Scary Thoughts

I’m still essentially bedridden for another week or so, so I’ve had quite a bit of time to sit and think lately. It must be the meds I’m on or something because the thoughts I was having this morning… Not funny at all.

First and foremost, Blake’s gonna be a daddy. Again. What the hell was I thinking? Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy and I think that, once he gets the hang of caring for an infant, he’ll be fine. And he’ll be good for the kids – firm (I hope!) but also loving and not too serious. But then, can you imagine the man in the delivery room? I have a feeling he’s gonna need his own nurse.

And then there’s school. I can just see Blake going in for a parent-teacher conference. “Yeah, ma’am, I know he’s a trouble maker and a smart mouth. He gets it from his mother.” Or this… “He was fighting? Did he win? Were there any weapons involved? Am I gonna need bail money?”

What about homework? The capital of Nevada is NOT Las Vegas, no matter how much they’d like to think so. The square root of 144 is NOT a Budweiser and a shot of tequila. Taco Bell, KFC, McDonald’s and Hooters are NOT the four major food groups.

Oh gods… I don’t even want to think about what’s going to happen when Rory and our little girl start dating. Rory might be okay but her? Heaven help me, but I think Blake AND my brother BOTH just might make their permanent home on the front porch, each with a rifle close at hand. I may just have to teach her some of my secrets so she can sneak out and have a life once in awhile.

I have a headache now. How do I get myself into these things?

~Ali

Mother’s Day

Blake and his bright ideas. *hmph*

So, he surprises me totally by not only talking to me on Sunday, but by writing me a song. I don’t know how hard he hit his head, or on what, but I’m sure glad it happened. I’m tired of this emotional roller coaster we’ve been living lately. I’m thankful we have this solved because it’s only gonna get more complicated around here with me being pregnant. And naturally cranky.

Poor Blake. :)

It’s not even been twenty-four hours yet, but we are still getting along, despite the kink in his plans yesterday. He came in with Rory after I found my card, with his guitar strapped across his back. We talked, he sang his song, and then we cuddled for a bit. Once he got the bright idea for a bit more… well, that’s where the trouble started.

Blake suddenly got up and went to put Rory down for his nap. Rory’s a decent napper, so it wasn’t too hard to get him to go lie down. Mr. Sensitive then climbs back into bed with me. I knew exactly what he’d come back for but made him admit it to me first. I tend to be a snot that way.

Apparently, he’d forgotten about my broken ribs.

Needless to say, despite all the maneuvering around my knee brace and only being able to open my mouth halfway due to the slight fracture and all the lovely swelling, he’d forgotten that I was in a TON of pain and unable to take more than a shallow breath. So, in deference to all his sincere attempts at making up and being nice, I tried as best I could to give him what he needed, and wanted, and failed miserably. Sorry Charile, no go.

I felt so bad telling him no but I had no choice. When I told him to try me again in two weeks, the look on his face was priceless! I thought he was either going to break down and cry or throttle me just because. Luckily, he did neither. He just pulled himself together and fell to sleep beside me.

At least one of us got some sleep. I can’t get comfortable in any position and since being weaned off my pain meds, I just don’t have any hope. Ah, well… I can sleep when I’m dead. Until then, I have a baby to care for.

Two, truthfully.

I don’t think he’ll wait two weeks before trying again, but hey, it’s a start right? I just hope we’ve gotten off this path we’ve been trudging and onto a new one, finally. We worked too damn hard to get here; I certainly don’t want it to end here.

I’m So Dead

Blake is so not happy with me. He was happy to the extent that I made it home. Alive. But after that? He’s pretty much stopped talking to me.

I guess I can’t blame him.

If anything happens to this baby I’m carrying, I think it’ll be the end of everything. He’s so ticked that he only talks to me if he has to out of fear he’s going to say something to hurt my feelings. Although, none of that stopped him from telling me he was done. With everything. As soon as I’m healthy, he’s gone.

With Rory.

