don't believe in giving up, without one hell of a fight. I'm tougher than I get credit for. I'm so hard to read--but baby, you see right through me. I am everything. I live in utter madness. I thrive in chaos. I am always under some stress. I care too much--you have no idea. I am terribly insecure but I've never been so sure: I am woman. 


xo
Paulina Tuy

A field of fresh flowers remind me of the beauty between us. Blossoming free and growing wild. Wind blowing the scent now lingering in our memories of this moment. This moment and forever. And my love, we'll never let this love die. You got sunshine to warm even the coldest buds and enough of your shine to light up all of the dark. And I'll collect seeds, along with my memories, to grow us and plant us and we'll soar so high, we're laughing with the skies. Our scent will free us and fall upon the noses of others. I'll remember to water with tears of joy. We'll grow. We'll root. We'll reproduce. We'll bloom forever. People will bunch us up and give us away and we'll make each of them smile--the way you make me smile. Our garden blooms so much love and happiness. Our hearts will grow like a garden of wild flowers thriving through seasons--always coming back for more.



xoxoxoxoxoxo
Paulina Tuy

this is not happy. this is not a cry for help. this is a rant.

Sometimes.

sometimes i never want to leave the coccoon of blankets and pillows in my bed
sometimes i get so lonely, I get lost and confused in my own head
sometimes people just dont understand;
it's not always happiness and sunshine on command

sometimes i take pretty long showers
and the salt on the drops make me want to forget the hours.
the hot water cascading and washing away
feels like I'm starting over today.
sometimes i want to open up wide
and drink all the water coming inside
sometimes i feel like im drowning and there is no water
choking and broken.
sometimes when i get out, i blame it on the soap in my eyes,
I try and pretend i'm not dying inside
sometimes i can't make out the shapes,
because the steam is so cloudy and hides all the fakes

sometimes you get kicked down so many times
and you try to look up, but there's no one around

sometimes you really do forget to eat
it just seems like something is eating up at you
sometimes i feel like i'm reverting to pasts
like all the times spent was just a waste of gas
you think you've made it far, kid
until you're drowning in waters too deep 
until you're falling without feet
until you're crying defeat
until you lock yourself in
and throw away the key
because no one can save you
when you're lost
when you're gone 

sometimes you think you've got it all right
and then you realize it's all in the fight
but youre tired and broken and used and abused
and you're done with the action, because you have nothing to lose.

xo, p.
​10/2013

Things have changed since Teen Mom became a "fad." Single, young mothers now are all along the map and hiding in all the nooks and all the crannies of the dating scene. Chances are you know a few single, young, amazing mothers out there--juggling so much work it's unbelievable and playing good, young, fun and wild. 

Beware! I tell ya! We're in a class all our own.

Single, young mothers and dating:

1. The club and the whole bar scene is jaded and kinda tacky. 

We moms are extremely familiar with a life different than the other 24 year old targets in skimpy tops, bellies without "stripes," too much makeup on and 6 inch heels with unnecessary straps. However, just because I am a single mother doesn't mean I don't want to feel and be sexy, too. We moms look for someone that can make us unreservedly happy. And someone who could possibly be important to our child(ren). We're the dater looking for dates for our children, really. So who is truly looking for a possible father/mother figure out at the clubs and bars? Exactly. Yeah, I'm all about having a good time, living free and being crazy-wild; BUT I have too much to live for, to die. I'm a responsible mother who wants, who needs and who is capable of so much more. 

2. When to bring up "motherhood" in conversation:

You meet someone that just so happens to be a complete stranger, maybe even an old friend, just someone that is oblivious to your child(ren)--they spark your interest and you hit it off really well... There comes a point when you're going to need to talk about the true love of your life. For all the readers in the world, there is no right or wrong way to start out this subject. 

Some mothers will tell you RIGHT AWAY--here I am, love me or leave me alone, mamas. Some are sluggish at the base--oh, you did know? I'm a mom... Some are like me--I am me and I am amazing and I am a-mama-zing. 

It doesn't matter how the conversation erupts, it just has to. And in that instant you are putting yourself out there, to be judged and profiled as someone's preference or an option. That's some heavy stuff.

