Scenes from a Proposal: The Boy

If you’ve had just about enough of the PROPOSAL talk, I suggest you check back later in the week.

‘Cause it ain’t gonna stop. I can’t help it.

And because I wanted to know what the day was like for him, I asked The Boy to write a post about last Tuesday. What follows is the way HE experienced the proposal. Two hours ahead of me and 2,300 miles away.

……………………………

I never imagined the day that I would witness an almost 5-year-old beat the daylights out of a couple of grown-ups in the game … er … sport of bowling. Yeah, the bumpers were up, and yeah, the “almost 5-year-old” (that would be MP) used ‘em. But so did the “grown-ups.” I didn’t think it could happen. Then again, a few months with Mommypie proved to me that a lot of things I never thought could happen, already have.

If I take step back and look at my life over the last 12 months + 2 weeks, I feel as though, had I been paying attention, I could have watched the stars align. What was phenomenally bad luck 12 months ago, in fact created a nearly perfect stage for what has happened and what will follow. Some say everything happens for a reason, some call it destiny. I think it just might be simple 1st grade math. 1+1=2, and 2 is greater than 1. Its just a matter of finding the right “one.”

I, yes I, found the right 1. And a few days ago asked her to MARRY ME. I’d be glad to tell you all about it, but I have a funny feeling you already know. What you don’t know is the flat tire, dead battery, no AAA, helpless feeling that I had all day and evening on that long day.

Marcy from The Glamorous Life had created “Thenotsofirsteverbutsinglegreatestbiggestandmostfun” Wedding Proposal Ever, and Mommypie’s Mommy had positioned the ring. Everything was in place. Except Mommypie, who was blissfully clueless. The text messages between us that day prove just HOW clueless. (Keep in mind I’m on the East Coast — two hours ahead of Mommypie.)

Me: 10:50 a.m. EST – Crocus flowers opened today. Its going to be a great day!

If you only knew how great. HA!

Her: 10:55 a.m. EST – I love it. It WILL be a great day. ILY

Her: 4:09 p.m. – Just ran into your dad at Columbo’s and had a nice little chat.

Crap, dad knows I’m proposing! And he can’t shut up!

Her: 4:56 p.m. – God I love you.

Me: 4:58 p.m. – Me too. Where are you?

Her: 4:59 p.m. — In the car headed to a coffee shop close to MP.

She could find the proposal any minute. Which means I need to finish my work, get my arse inside and onto the computer and pay attention.

Her: 5:51 p.m. 20 members so far today! Woo Hoo!

Whew, caaluewwwww-less!

Me 5:52 p.m. – Giddy-up

Me 8:36 p.m. – Pa Pie! Heh heh, you will get it eventually. Mean time, everyone is waiting.

Ok, time to at least make her think something is up.

Her: 8:38 p.m. – Wha? I’m home. Going to eat a little then home. Xoxoxo Mysterio!

Me: 8:41 p.m. – Then home? Are you at your mom’s?

Her: 8:42 p.m. – Yup just for a bit.

Cool. I have a minute to respond to all these FB notifications, and text messages!

Me to Mommypie’s Mommy: 8:44 p.m. – Please kick her out of your house.

Mommypie’s Mom: 8:45 p.m. – SHE JUST LEFT.

FYI, Mommypie’s Mommy had no idea what was happening. At this point the Blogosphere is going nuts, and I’m perfectly happy. I know her routine. Time to sit back, watch and enjoy everyone else’s anticipation.

Me: 9:34 p.m. – Go here. (Tiny Url forwarded from Marcy.) We can’t wait anymore.

Her: 9:37 p.m. – Wha? That link goes nowhere.

Crap. Call Marcy.

Me: 9:38 p.m. – Go read a blog.

Yeah, I was getting impatient. Only because everyone else was rattling the bars on the cage and threatening to tip over the Internet.

Me: 9:55 p.m. – Any blog.

Ok Bloglidites get her here! Its out of my hands now! And my patience is up.

