Jessica Hildrum

Found my dancing feet.

I am certainly not known for my grace, actually an ex boyfriend once told me that I walk like a hippo, at the time I was about 20kgs lighter than I am now, there really was a time when I was truly skinny.. Aaah the lost beauty of youth.. but he was referring to the fact that I tend to stomp around and can be heard approaching even by the deaf, you know the reverberations through the concrete. So it goes without saying that I am not very good at sneaking up on people, what with the heavy steps and giggling thus sealing my fate to never be a ninja. Anyway, the point is that knowing my limitations I have not wanted to dance fearful of the pointing and laughing that surely would ensue.

But I guess age has kicked in and I no longer care about the pointing, the laughing though is still kind of hard but I just ingnore it and shake my booty with abandon and joy, enjoying that base drum pounding through me.

I am even thinking that I might want to join a class or something, the problem is finding one for the coordination challenged.

So if you see some wild chick on the dance floor rockin’ out with a big smile and a bit clumsy and uncoordinated, that just might be me – come on over and dance with me, I promise to not poke your eye out, at least not on purpose.

The train has left the station

Even though the choice has been mine, and I have been adamant, once that train leaves the station and the opportunity is lost, does the consequence truly become clear.  I know this is what I have wanted all along and should be grateful that it is resolving itself.  But now, I am of course worried that I may have misjudged.  But this time, for once, I am going to leave well alone.

Standing firm, waving sadly and reluctantly.

I miss my kid

I just spent a great evening with my ex and his older brother, sister and her husband.  They are forever my family and I am grateful that this is the case.

But, leaving Kev tonight was really really hard, he didn’t want to let me go, holding me tightly, telling me that he misses me already.  I sung his favorite songs, hugged and kissed him, told him how proud I am of him and how much I love him.  But, the door closing behind me, walking to my car, every step taking me away from him, every step breaking my heart.  All I want is to run back, and lie next to him and watch him sleep, listen to the sound of him breathing.

It is so hard to leave him, and while I enjoy my grown-up time, I ache.  Sometimes, I swear the umbilical is still connected, I feel this longng and connection to him, pulling me.. and I am not with him.

I swore I would never get divorced, never let my children experience what I did, and yet, here we are, 3 years after I left my marriage, apart, shared custody and I know that we have made the best out of this situation.   I know of no others who despite divorce have maintained their friendship, who love and respect eachother as much as my ex and I do.

But I wish this wasn’t his reality, I really wanted different for him.  I am so sorry baby.

I am so lucky to have Kevin in my life, to be the mother of such a wonderful kid, it is truly the best part of my life.

I always wanted high cheekbones

I have always dreamt of having beautiful high cheekbones, that Sophia Loren look, slender nose, high cheekbones, big eyes…

OMG! It's Sophia Loren!! Kinda, sorta

But then again I have, of course, also dreamt of waking up in the morning and finding I had morphed into Cindy Crawford (kafka eat your heart out).

Somehow I do not think I would be so very repulsed to that particular awakening.  Though honestly and between us seeing as I am not her and unfortunately there is not much chance of the painless morphing, the spiteful part of me does wish she would have the true Kafka experience – Cindy may you awake and find yourself a gigantic roach! MUAHAHAHA.

And while I may never wake up and find myself to be that leggy blond (you remember the type: perfect – life is easy – always gets the guy – nordic beauty), I just might if I suck in my cheeks hard enough and long enough permanently achieve this beautiful sexy look.

I am really bad with names

It is terrible I know, but I am really  bad with names, you could tell me your name fifty times and even though I really like you or even fancy you, your name will simply have evaporated from my brain.

A case in point, when I met my ex-husband and he told me his name, I could not for the life of me understand what he said, and after having asked like twelve times I figured enough was enough I’d just have to fake it.  All I knew was he was really cute, tall, buff and smart albeit really quiet.  I couldn’t tell you when I finally caught and understood his name, it may have been close to eight months later, around the time we were filling in the forms to get married, until then I think “sweetie” and “pufflehead” were probably the main terms of endearment I used and of course “hey, you” always got his attention.

I was out last weekend and met some really cool people although their names escape me entirely, I can remember their occupations, the profound discussions we had, where they live (easy as they were my neighbours) and yet names… gone.  It is kind of embarrassing to have intense deep conversations with people and yet no amount of cajoling, dredging or beating with two-by-four will bring the names to conciousness.

I am sure there is some way to train my brain to remember and that is probably a good idea given that my job is all about creating and maintaining relationships and being able to remember someones name is key.  Calling a customer “hey, you” or “pufflehead” I am sure will not have the same positive effects it did with my ex.  Although, I for one, am always game to try.