3. When you both establish a bond, or a routine, or a rhythm. When you both realize that this guy could be worth a try into something deeper. When it's time you both want and decide to take the next step. "Facebook-official" shit. The boyfriend & girlfriend talk. You know that middle school flirting. And "check yes or no" notes. All that jazz.

4. This chapter is strictly an optional precaution. At this point, depending on the relationship you have with your child's father, you both agree that this new man in YOUR life is appropriate for being a man in YOUR child's life. 

5. The meeting and lesson. (Meeting the family, the parents, the friends--everyone first degree in your life so they can make judgments of character you were too lovestruck to see.)

6. The final exam: the moment and the time spent together has brought you here. The day/event you plan an introduction between the two halves of your heart. It's easy for children to open so freely and love so vulnerably. But this is important because this is for you. This marks the step between winter or just a stroke of wind. 

7. Love! When it gets to the point of love and wholehearted, unconditional love. That's the moment when you know he is capable of loving your child with all that he loves you with.

Edited Version 
Things you should know about dating and a single, young mother:

1. We like to be and feel sexy, too. Compliment away. Flattery will get you far.

2. You will always only be second best. Just because she doesn't tell you that, doesn't mean it's not true. Yeah, you do make her incredibly happy. And yeah, she loves you. But you have to be alright being number two.

3. Her time is limited. There are always a million things to get done and she has to juggle it all--baby, work, errands, sports and rec, friends, family, you. When do you think she get a minute to herself?

4. We never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever times infinity, want to hear things like: 

"We'd be perfect together--too bad you have a son." 
"It's too bad you have a son, or I'd ask you out myself."
"In and outed her, too bad she has a son..."
"Chick has a kid, I'm not about to get all into that."
"Did you breast-feed?"
"Your boobs are so soft."
"Are your boobs shrinking?"
"You're boobs are still amazing after breast-feeding." 
"Did you tear?" (EXCUSE ME?)
"I didn't know you were a milf."
"You're a milf."
...or anything with "milf" in the sentence.
"You can have my baby..."
"We'd make a beautiful baby."
"Can you get a babysitter tonight?" (Any time after midnight.)

5. Not all of us are a horrific episode of Teen Mom, kind of train wreck. 

6. There is a reason why we're not with the baby's father. Don't think you already know what it is.

7. We. Are. NOT. Easy.

8. We still have dreams and goals and beautiful, amazing things we want to see and do. Don't judge us for expressing these things to you. 

9. Some of us try really hard to NOT use our baby voice/talk in bed ;)

10. We are capable of loving so amazingly, to a point you have yet to see, because we're aware of the love we have for our children. 

Sometimes things become so cloudy and unclear. Sometimes it can rain for days. The work we invest and the things we all thought we knew--sometimes all that and everything. Just. Falls. Apart. Sometimes we just get so damn worn down and hurt and lost. We lose focus. We lose touch with our thoughts, our goals, our intuition--sometimes we just begin to lose ourselves. 

In a world full of the unexpected and chaotic, sometimes the only thing we have left to do is to let go. There is nothing wrong with just letting go, trusting it all. Sometimes, we need to shut down and just start over. L O A D I N G ---

As we get older, it becomes harder for our minds to forget because we learn. In all the pain and sorrow, we learn to guard our hearts. We learn how to think and fend for ourselves. We look at the world as full of "bad guys" with bad intentions. Even when we've never been truly broken. We begin to ignore all the cat calls by beautiful strangers and the piles of phone numbers in jars for rainy days. 

We work on the silence. We find ourselves. Regroup. We fall in love with new things and places. We begin to find beauty in all things and faces. We grow into our skin and realize this is it! I am fully in love with this very moment! This is all I need. 

And then lightning strikes. 

Sometimes, when you least expect it. It turns your world upside down and throws you out of breath and you try to fight it. Fight it because you know it could be hard and it might punch you in the stomache over and over...you fight it until your gloves have worn and your knuckles are bruised and bleeding. You fight it because you're not prepared. You fight it because even though fate is a beautiful idea--it's only been a myth thus far. Beautiful things always end. You fight it because you don't want to break--set yourself up for utter embarrassment and failure--because it's too damn good, to be this damn real. 