AND THEN MY INTERNET CONNECTION BITES THE CURB. I HAD NOTHING.

Yup. At the exact minute my ship came in, I was yelling at my airport.

Her on the Proposal Blog: 9:55 p.m. – OH. MY. GOD. I really should be leaving some hugely profound comment here, knowing this post will be recorded and kept forever, but all I can come up with is … YES. YES. YES!!! If I could get the letters any bigger I would! If there were audio, you’d hear me laughing. If there were video, you’d see me smiling from ear to ear. I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU Dave. Yep. Soulmate.

Me: 10:35 p.m. — To my very own mother – SHE SAID YES! THREE TIMES!

Me: At this very second – Yup. Soulmate.

And … as Paul Harvey used to say, now you know the rest of the story.

Scenes from a Proposal: The Mastermind

Tuesday wouldn’t have happened the way it did without the awe-inspiring talents of Marcy of The Glamorous Life Association. If you don’t already read her, you need to start. She’s witty. She’s smart. She’s funny. And she’s one of my favorite bloggers.

Apparently, however, I need to do a better job leaving comments. After all was said and done Tuesday night, Marcy was afraid I didn’t know who she was.

I told her to put down the crack pipe.

And then professed my undying love.

And promised an open bar at the wedding. (Which, turns out, The Boy was already all over.)

We bloggers are a funny bunch.

So, I thought it important to share Marcy’s take on the events leading up to the Big Question. What follows is the email she sent late Tuesday night. The email that made The Boy cry. The email I will keep forever.

Hi there!

I have to say this first. I have a feeling when this all went down- you might have been thinking….”Marcy who?” I know you read me occasionally and I have commented a little on your blog. I think you and I emailed about the use of name/URL and Anonymous comment option at one point too. But I know that…I am hardly one of your closest and dearest blogger friends. I just wanna get that out there. So you don’t feel bad. Or creeped out. Or bad AND creeped out.

I left the original comment about ‘hey why don’t you propose on my blog’….when I was just trying to be funny. Which is pretty much every waking moment for me. I have a hard time at funerals. But that is another story…..

I was surprised when The Boy emailed me. I was thrilled…but surprised. And mostly I was honored. I felt honored to participate in such a life changing event. I never had the heart to tell him that, well….”Mommypie probably doesn’t even really know me.”….so I just ran with it.

We e-mailed every single day for about a month. Sometimes, many many times a day. And it was not long before I was totally charmed by him. Killer sense of humor. You are so lucky. Not to mention….hubba, hubba…he is a major hunk. (okay now THAT was creepy. Sorry). We talked about when, and how. And if he should be there or not. And how the heck we would get you to read my blog at a specific time!

As the e-mails progressed I learned more about him (like he is a dad, a woodworking guy, etc.) and about you. And I loved it. And then the job thing. Oh crap the job thing. He was on the phone to you and typing to me that we had to move the proposal up by several weeks. He wanted it now! SO I had to hussle and really get my ‘campaign’ in motion. I sent hundreds of emails….all personal pleas to people to participate. But the hard part was keeping it a secret……which I did until yesterday. Yesterday the whole frickin Internet KNEW. And to my surprise NO ONE told you. We all love a surprise I guess.

I came up with the linky idea (which I think took about 900 e-mails to get The Boy to understand the whole plan) and of course the Proposal 2.0 blog. Once I changed my header design and format- and he was not having it….and wanted it changed back…’cuz Mommypie will like it better’. Which was just adorable.

We chatted about the ring. He told me you wanted tattoo rings. And I told him…”she is just letting you off easy. Get her a ring. Any ring. She will love it” And I hope I was right. He sent me photos of rings and I sent him ones I had found too…..we were BFFs for a few weeks. The Engagement Planners (mmm, Lifetime movie of the week perhaps?).

I begged him for a photo. On bended knee with the ring. In a tie. And he tried. I mean, I think he tried….but it just didn’t feel right to him. So in the end we went with the check-out-how-serious-I-love-this-wood-table-photo he already had. Did you notice the hat? It says ‘The Boy.” Yeah I had fun with that.

