Getting the girls ready for bed can be compared to a delicate dance routine. When we hit each step on beat it is a graceful thing to watch like the waltz. Yet, if we miss just one mark the rumba turns into a bloody rumble. It’s similar to a train wreck or Warren Sapp performing the cha-cha on Dancing with the Stars (they are one in the same), as horrible as it may be you cannot direct your gaze in another direction.
The other night it appeared as if Jenn and I were going to receive perfect scores from judges Len Goodman, Carrie Ann Inaba and Bruno Tonioli. The rhythm was there: bath, pajamas, milk, Blue’s Clues, teeth, story time, songs and prayers. While we were about to hit the ending by clicking the gate closed and move into our jazz hands celebration, shrieks of horror rang out from the bedroom. Rewinding the routine back in my head, I realized a misstep had occurred.
We had tucked Madison away for the night without her beloved Pink Blankie. Our oldest made it abundantly clear to everyone in our neighborhood that our lack of wisdom was an affront to God. How dare we forget to make sure her long laundry list of dolls, books and blankets were not all spoken for and wedged all around her. Maddie is incapable of sleeping without everything being in its’ place. They provide her a sense of comfort and support.
No matter how old we get we all are still children inside. We need something to cling on to get us through our days on this spinning globe. They may not be pink pieces of cloth with a silk border covered in slobber or a stuffed monkey in a dress. But, do not be fooled. Each one of us has our security blankets. The thing is we’ve become experts at concealing them so they are hard to detect with the naked eye.
There are three ladies in my life and they all make me feel secure when I know they are around: Lumpy, Jenn and The Harlot. Lumpy is my body pillow who I spoon through the night except for the agonizing stretches when Jenn is pregnant. Being married allows me to pass off Lumpy when I check into a hotel room on vacation and get weird looks from the guy behind the concierge’s desk.
One of the reasons I love Jenn is for the fact she was wise to my affinity for body pillows pre-engagement, but still decided to marry me anyway. This is a sign of a good woman. Without her by my side, I am lost and incomplete in so many ways. Jenn is the ying to my yang. She is the social butterfly to my inept conversations. She cares for people so deeply while often times I am a selfish dirt bag. This probably will come across wrong, but I don’t have to speak a word if we go to a social event because Jenn does all the talking for me and I would have it no other way.
First Lumpy created a divide in our marriage bed – literally. Having come to grips with the Great Wall of China, Jenn had to watch as I welcomed The Harlot into our relationship. With envy in her voice, ‘The Harlot’ is the name Jenn gave to my beloved Macbook. She knows if I would leave her for anyone, it would be this sleek white laptop that with my North Face vest, Buddy Holly glasses and facial hair complete the artistic trendy poser look I have tried to achieve for so long.
Yet, The Harlot is my security blanket for more than my image issues. I wonder if I pursued a career in writing because my words remain upfront while I stay behind the scenes. A shy guy like myself relishes the ghostwriter role. The laptop allows me to be the man in charge of every conversation. In this dialogue of one, I feel powerful and free. Trying to get my thoughts down on paper comes with ease while expressing the same feelings verbally is down right painful. With that said, the vulnerability of making my thoughts public in a blog terrifies me as well. Because if a reader rejects my writing then what I am left with? How will I make it through my days on this spinning globe? I guess it will involve draping my leg over every faithful Lumpy and crying myself to sleep at night.