Until you can't. You just can't resist the shock of lightning. Sometimes, you find yourself free falling into an unknown emotion in the arms of a stranger--who sees you. All of you in that instant. A lesson you have yet to learn. A strange reoccurring dream that makes you so damn happy that you don't want to wake up. But you will. It's the flash of beauty and brilliance and brightness right before a star burns out. Convulsing through your veins. You feel lost & for the first time ever--you're perfectly okay with it. It's like you just decided to pick up and run, as fast as you can, for as long as you can, and you end up at home. You're tired and your shoes gave you blisters, but no matter where you turn to try and run--you're at home. It's like having magic and never needing to use it. An emotion you never knew existed or felt.  It's like seeing a perfectly colorful world, with blind eyes and hearing. It's all the words you thought you knew--had on the tip of your tongue to say-- and they're gone. You've lost all your words. It's when you laugh so damn hard, that your body begins to cry. It's when all of your favorite songs play on the radio at the same time. Mass confusion. It just hits you. And then it laughs at you, kisses you, and makes love to you in the loudest, most painfully delicate of touches. 

Sometimes, lightning strikes you dead hot and leaves you burning cold. 
xo, p.

"Are there enough veggies in here? ...more carrots it is," the chill from the fridge raising the hairs on my skin, "I know he needs to eat more protein and meats...water bottle--check. Extra clothes and bag--check. Clothes--check. Lunch--done." Midnight and I'm exhausted. I practically crawl up the stairs and ready myself for bed with a loud and exasperated sign, "Finally." 

The comforts of my bed alarm me to reality when it strikes 6. It always seems colder when you make the motion away from the safe haven, sateen sheets. I shower, brush and dress. I brush and dress the stiff and still-sleepy James. We pack up the car and head to school with our hour and twenty minute commute in store. 

From time to time, I peek in on him and see how he's doing. 

Five rolls around and another two hour drive is in store. I ask him how his day went, give him snacks; we sing songs and dance to the stop-and-go traffic. When we get home, this mama relaxes a bit until dinner time calls. Spaghetti and meatballs sound good. I water down his juice. I try my hardest to get him to eat most of it...a never-ending struggle! We splurge with TV time--if he's good. And it's off for a bath. James cries when it's tooth brushing time, unless we count to sixty, twice. I tuck him into his own bed, play Disney Radio on Pandora and hold him tight. And that smile and those kisses goodnight tell me I'm doing a pretty okay job. 

And sometimes, I wonder: am I doing a good job? What can I be doing better? How does that mama do it? It's an abyss of questions--a fight for answers. 

No one ever really knows what motherhood is like. No one can truly be ready for it--even after you've had three years experience, even if you've had fifty! Mothering is as different to the individuals the mothers make. 

Sometimes, James is a billion different things, sometimes he's just so much to handle. Sometimes I lose my patience and I'm on my last straw. Sometimes there is just no more gas in the tank. Sometimes, James whines for no reason, sometimes I'm confused what he's doing or where he learned that... Sometimes James is every emotion I feel in one second. I'm grateful for those times. I am grateful I have Mark. Because although I don't know where I'd be without James--I'd be completely lost without Mark. 

Parenting isn't easy. There are no right or wrong answers. There is a commitment in time, a life you're dedicating to another, an amount of love that can never be understood. Being a mother is being everything--it makes me better for me and for him. And cheers to that. Being a mother is @#$%!@$$?%%^$?$?# because it is definitely indescribable. Cheers to being the best mama, and the best you, you can be.