So the day came. I posted it the night before actually. And for some reason…The Boy’s Internet wouldn’t allow him into my site! Oh it was crazy. I think we sent like 20 emails just that night back and forth. He was on the phone with you for most of it……and then yesterday.

He CALLED me (first time ever) in a panic about the ring. It didn’t fit in the mailbox and I almost died laughing that it was now waiting under a laundry pile. SO GLAMOROUS. I didn’t want you to come to my site until I had at least 40 links. I wanted you to really see that this was a big deal (it has done so well, even I am impressed! Up to 80 right now), and then the play by play started. “She is going to cafe with wireless.” “She is picking up MP. Its snowing.” “She is giving MP bath.” “She is eating at her moms! WTF!!!”…we were going INSANE. I went to your blog and left a comment….Finally I sent the email asking you to participate in Mr. Linky – and made it look like it went to loads of people….but even THAT didn’t work! So I sent The Boy a tinyurl for my site – which as you know by now he texted it to you…and you looked and said “I don’t get it”……ARRGGGHHHH! I was going insane and my phone was ringing off the hook. I was getting emails every minute from people wanting to KNOW!!!!!! When MY MOM called me asking if you read it yet…I almost fell out of my chair. Even my kids were asking for updates every 10 seconds. Oh it was TENSE.

Finally, thank God – finally YOU. READ. IT.

And here we are.

And there you are.

I was really happy to do this for you. You both seem like good, nice, normal people. And mostly I did it because you are being brave. You are taking a chance. You are swimming up stream and believing in LOVE and your own judgment. And those are things that I can get behind.

Well, I did it for those reasons and The Boy promised me an open bar at the wedding.

FYI. I have saved all of The Boy’s emails. So if you ever want them……for your grandchildren or something….let me know!!!!

Marcy

Heh. She thinks we’re normal people.

This I know is true.

This morning I awoke knowing one thing.

One. True. Thing.

The Blogosphere is tighter-lipped than a submarine full of government spooks. With Tourette’s. Wait. What?

(Yeah, I don’t know. It DOES paint a funny picture, though, right? Maybe it’s just me. Meh, roll with it.)

Three short months ago, the planets aligned and delivered me The Boy. Last night, once again, fate knocked on my door.

Scratch that. Fate SHOOK Bloggywood, rattling and rolling until Mommypie finally …

FINALLY!

answered.

Had I known there was an actual REASON to fold laundry, I’d have tackled the permanent pile on the chair long ago. This, coming from the girl who, just one year ago, wrote THIS defining post …

Will wonders never cease?

If you’re as speechless as I have been all day, and have no idea what I’m talking about, you really should begin HERE — read through the entire post and click the link at the end — and you’ll see how it all went down.

I am dumbfounded. Awestruck. And feeling so incredibly blessed to have found my perfect match.

The Boy? Let’s just say you’ll be seeing a lot more of him. (Oh yeah, And Pa Pie? The broom in the photo above is merely a prop. I had no mop. And no bucket. Or ball or chain.)

As for details … tomorrow, I promise. For now, I’m gonna sit here in this coffee shop, sip my chai, watch the snow come down and fixate on my ring finger.

Life is sweet.

Big changes brewing in Pie Town.

Okay, CLEARLY I’ve been in hiding. Kind of avoiding the poor old blog. Give me a sec and I’ll get you up to speed.

Last Monday I was laid off — for all intents and purposes, out of the blue — and rather than cry, my first reaction was YIPPEEE! Although I’ve made every effort not to vent about work here on da blog, my personal sanctuary, no doubt you’ve heard a few rants about the nasty office stew I swam in every day. Sharks, jellyfish and more often than not, a rusty spear in the back. Treacherous waters.

So, when I was called into the board room at 4:30 and told I was being let go due to the “economy?” It was as though a 50 lb. toilet had been magically lifted from my shoulders. Forget about being unemployed … I was FREE! And just like that? I became my own boss.

