Thankfully neither boy has been sick. Bobby's still vomit-free and Theo, though still off his food, has not thrown up again and is in good spirits. So, thank goodness for that. Friday night I really did not know what I was in for.
The first thing that happened was as I was strapping Theo into the newly cleaned car seat Saturday morning I discovered the lower latch no longer worked. So I had the choice of ordering a car seat online and not leaving the house until it showed up, or taking my chances driving him with just the chest clip on to go buy one. I chose the latter option. I hastily purchased a convertible seat at Babies R Us, thinking I could just install it in the parking lot. Yeah...no. My eyes glazed over the minute I opened the manual. On a whim I called Mom Guru's husband (the one who fixed my flat tire), and sure enough he was home with the kids, so I went over and he very kindly installed it for me. Turns out it was too big for Theo and couldn't be put rear facing, so we made it Bobby's front facing seat (which he was super excited about) and switched Theo to Bobby's Britax. Thank God for other people's husbands, huh?
With the kids feeling ok I was able to do my Saturday night gig and go to today's octogenarian birthday party which I did not want to miss, which was a relief. Missing all of that would have really been a bummer, especially after the week I'd had.
Now here's the roller coaster part. Yes, it involves The Love Interest. I saw him Thursday night at our meeting and of course had our usual nice time, but nothing was mentioned about getting together. So I said fuck it and texted him the next day about coming over for dinner. He wrote back some hours later (after car seat vomit fun) suggesting Thursday, which was of course the only night I couldn't do. Of course. I asked him what other nights he could do. And heard nothing back. Nothing.
This was Friday night. I didn't hear anything at all Saturday when I was dealing with the car seat stuff. And I'll admit freely I was utterly beside myself with dismay. That's it, I thought. I finally asked him for a real date and now he's letting me know he's just not into it (ignoring the fact that he wanted to see me this Thursday). Oh, I won't even get into all the permutations of thought that went on in my brain because it's far too embarrassing. Suffice it to say I freaked out.
Then this morning I got this:
"Stupid iMessage! Your reply only went to my iPad not my phone. Sorry I didn't see it earlier... Week after the 16th is pretty busy. What day is good for you week of 27th?"
"Also how did the gig go? Did you sing the new song?"
Awwwww. I feel like Kyrstie Allie's pathetic character on Cheers chasing after Robin Colcourt - "he loves me again!!!"
So he's coming over for dinner two weeks from Tuesday. And things will happen that night. Either fireworks, or "I like you, but..." He's not leaving this house without an answer one way or the other, dammit.
I have to say I have new respect for the handful of guys who have had the balls to ask me out on a date in the past, especially since I unintentionally became the Queen Bee in this swing dance scene here in LA. This shit is all-consuming and hard and a total mind fuck, especially when all players hold their cards close to their chest as I always do (old New York defense mechanism). Yes, I mocked them a little bit at the time because I was way out of their league(s), but hey, they swallowed their fear, called me up, and asked me on a date. They didn't just stay home and jerk off to Internet porn; they took a chance with a real girl. Hats off to them, every one.