So, cheers to the workaholic mama; the mother who wakes up at four thirty in the morning to prepare lunches, mama. Cheers to the single mothers and the single fathers who makeshift for the no-mothers. Cheers to the "I-said-no-100-times-and-you-did-it-anyway," mama. Cheers to the 16 year old mama, who doesn't care about being on TV. Or the adopted mother of six. Cheers to the potty training mothers and the loads of laundry they have to do everyweek, mamas. Cheers to the "five-second-rule" mothers and the strictly, only organic ones. Cheers to the best mothers, who are raising the Be the Best You, mamas. Here's to the mamas at the supermarket, with crying, tantrum babies, who want that candy bar, but you're sticking to your guns--no--mamas. Cheers to the mamas that answer a million questions everyday. And the mamas that have so much to be thankful for. Cheers to the mamas who haven't the time. Or haven't the sexy-time. Cheers to the stressing mama with more money going out than coming in; the laughing out loud, silly mama; the "HE JUST TOOK A STEP!" mama. Cheers to the cheery mama, the drive you to soccer practice mama. Here's to the step mothers, grandmas and the aunties. Here's to the generations of maternity and the future mamas. Cheers to the new mothers and the up until all hours of the night, new baby--I'm sorry we all know how you feel, mamas. Cheers to the tattoo'd mamas, the anxious mamas, the teachers who act like mamas. Here's to the older siblings that are there for you, mamas. Cheers to the happy mothers--or the "I-have-no-idea-what-I'm-doing" mamas, we've all been there, too! Cheers to the mothers with sweet potato in their hair, or the ones that are working on their fourth cup of coffee, mamas. Cheers to the mamas that tell their kids to "slide down and go around," mamas. Cheers to the mamas, with bigger and older, and graduating college mamas. Cheers to the mamas watching their babies have babies, mamas. Here's to the mamas across the world. Here's to the mamas that are being judged by strangers everyday, mamas. Cheers to the nipples that are sore and aching, mamas. Here's to the mamas that are selfless and loving, caring and unique--the mamas honestly trying their very best, everything that they are, to give you everything you could ever dream. Cheers to the mamas who now know what is means to love something and someone so much.... Here's to you.

I promise you're doing something right.
xo, p.

​

I have loved and I have been loved. I will forever continue to love, and in my quest for understanding I have unloved, detested, even hated. I have wanted to believe in the faith of humanity and the faith of love-- but its answers have broken me. I have been broken for the longest time, and I see this now. As human beings, I believe we can only take so much before our hearts are filled. We fill with experiences, people, passions, reflections, sometimes hate. And we try to keep our hearts locked up in defenses we don’t even realize we have created. Along with English Philosopher John Locke, I believe the human mind is born as a clean slate; as we progress through our lives we take in what we live, what lives around us-- we learn and store in all the experiences- kind of like a buffet line and as the food piles up it creates a significant dish-- that dish being each one of us, in all our particulars, the good, the bad, the everything.

I must confess I can be so heartless sometimes. I find myself pushing away the people I love-- the people that love me. I realize that comes from my mother. I fight over minuscule things; over-analyze every word; and I am so capable of taking it to the lowest level. Sometimes, I feel more hurt than I can control and I get so mean-- so cold sometimes. I fear falling into all the vulnerabilities and spontaneity of love, to think I never experienced the heartbreak. I lied. Mark broke my heart. And each day I try living with that and mending my heart; I know it takes an incredibly strong one to forgive and to honestly love like you’re heart was never broken, but it’s so hard sometimes. Maybe it is even deeper than I could lend my finger toward... My life hasn't been a fairy tale. Maybe I realize now that I have lost hope in love and happiness--and even trying.

My father is working on his third marriage. My mother and stepfather are both divorced previously and it seems they still don’t have it right. My grandparents were divorced. Mark’s parents are divorced. My best friends all seem to have divorcee parents. And everyone else is signing papers, fighting or breaking off engagements. It just seems like nothing around me is working. I don’t see anyone to their happiest capacity. Is it even completely possible to love and live happily ever after anymore? 

I fear being alone, being unloved-- being replaced. I’m just so afraid to be left, hurt …and so I push. I feel if I’m preparing for the end, it won’t hurt as much when it actually happens. I fear one day when I least expect it, at my happiest state, someone will leave me. I may never be good enough. So I don’t want to be happy because that happiness means I won‘t be prepared. The love and relationships I've been surrounded by have mostly ended in hurt. I see the tears and hear the anger. I sense the bitterness and feel the disappointment. Love and hurt and hate… it’s all so intertwined. And I’m scared. I have taken in so much around me, regarding love and loss; and I don’t know what it is anymore. Does love exist? Or are we all just settling and nesting for our lives and families? 