I’ve made what could be a life changing decision, Doogs. I’ve decided not to panic — instead, choosing to take advantage of this amazing opportunity to devote full time to my passion, Swap Mamas. (Oh, and the blog, of course … no more slackin’.) It’s a bit scary, but more than anything, it’s EXHILARATING. I’m doing something I love and helping people in the process, and it’s all a bit heady. So what if I’m broke for awhile? I’ll survive. I know if I don’t take this chance, I’ll regret it.

Along with my declaration of independence however, came a bit of unexpected revelation. Call it Twitter Exuberance. Call it Facebook Diarrhea. Suffice it to say, I’m out of the Blog Closet in my hometown, and that has caused a bit of internal … turmoil. Now that people in the bubble know I have a second identity … well, that changes everything, doesn’t it?

So there you go. Big week. Big dreams. Big change.

It’s all good.

Winners and Losers

In the Book of Mommypie, there’s the fantastic … and there’s the sucktastic.

This week’s WINNER:

YOGOS for their savvy marketing. Instead of offering a pain-in-the-ass mail in coupon or crap toy, they offer a chance to win CASH. IN THE BOX. And guess what? WE WON!

And although I have to admit, I’m really sick of companies shamelessly trying to sell me stuff when they know (they KNOW!!), everyone’s hurtin’ — this is one company who actually put some thought into what consumers might want during this little economic ‘situation’ we’re going through.

Honestly, I never would’ve picked the box off the shelf were it not for MP, who grabbed it, waved it over her head, and told me we HAD to get it BECAUSE THERE’S A SPECIAL CODE INSIDE, MAMA! Not surprisingly, I was preoccupied — two aisles ahead of myself — and had no idea what she was talking about. I told her to put it in the cart. Once home, she ripped into the box, squealed when she found a small envelope and passed it to me. I was a little more than surprised to find it contained a $5 cash card.

In my humble opinion, five bucks puts the secret decoder ring to shame.

This week’s LOSER:

The guy who sent me THIS tweet after I took a minute to send him a Direct Message when he followed me on Twitter. Which just happened to be the FIRST time I’d ever done that. He was just a local fellow single parent blogger and I thought I’d extend a hand.

“I am no longer following you: http://turnthisthingoff.com/”

Man, we’re a jaded lot.

Just for the record, I’m actually with him — I LOATHE the auto-responders, and had this link not been directed toward me I would’ve totally loved it.

Now I just think it’s rude.

A dark day in Smalltown USA.

This is the post I’ve been avoiding writing. I didn’t want to dwell, but feel the need to record what was a shocking and sad day in my hometown.

Our historic, picturesque little downtown blew up.

The blast took with it a beloved local bar, a restaurant, an art gallery, and a children’s store. In an instant that fateful morning, four buildings that had stood over 100 years … vanished. Windows as far as five blocks away were blown out. And adjacent buildings lucky enough to still be standing were quickly ravaged by fire.

MP and I were in the car, driving to town minutes after it happened. She pointed out the massive black plume visible 10 miles in the distance. My first thought was that a plane had gone down. We heard otherwise as we walked through the door to her preschool.

Once at work, information began pouring in. I learned the art gallery was affected and immediately thought of Tara, an employee. I knew her because my dad was a long-time exhibiting artist. I knew her because she was the little sister of a boy I went to high school with.

I called Bobo, told him the news, and expressed my concern about Tara. “Naah,” Bobo said. “They were never in before 10. She’s fine.”

Only she wasn’t. Tara had gotten to work early that morning, and was talking to her friend on the phone when the line went dead. People have speculated that’s when she flipped a light switch that ignited a natural gas leak, although no one really knows. It took three days to recover her body.

Amazingly, Tara was the only one to die. Had the explosion happened 12 hours later, it would’ve taken with it a bar and restaurant full of patrons. It’s hard to think about. The ‘what-ifs’ are too heavy.

