A week of ponytails or… My pirate wields a big ass hose

My new job is kicking me around something fierce. Don’t get me wrong, I love it. And all the reasons why are another post all together, but the hours are fierce. Considering I spent the last two years either in bed grieving or meandering about the Manor grounds, the transition into actually working 5 days a week is pretty harsh. Some days I can handle it all with a touch of class, coaxing my kids gently out of bed to a healthy breakfast of made-from-scratch pancakes and bacon with a side of mint tea and honey, while I stand at the ready clad in full make up and clean clothes. Other mornings they wonder why all I have to offer is a cup of luke warm coffee and the order for them to make their own damn toast as I flounder about in my pajamas looking for a clean pair of underwear. This week has been more of the latter rather former; the kids are tired of being forced to buy hot lunches and not too happy about their lack of clean socks. Add to it that I haven’t showered in a few days and my hair has gotten progressively scarier and greasier and my make-up is now non-existent and I notice they are giving me more and more space in the mornings. Ungrateful little effers. It is only Wednesday.
Normally I would call this whole week a complete loss: the knock off J. Lo yoga pants are a daily staple, despite the fact that I sat in somebody’s applesauce yesterday. My normally curly hair has been in a ponytail so much that it has become straight and quite manageable after two days of no time for showers. And today I found a hard, perfectly preserved Hostess cupcake on the floor of my car and fought off the urge to pop it in the microwave to soften if for a quick snack. This morning I sat at the preschool thinking of all this when suddenly a man walked in to the building. A real man. A grown man with a broad chest and small hips. I had forgotten that it was firefighter week. Oh yeah, baby. Firefighters!
At first I was a bit disappointed by this one. He wasn’t dripping sweat or oozing man hormones. He sat down at circle time and showed the kids his big, mighty boots and his heavy man-coat and hat. Then he took us all for a ride in his massive fire truck while he explained all about the tools and hoses on the giant machine. After two trips of kids we returned to the classroom where he proceeded to dress up in his fireman costume, and that is when I realized he was a dream come true. (I am no stranger to fantasies, I have a particular idea or two of what I might fancy if a man were to trip across my threshold and feel so inclined as to stay for a lemonade or two. Granted this is mostly in my mind where I need not actually make conversation or engage in reality.) This fellow who was before simply a very fit man in a navy blue t-shirt morphed into a sexy god right there in the preschool classroom (Yes, I am aware of the taboo of mixing the words sex and preschool all in one sentence.). Once he donned the puffy firefighter pants, with just a tinge of smokey adventure thrown in for fun, I was gone. He was a bit of Jude Law receding hairline mixed in with fun time romp on the floor excitement. And then? When he slipped on his coat, helmet and gloves and showed how he crawled across the floor in a real live fire? I was ready to jump up and slip a dollar bill in his protective clad apparel. Only I couldn’t because I had a four year-old perched on my lap cheering him on -only for an entirely different reason.
So his name is Jake. I am pretty sure by his hairline that he is not in his 20′s. He is damn dreamy and prone to heroism. I can’t see us dating, I have three kids and I live with my mom, nothing sexy there. He obviously lives in reality where he rescues people from burning buildings. But it is good fun for thought.