I know when I look at James, I feel this abundance of happiness and the best emotions. I know I wouldn't be as happy where I am if he wasn't in my life. I feel like I want to smile and laugh at just the thought of his face. I feel like out of everything so chaotic and wild; out of love and pain; out of every cell in my body--he is the one right thing. When I look at him, I feel blessed. I don’t know what else I can say to describe it-- this is thing called love. 

A part of me is lost. I can’t be absolutely certain I know what love is anymore. But then maybe I don’t want to search for answers. 

xo, p.

Waiting. She sat waiting. She was good at waiting; she was also good at a lot of things. But he didn't know that. He called and said he would be there at seven, the green glow of her clock showed 8:42. She wanted to remind herself why she always waited for him, she never knew,but she was always waiting. His dark hair and olive skin reflected in her mind and she tried to shake off the thought of how much she really loved him. She hopped off her bed, glanced out her window, and walked her slender pale legs into the bathroom. She started to wipe off the crimson eye shadow and the mascara off before it ran some more. There in the mirror she stared at what everyone thought was so perfect. She wasnt clingy or jealous like he said she was. She was just waiting for imperfetion to save her, like waiting for snowflakes in Christmas in July. And sadly, it always let her down. But another night alone didn't really bother her, she was use to it now. She to off her skirt, slowly, and left it lying on the cold, tile floor. Shaking, his cold hands was all she could think about. She wanted to know whom his cold hands were touching now. That was all she ever was to him.

She shivered and reached for a sweater. "Liar," she called to herself. She called herself a liar, because to her everyone is a liar and that was her reason for moving on. He lied about truly loving her, just like her mom lied about loving her father, or like a six year old lies about the broken glass in the living room floor. Or that thirteen year old lies about what she drank at a party and that she even went to a party in the first place. Such liars.

Pessimism. It was like money and Bill Gates to her. Which was ironic because on the outside she was probably considered the most happy and self confident person anyone could ever meet. She was like the head cheerleader in those teenage movies, or that dad cheering on his son at his first baseball game. She would make anyone feel better before considering herself. She didn't even know how to make herself feel better. She was such a pessimistic fool for thinking someone like that could love someone like her. "Hah!" she said, "I'm such a fool."

Fool. Someone once called her a "foolish and naive whore." People always seemed to hate her for no reason. Who was she to be so hated? Who was she-- she didn't even know. People always seemed to tell her what she didn't want to hear. She was certainly not a whore, a fool, yes, but sure as hell not a whore.

The bed was soft and warm. It smelt like an attempt of rainforest, or just the Febreeze softener on her sheets. The blue feather comforter was pulled up to her pink and puffy noise. She glanced around the room and realized she forgot to weigh herself. Like a solider ducting for cover from a bomb, she practically leaped into the bathroom. Catching her breath and calming her heart she placed her right foot on the scale, followed by her left. Her weight even distributed and she waited. 89 pounds. She was doing well, gained two whole pounds. She shuffled her slender pale legs out of the bathroom and her stomache growled. Her thoughts went back to the night. The clock now flashed 9:23. He hadn't called yet and it made her nervous. She leaned on the cold windowsill and tried to wait. Did she really expect a phone call from him? Why would he call? She shook her head. And she shook her body, grabbing the sleeves of her sweater. Whose idea was it to take a relationship break? She was regretting it now.

Alexa-- that s her name. That was where he was and what he was doing. Alexa was her name. She wasn't better than her, but she was definitely better than no one. He loved having girls flock to him, like ants on a melted Popsicle stick. He liked Alexa, who wouldn't? She was beautiful and graceful, much like her. But Alexa was loud, on the point of obnoxious. "Do guys just find loud girls attractive?" she thought. But it didn't matter to her. She didn't want to spend another night analyzing ants.