Just three days prior, The Boy and I were in the bar that’s no longer there. Having a beer and a shot on a Monday afternoon.

This could very well be the last photo that was taken inside those walls. Damn, life is short.

My personal savior, ShamWow.

Tonight, as is the routine, when MP and I arrived home she bolted from the car and ran to Grammy and Poppy’s house. And just as I always do, I packed up backpack, lunchbox, sippy cup, artwork, boots, the mail, my bag, etc., and hauled the lot to our house next door.

I dropped everything at the door. I started MP’s bath. I went to the bathroom. I let the dog out. I walked out the door to go get MP.

And when Grammy asked if we wanted to stay for spaghetti dinner I said yes without hesitation.

An hour later, our bellies full, MP and I made our way home, across the driveway and up the snow-packed walk. Once in the door, out of habit, I walked directly to the bathroom to start MP’s bath. And a sick panic welled in the pit of my stomach.

Suffice it to say, the bathroom was effectively submerged. Water, water, everywhere, and not a mop in sight. I may or may not have used a few choice words. MP’s first reaction, on the other hand was to pull up her pant legs and puddle-stomp. Okay, I did a little stomping too.

But then I remembered my little Christmas gift to myself this year, sitting new and unused in the laundry room.

And now, I am officially a devout member of the Cult of the ShamWow. (And, all right, I DO love Vince’s nuts.)

You make me touch your hands for stupid reasons.

I am a hand whore. For some, it’s a good back scratch. For others, it’s having their feet rubbed. For me, it’s having my hands massaged.

Which is why this makes me laugh. (Make sure you turn up the volume.)

I confess. I totally make people touch my hands for stupid reasons.

What? Exploding Laundry?

I’ve been a very bad blogger. Between The Boy’s visit, Swap Mamas — which I’m OBSESSED with, btw — my town literally EXPLODING, and MP’s 5th birthday … sadly, the old blog has gotten the short end of the stick.

I figure the best way to catch up is a laundry list. Which brings me to:

1. The Boy. The yummy, lovely Boy. He folded my laundry. He fixed BOTH my toilets. He fixed Grammy’s sad front door, which has been held shut by an old screwdriver the past few weeks.

Doogs. He GAVE THE DOG A BATH.

Oh yeah. He played with MP. Willingly played with dolls.

The Boy even taught her a new game. Mardi Gras House.

Wait. Isn’t that a reality show?

Although admittedly, both of us were perfectly content to stay home and hang out, we DID take a few nights to ourselves.

Remember the pharmacist Grammy was dead set on fixing me up with? We ran into him at one of downtown’s popular pubs. (We all went to high school together, the pharmacist was a class ahead. Small town. Yadda yadda.) He parked himself at our table for a good 45 minutes and DIDN’T. SHUT. UP. He talked SO much, he didn’t even notice when The Boy smiled and texted me the following:

GUYS REALLY DO ONLY TALK ABOUT THEMSELVES!

Later, at another bar, sitting side by side, *I* didn’t even notice when The Boy texted me.

WANNA KISS?

*sigh*

Seven days of The Boy, and not once was I ready for him to go home. Given the fact I’ve lived alone for nearly 15 years, trust me, this is no minor detail. When he left, I cried.

And now, in a complete change of direction, it’s looking like The Boy will be back this summer.

For good.

Unbelievably, he’s decided to pack up and move back home. Granted, there are some pretty major things that need to be worked out before the moving truck arrives, but it feels RIGHT. It feels good. It feels like it’s meant to be.

Oy. I’ve blathered on and on, and now it’s 1:30 in the morning. Mommypie’s gotta catch some zzzzzs — falling asleep at my desk every day is becoming a dangerous habit. The laundry list, like the laundry pile parked on my couch, will have to wait ’til tomorrow.

In bed at one thirty? THAT’s discipline, People.

Going out to all the Non-Contributing Zeros.

The Boy posted this on Facebook — it’s really just too good not to share. Plus, I figure if I’m gonna phone it in, it might as well be for something this awesome.