A Blog Post About a Blog Post

Spring sports are in full swing and I barely have time for a glass of wine. I know it’s not Monday, but work with me here.

It was ‘I Get a Day Off From Writing and Feeling Pressure to be Funny and Get to Laugh at Your Stories and Share Some Blog Love Monday’.  But nothing was posted. 

That’s ok, because I am afraid. Very afraid.

This week’s guest post is from Dylan. My love. My life partner. The father of my children. The only man that has ever kept me on my toes. Ok, I am totally sucking up because I think it has potential to be an expose worthy for Perez Hilton.

Excited?

Well, simmer down. In true Dylan fashion he is not done yet.

Not done yet, just like the gate to the fence that took three weekends in a row to complete. Yes, just the gate part. After three wasted weekends, four fence kits and eight full-grown-man temper tantrums, I finally bribed a neighbor to wander over with a beer and subtly ask Dylan if “he needed a hand”.

Not done yet, just like the shelves in my garage. FYI there are no shelves. Shit is just piled on the floor. I’m running out of room for empties. 

Not done yet,  just like the broken closet doors from the trolls bedrooms. They still sit against a wall in the storage room. The storage room that is also shelf-less.

Not done yet, just like the guitar he is going to learn how to play. That he bought a stand AND a travel case for. It is also in the storage room. I think it’s under the broken closet doors. One day he will travel the world, performing at sold out concerts. Whew, good thing he has a travel bagel eh? 

It sure will come in handy…one day.

After 14 years together I have learned that Dylan “sometimes” procrastinates and is always late. He comes by it honestly; it is in his genes. His parents couldn’t decide on a name for him…FOR TWO FREAKING MONTHS!!!! His nickname was Sue for the first 60 days of his life. They didn’t register him with the government until he was 5 years old. I shit you not; he didn’t actually exist until he needed to go to school!!

His brothers were over an hour late for our wedding (and they had the rings) because they made a wrong turn and forgot to write down the name and address of the Church. No one had cell phones, so we prayed and waited as I held down vomit. Dylan was cool as a cucumber. Asshole. In hindsight I was 18 weeks pregnant…so perhaps that explains the barfy bit.

Please remember how Type ‘A’ I am. I love lists. I love completing a task to give myself a gold star and check mark. If I am not 15 minutes early for anything and everything, you mine as well assume me dead on the side of the road.  

If Dylan is early to anything, people applause and give him a standing ovation.

God clearly has a sense of humour.

Dylan has taught me to relax. He gives me balance. Although our relationship hit the fastback as his boys are Olympic swimmers and my eggs are greedy over-achievers, I knew from the first moment I met him he was the one.  I know that sounds cheesy, but other boyfriends were met with a fate worse than death if they so much as blinked funny. With Dylan, I wanted to figure out a way to live with the quirks and chronic lateness.

Perhaps my inaugural lesson for being late was…well, being 'late'.
Well played Dylan, well played.

His blog post is coming. Be patient. If I can learn to be, so can you.

By the way, I peaked at what he is writing. The control freak in me will be editing. I promise I won’t touch the juicy stuff, just the grammar and sentence structure. He is an amazing storyteller, but when ones first written language is French, one clearly needs some help in this department. 

Be warned Dylan: Although you may think you can get a laugh by telling the world what its like to live with me. The people that laugh cannot withhold what I can.

Choose wisely.

Xo J