22 Amazing Things I've Learned From a Two-year-old

1. Making wrong choices can still put you on your right path. What have you. You can always find your way home.

2. It is definitely okay to ask a million questions. You can't know everything. 

3. It is also definitely okay to ask for help. Someone will always be there to help you. I promise.

4. Sometimes it's completely necessary to call out "Momma" -- every five seconds. And lather, rinse, repeat.

5. Random, spaztic dancing is and will always, be fun. *SEE BELOW!*

6. Naps are amazing, why NOT take one? zzzzzzzzzzzz

7. Sometimes you just realize there are foods you're not going to like. If you never liked broccoli as a toddler, you're probably not going to enjoy it now. Accept it, move on, and find something you do like.

8. Regular health check-ups are necessary.

9. Don't trust a 2-year old with a new box of crayons, markers lying around or Febreeze spray-- long story...

10. Getting older isn't the only thing that makes your sex life dwindle... *

11. Try to help when you can; yes, your hands are small & yes, you might not really make a difference, but you're there. And you're trying. And that really does help.

12. Find beauty and curiosity in all the small, simple and intricate things-- you will learn and grow from those things. And it is definitely okay to be curious.

13. Your parents have a huge impact on who you are today. And who you end up being tomorrow. Look to them for guidance; they love you more than you'll understand.

14. Some people won't know anything about you & hate you-- for hardly any reason. But that's life, those people don't matter. And those people suck. (Just ask my neighbor.) But wave Hello to them anyway. 

15. We all develop differently.

16. There probably isn't anything a kiss can't fix. And tickles are really just psychological.

17. Too bad not everything works like a light switch. Those things are soo cool, though!

18. You don't always need to "take something for it" -- sometimes all you need is a steamy shower, some warm milk and an earlier bed time. There's always tomorrow.

19. There is no mountain too big. Nothing you can't climb. Failure shouldn't exist in your vocabulary. 

20. It can be hard to let go, but easy to forget. 

21. What I see, I will probably do, because it's in my mind of memory. We're all sponges and we take in so much more than we think.

22. You are special. You are unique. Your memories are yours. You're life is yours. If only you can see how small you are in such a massive, bittersweet world. You have the world looking you straight in the eyes.

Sending love!
xo, p.

A Memory

"Shit,"
Was the first thing to leave my lips.
Running
Was the next think I could think of.
514 in the morning and my pants were
Wet.
The cold fluid ran
Goosebumps
Down my legs.
The feeling made my cheeks so
Red,
And a part of me just wanted to be asleep.
There was a growl in my stomach,
Hunger in my chest and,
Confusion in my brain.
Questions followed shortly after
Panic.
And then Google.
And then a phone call;
A soft voice on the other line,
"Come on in!"

My nostrils filled with the smell of
Cold.
The smell of cold looked a lot like
Red and orange leaves whistling in the wind;
Bare trees.
White lines from where salt and
Ice and snow had melted on the
Cement.
Smoky air leaving my body with every
Breath.
Pink on noses and
Scarves on necks; it was
836 AM on a
Friday. Every
Six minutes the sensation to
Push.

Hunger escaped me. I was too
Anxious and
Excited and
Nervous and
Everything crazy to be
Tired.
Voices got quieter as
School bells rang and
Cars backed up in
Traffic drove off. Another
Six minutes floated by with a
Push.
The crumbling of footsteps from salt in the
New England morning,
Came closer; as did the
Hospital. 


xo, p.
​3/2012

It’s been hard.

Well, no, not literally. But when your day-to-day is spent chasing around your little rugrat, cleaning up messes you didn’t make and trying to get just one more minute of shuteye or how your romantic nights are spent finally eating dinner together or falling asleep, head to shoulder, on the couch-- well, you start to get a little more than frustrated.

It seems every time the mood ignites and the flames start to roar-- clothes are flying, tongues exchanging… a whine is whispered. Soon the whine becomes a cry. And then the cry becomes a scream-- and damn it! now you have to go into that little boy’s bed because it’s three in the morning. You grab him; and rock him to relax; get him to go to sleep… and then next thing you know-- it’s eight am.

Sex. Gone. Lost with the snoring. Left with the time.

Then you begin to lust after it! ‘Oh, let’s in the shower…’ wink wink! Soon after you’re stumbling into the bathroom; bruising your shins; realizing the water is hotter than you anticipated; tip-toeing over squirty, squeaky bath toys and you realize: this is ridiculous. It’s just never going to happen!

