Chapter Four; My Charming Prince comes back for S'more

“Mom! Look at this!” my little girl is swirling and twirling a brightly colored ribbon on a stick we’d bought earlier that day at a community event. “I call this one,” she exclaims, “the hopping rabbit!” her small form jumping up and down rapidly, the eight foot ribbon following her commanding movements, twisting wildly in the evening sunshine filtering into our secluded backyard.

I’m in sweats, starting a fire in our fire pit, still smiling to myself having just left my charming prince on his Harley an hour before.

“You’re really good at that!” I call out to her as she skips and twirls about the lawn.

Just then my blackberry dings. “Someone loves me,” I think to myself.

Nick’s name jumps off the screen.

Butterflies.

Pssssst, how’s the fire?

His words glow in my hand. I reply:

Should be fun, I have a couple girlfriends coming over.

Someone give me a cookie for being the queen of coy, will ya? Because what I really wanted to say was, "Not half as hot as you."

Just call me Lady GaGa for that Poker Face, will ya?

Nick wants to know if I plan to drink too much wine with my friends and I reply saying more like eat too many s'mores.

I don’t suppose you have any extra for me?
Do you? =)

Be still my heart.

I smile.

But I also hesitate. With my little girl here and my big girl, a blossoming and sensitive teen, arriving back home in about an hour, I balk at mixing any man with my maternal duties. Because last time I checked, doing that too soon is the kind of decision that inspires bad country songs.

You see, my mode of operation when it comes to dating is to insulate my children from it at all costs. It’s no secret if mama goes on a date, and they can certainly briefly meet who I am going out with, but I am hesitant to open my children up to situations where they might form a relationship prematurely and subsequently suffer a loss if the guy turns out to be temporary. If I have a break up, the only one I want crying in this house is me. In other words, no dude is going to come over, don a Kiss the Cook apron and wrestle with the dog on the living room floor on my mommy lioness watch.

Well, I don’t have a dog. I have two cats. But that analogy doesn’t apply very gracefully to cats. Besides, I wouldn’t want to date a guy who wrestles with cats.

That sounds creepy.

And painful.

I digress. My point:

This home is my children's sanctuary.

I’ve researched endless books on this topic as, unfortunately, divorce is a stark reality in our culture for many families. There are tons of resources available that I like to call, “How not to F*ck up your kids after a divorce.” Actually, there’s a whole section at Barnes and Noble on it. You can’t miss it, in fact, it’s right next to the massive one titled, “How to undo the mess of your life because your parents F*cked you up after their divorce.”

Like I said. Oodles of resources.

Therefore, my number one rule is no charming prince parade through the old homestead. And no boyfriend bonding with my babies until any relationship I meander into has matured to the six month mark. And well, if my life were an hour glass the amount of time I've spent with Nick so far doesn't even equal six grains of sand.

But how am I going to explain this heavy family boundary via a text message to Nick?

Tell him that I hope s'mores are at the top of his Christmas list this year?

Exactly.

While I discern this dilemma, one of my girlfriends texts me to ask if she can bring a guy buddy with her to my house. And it’s soon obvious I am going to have a fairly good sized group in my backyard of both girls and guys.

Hmmm. “Well, I suppose if Nick is just “one of the crowd” it shouldn’t traumatize my kiddos?” I justify to myself and secretly hope this doesn’t culminate in astronomical therapy bills ten years from now, my child sobbing on a counselor’s couch, “And then, my mom dated this guy on a Harley and my life was never the same!”

I take a deep breath. And text him back:

Yes, come on over!
Plenty of s’mores to go around :)

I then switch gears from over protective parent to vane dating girl and briefly ponder the fact that my ass looks terrible in these sweat pants. Maybe I should change back into my new blue dress?

Oh who am I kidding? I’m not JLo. And this is my patio.

As it turns out, I wouldn’t have had time anyway. Because five minutes later the summer air is filled with the chortling sounds of a motorcycle roaring into my driveway.

Queue James Dean.

My Charming Prince is back for s'more.

*********************

Come back on Thursday for Chapter Five; If I'm Marilyn will you be my Joe Dimaggio?

Also, on Thursday I'll have more details about Dating Land's radio debut. Yes, I just said radio. It's true, I'll be appearing regularly on KFGO to discuss the dating topics introduced on Dating Land so far such as social networking sites, blind dates, infatuation, and dating with children.

Details coming soon! And as always, thank you for reading. Muah! Love ya. ~Audra