The Twilight Double Standard

I was rushing around the house, waving my arms and yelling (in a nice get your butt in gear way) at my entire family. It was Sunday night and I needed everyone in the van. My nauseatingly creative friend, Lil had offered me her homemade stencils to make a Breaking Dawn t-shirt. I had no clue what the stencils even were, but I know Lil and they would have to be genius. The stencils were across town and I needed them.

We all raced down the 215 towards Henderson. I leaned forward in my seat, Twilight sparkle in my twitching eye. Must get the stencils. Nic turned to me and said, "You know, if I was going to wait in line all night with my guy friends to see the latest Megan Fox movie, clad in my homemade t-shirt you would have a fit. There's such a double standard."

I sighed. Edward and I don't have time for this trivial banter.

I tried to explain. It isn't that I lay awake nights thinking in a lusty way about Rob Pattinson. Honestly, Edward could be played by any fool, and I'd feel the same way. It's the romance. It's the story. I get drunk on it over and over. AND I'LL MAKE NO APOLOGIES FOR IT!

Take the old BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. No insult intended on Colin Firth, but he's not the epitome of a manly man. His jaw is not chiseled. He boasts no biceps or washboard abs. But he melts my innards every time I watch it. It's the romance! It's dreamy, so intoxicating. When I see him in that movie...I don't feel about him the way every red-blooded male feels about Megan Fox when she emerges from the explosion in a torn tank top and all dewy with sparkling sweat. It's DIFFERENT! It's the delicious, heady perfume of out -of- this world romance that I love. Not a lusty obsession.

So yes, I will wait in line for hours tonight in my homemade t-shirt. I will cat call and squeal. I will claw the arm next to me when Bella says "I do". And I will come home and crawl in bed with my guy and thank the Lord that he is mine.

It's not a double standard. It's Twilight.

Deep Thoughts in Walgreen's

Nic came home and surveyed the battlefield. Greasy paper plates and empty Cheetos bags littered the kitchen table. My permanent butt print and the butt prints of several of my children still lingered on the couch cushions. The reasons why don't matter, it was just one of those days. He gave me a long hug and told me, "Even perfect mothers need a day off."

He sent me to Walgreen's to buy milk and bread and a flavor of Tylenol that maybe Evan won't barf up on the couch. I gladly went. It was rainy and cool and I wanted to lay on the pavement and smell that wet asphalt smell til I died. I don't know why I love that smell so much.

I had me a time at Walgreen's. The fluorescent lighting was cheerful. I took my sweet time with my undersized shopping cart. I shuffled down each aisle in my sweatpants and contemplated. I knew it was a perfect waste of money, but I couldn't resist picking up a rag mag spewing the sordid details of Justin Bieber - baby daddy.

I tried to think of situations in which turquoise nail polish would work in my life.

I walked by the enemas and was grateful I didn't need one.

I gasped at the audacity of charging five dollars for a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

I lingered in the baby lotions and binkies and felt a tiny pinch in my heart to have another baby.

I smiled down the Christmas aisle and pushed all of the buttons on the annoying singing do-hickeys. My favorite was Miss piggy in a cheap and easy leopard dress singing "Santa Baby".

I scowled at the paperback shelf and wondered how on earth the airbrushed abs and heaving bosom books make the NY times best seller list every darn week? Who reads those?! Gross.

On the way out, there was an Asian man impatiently accosting an arguing couple at the Red Box. He was tired of waiting and wanted the couple to check if the machine had cartoos. Not cartoons, cartoos. The couple had no idea what he was talking about. I'm a mom. I know what he was talking about. He was trying to say Cars 2.

I should have cleared up the matter. But I didn't.

It was just one of those days.