Really? Seriously? Am I on some candid-porno television show?

I love sex, I do. But hell, these days, I’m a slut for sleep.

Just think: sex is fun, playful and brilliantly romantic, all together. And all that excitement is great, but as soon as that climax is over and those two minutes of pure emotion and bliss start to subside… well, all I really want is my body sprawled out, head on pillow, eyes glued tight and my brain in shut down mode. Sleep, to me, is another form of purity; all about relaxing and recharging, peace and calm. Doesn’t that sound refreshing?

The answer is yes.

These two are very much similar; both bring me happiness and pleasure; both are highly necessary for survival. These days it’s not easy to get clothes off, sex on. Being the glue in the family takes time, energy and work. You’re tired. You’re not feeling sexy. You don’t have the time… There is always an excuse! Forget them for twenty minutes and get it on.

And so, I have created a short play-by-play on  

SEX, SLEEP and SURVIVAL--

• Nap time is now called “Mommy-Daddy” time.

• Quit all-nighters. They are always a bad idea.

• Don’t let the carrot/green beans in your hair or the sweatpants your wearing stop your sexiness level. Putting on that sexy-flirty, matching panty set and a special splash of perfume in the morning sure set the mood.

• If you’re even shorter on the time, I hate to say it but forget the fore play! Do some quick kissing, some quick rubbing-- men are easy. It’s also not fair, they get porn.

• If it has been a while and you have been suffering, wake up a tidbit earlier and right before you send that hub off to work-- get a little action by making some moves.

• Car action is not bad action… but don’t get caught!

• There is a reason for ‘five hour energy.’

• And coffee. 

• Buy a vibrator. 

• Have a pretend affair. Everything is quick, hush-hush and extremely exciting.

• Hire a babysitter.

• Plan a sleepover or offer a night with the grandparents… God willing.

If you’re more creative putting sex in between your schedule or giving sex more time in your life, it will be a major success! Just don’t let the excess sexual activity interfere with your sleep mode and I think you’re good.  

Get Sexy! 

xo, p.

I have always been on the path to self discovery. Realizing in my wild twenty-one years what this beautiful life could consist of if I ever found it. I thought I knew who I was and what I was capable of but I find myself looking for more. I want more than the simple life I lead behind my brown eyes or the tint in my skin or trying to be everything.

I have loved and loved and love. I will always. Love has always been a large part of my life and for the longest time I lost my faith in the meaning of love. I was sick thinking of love as some go to reserve. Love was an idealist way of thinking and in my life it was never just as simple as to love and be loved. I was in love with a man who didn’t love me back, wholeheartedly. I ended up bearing his child as he left me for another. I’m now with this same man, finding out he was heartless. After fake promises and excess lies, I’ve learned to question the love I have for him. I’ve lost the faith I have in people and find myself settling. I’m too tired, too terrified to put myself out there. It has been tough on my soul.

School has been tough on my soul. It makes me question my abilities and the identity I always thought I was filling. I want so eagerly to impress my professors, my former classmates and my parents. My parents who still don’t think I am capable of finishing. My parents who still burden me to be the best and it‘s been like that my entire life. My judgmental parents reminding me not to fail, when that changes my thought process to “What if I fail?” My strict parents who shaped me into this overly-emotional-newly-liberal-lack-of-a-religion character. All my life I wished I could have had motivating and thoughtful parents; parents I wasn’t always trying to prove myself to. My parents that made me question the love they have for me or for each other. Their relationship shaped me into expecting what I want in mine. I wished I had parents to help me in my search of self-discovery. ‘I’m trying,’ I find myself saying continuously. ‘I can do this,” I remind myself every morning as the alarm scolds me awake and sleeping next to me is the man I call the love of my life. The love of my life who is half of my baby; who leaves me easily every time his ex comes into town. This love who breaks my heart daily, just to make me fall in love again. But reality beeps every time the alarm clock does.