I can’t let this happen. It took me too damn long to find him, and even longer to keep him. What is it about me? Why the heck can’t I keep a relationship together? The last time he told me he was done, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see him again. This time, I know I won’t.

Gods, I’m such a pathetic whiner.

I need to just get off these pain meds and get my head together. I can’t think straight doped up like this. But damn, I hurt! Oh well. I’ll hurt a heck of a lot more if he leaves me and takes that sweet little boy out of my life. I refuse to let this happen.

The question is how do I convince him I meant no harm when he won’t talk to me? Hmm… I’m going to have to think on this one. I do not give up on anything. Least of all him. I’m not about to wait on him to have a change of heart, although it’s a possibility. He loves Rory so much that I find it hard to believe he’d leave me like this. So, maybe there’s still hope.

All I know is I can’t wait on him to change his mind. I need to change it for him.

~Ali

Home

Home. She’s home! Well, she’s been home for a coupla days now anyway, but this has been my first break. She’s on bed rest with a couple broken ribs, a fracture in her jaw, a dislocated knee and a ton of cuts, scrapes and bruises. Poor thing.

And a baby.

Yeah. Forgot to mention that, huh? Well, so did she.

In her defense, she took a test and it was negative, but she was still feeling crappy. I dunno why she didn’t listen to her body and went on this stupid assignment anyway. She coulda gotten herself killed. And our baby. I wanna smack her sometimes. But how can I when she does what she does to keep me safe? Me, Rory, and all the rest of the free world.

I’m in a real mess here. I’m totally ticked off at her for putting herself on the line like this, but then I’m also proud that she’d risk her life to save mine, or that of anyone else. So, whaddaya do? I sure as hell don’t know.

But wow. Another baby? What the hell am I gonna do? They’re not even gonna be eighteen months apart. Holy crap! Rory’s already a handful and he’s only six months old. What’s this one gonna be like? Especially being the spawn of me and Ali? I’m scairt.

I think it’s time to start booking my next tour. A LONG one this time.

Tim’s a-callin’ me. Seems Rory is dumpin’ oatmeal all over the floor. Go figure. He’s never done that to me. Yeah, right. And if you believe that… Oh well. Better go rescue my guitar player from that big, bad ol’ baby boy. But I s’pose I shouldn’t tease him. He has been helpin’ me since Ali can’t. I owe him for that at least.

God, give me strength…

~Blake, Rory, and Tim the Terrified…

Band on the Run

Holy crap! Ali’s only been gone a day and already I’m goin’ off the deep end. Whouda thought a six-month-old kid would be so much trouble? Oh my god. I am so not ready for this.

Two of my band mates, Tim and Randy offered to help me out while she was gone. So has her soon-to-be sister-in-law. But Jo works during the day so it’s been us boys all day. And oh god… Randy’s already bailed on me. The whiner. Gets puked on once and he’s out the door. Freakin’ pansy.

Tim’s been better. But, he’s been hangin’ out with me for a long time now. He says that if I can puke on him and not gross him out, Rory’s not gonna do it. I think he gets diaper duty next. We’ll see what grosses him out.

ALI COME HOME!

Okay. Feel better now. Oh no. He’s crying. Again. Just crawled on over and started tuggin’ at my pant legs. What now? He just ate. He’s doesn’t stink. Think, Blake, THINK!

Huh. Imagine that. He wants to be held. I think he’s tired. I know I am. Couldn’t sleep knowing he was down the hall and I didn’t have Ali to cover my ass. Yeah… put your little head down.

My god. This kid gets into everything! Drooled on my damn guitar. Tried to eat my picks. Did eat my new song. Been pukin’ paper all morning. Dumped the clothes off the bed and onto the floor. Puts every damn thing he finds in his mouth. Why didn’t she warn me?

Awwwwwww…

Shh… he’s sleeping. *beams with fatherly pride* He’s so cuuuute! I guess I can do this after all. Don’t suppose I have much choice, do I?

~Blake