That is another thing: I could sleep for hours. No, I could sleep for days at this point. I’m so mentally tired and physically exhausted, I find myself sleeping awake! The kind of sleeping I see in faces of students walking class to class or sitting in the cafeteria- even in zombies. Waking at five in the morning is taking its toll on my body and mind. I try exploring options to fight the pain; coffee requires massive amount of sugar and cream for me to be able to drink it; those energy drinks make me pee like I’m pregnant; all the candy I’m eating is making me gain weight; and then the option of sleeping just isn’t an option. People say it gets better- easier even, but those people are zombies, I think.

As I roam the lonely halls from class to class, I see unique, zombie-like faces and feel the brisk warmth of hearts and souls from the lives of the people around me, like schools of fish. We are all like schools of fish, some of us get caught up in the big, blue ocean; some of us are continuously looking for something more; and then the rest of us realize that we are just fish.

I'm not caught up in the world. I don't think it needs to change. I don't think there are things I need to see to make me love it any more. I think the world is an amazing gift, I'm happy I was given a life, love and family to share it all with everyday I breathe. I know no matter what we do in the lives we are given, change is minimal. It is in our fate what is to happen when it does. I think the people in this world- me included, need to just realize everyday is another day to be thankful for what you have. I don't need to be caught up in the world to understand my blessings.

I'm not continuously looking for more. I don't need to travel, I'm happy where I am in the life I live. I know where I want to be. I don't need to find and look for peace. I have it in my heart and I think everyone does within their souls. Peace is acceptance. Peace is love. Peace is everyday in the normal, simple lives we live. When we breathe, laugh, dream and think- we are at peace. Peace is what is means to just be human.

That is all we are. We are human. We are meant to be just the way we are in our faults.

And our perfections. James Tuy Norrman. I have developed a fear of being without him. I feel like he is questioning where his mommy is when he stays with his grandmothers. I get over anxious, just in case something goes wrong. I fear he’s as lost without me as I am lost without him.

I began to think I under-estimated how difficult it actually is to be a full time student and mother. Recently, I was on the subway and some stranger won a seat right next to me. After a couple of stops he breaks the silence with his broken English, “You a Umass student?” Of course, I answered with a simple ‘yes.’ He continued, “What year are you?” I retorted, “It’s my first year.” He chuckled, implying his age.

I felt a tad embarrassed, “It shouldn’t be my first, though,” feeling my cheeks fill with color. He chuckled some more and retorted, “Oh yeah, and why shouldn’t it be your first?” I told him how I took off three years and that I wasn’t as young as I may have looked in my tiny mini skirt.

His face soon turned from his experienced chuckle to confusion. “What could you have done in those three years to put off school?” I felt somewhat of a stab. Like who was this man questioning my decisions? And how he wasn’t displaying an acceptable, societal behavior- for subway talk, anyway. “I took off three years because I had to,” realizing my choice of words were terrible, I felt a need to begin explaining my motives. “I originally took off a year because I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Then I applied to Umass and got in for the 2008 fall semester. I didn’t have my finances in order and missed the mark, so I didn’t attend. I wasn’t living at home-- made some bad decisions. I decided, after moving back home, to attend school in the 2009 fall semester. Then I found out I was pregnant.” His face turned again in acceptance, “Ahhh!” I continued with my story, “I didn’t want to leave my infant alone after I gave birth. And I didn’t want to make it in the winter semester with my boyfriend still at work. So I just started. My baby is old enough to know I’m here for him and I made a schedule to convenience me and my choice to go back to school.” He sat there in silence for a minute or two. Then he smiled. “Wow. Wow. Wow. I underestimated you.” Satisfaction filled me. ‘Damn right you did!’ I wanted to scream. But all I could do was smile. He laughed, “That’s honorable of you. You going back to school and raising your child. I don’t know how you do it.” I sensed an ooze of respect. He didn’t have to say it or anything for that matter.

Here was this man somewhere in his late twenties and he was showing me respect. After overcoming his pre-prejudice and his pride, he realized I wasn’t just some little girl. I felt like I held a different sense of wisdom than he. Our fate lead us in completely different paths, as we bid our farewells and he got off on the next stop. I then sat in reflection and realized I was capable of so much more. Just not in the R&R department and we’ll see where it all goes- hopefully not into that door with my zombie-like sleeping. 



xo
​Paulina Tuy