Claire is going to peck out my eyes if I propose to her right now!

“Carter, are you okay?  You look like you’re going to throw up.  I told you no one should ever eat more than six hotdogs.  That’s just asking for pig snout disease or whatever the hell they make those things out of,” Claire scolds as she looked me over worriedly.

“I ate a pig snout?!” Gavin asks elatedly.  “What’s a pig snout?

Claire turns to the other side of her to try and explain to Gavin that hotdogs are, in fact, not made out of dogs, and I take that moment to jump up from my seat, mumbling something about throwing up before I race up the stairs to the concierge desk to cancel my Cleveland Indian’s Proposal Package before I die a slow, horrible eye-pecking death.

4.  He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

“I think he’s going to break up with me.”

Liz’s sigh through the phone line is loud and clear.  I know she's irritated with me.  I am irritated with me.  It's getting to the point where I can’t even stand the sound of my own voice and yet I can’t shut up about this.

“He’s been acting really weird ever since the Indian’s game last week,” I explain as I pull my car into the driveway and let the engine idle.

“Carter isn’t going to break up with you. Will you shut up about this already?  Maybe he’s just stressed about work or the fact that his parents are finally coming for a visit.  Did you try out that move on him I told you about the other night?  The one where you take your fingers and put them in his-”

“LA-LA-LA, I’M NOT LISTENING TO YOU!” I yell over her voice and try to block out the words “prostate” and “gentle massage”.

“Fine, but I’m telling you – it will totally relax him,” she says matter-of-factly.

I turn off the ignition and rested my head against the steering wheel.

“Have you tried, oh I don’t know, asking him what’s wrong?” Liz continues.

“You’re rolling your eyes at me right now, aren’t you?” I reply.  “No, I haven’t asked him.  I’ve done what every other woman in a new relationship does when her boyfriend is acting all twitchy and nervous.  I completely ignore the situation and pretend like it isn’t happening while making a list of possible responses and comebacks I can lob at him when he finally decides to give me the brush-off.  I am NOT going to be one of those people who clam up when he tells me, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ and then six hours later when I’m sitting alone in the dark with a bottle of vodka scream, ‘OH IT’S TOTALLY YOU AND YOUR SMALL PENIS!’.  I’m going to have viable retorts ready to go so I don’t come up with them later when I’m drunk and alone, and they do no one any good.”

I sit back in my seat and stare at the front door of the house I now live in with Carter.  The white, three bedroom ranch with black shutters is nestled in a lush cluster of pine trees.  I love this house.  But more importantly, I love the two men inside of it.  My heart literally hurts to think about not being with Carter.

“Carter doesn’t have a small penis, by the way,” I say, breaking the silence.

“So you’ve told me.  Several times,” Liz deadpans.

“I’m sorry I keep bugging you about this.”

“Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.  Just talk to him about it.  You can thank me for my sage advice by remembering that, as my maid of honor, you are required to keep any and all passé bachelorette party activities as far away from me as possible this weekend,” Liz reminds me.

Liz and Jim’s wedding date is fast approaching.  Being as far removed from a typical bride as possible, Liz had vetoed a traditional bachelorette party and instead decided it would just be one big co-ed night out.  Maybe that’s what Carter and I need - a night out with friends without any work or parenting responsibilities.  I thank Liz again and quickly hang up the phone so I can go in the house and greet my boys.

~

“I’m home!” I yell as I close the front door behind me and set my purse down on the table next to it.

A flash of color darts into the room and barrels into me.

“Mommy’s home!” Gavin cheers as I pick him up and start walking further into the house.

“Where’s Daddy?” I ask as I rub his back while he clings to me.

“He’s gettin’ ready for work.”

I walk into the bedroom and set him down on top of the bed, bouncing onto the mattress next to him.  Gavin stands up and starts jumping up and down and singing.

“Woke up dis mornin’, got myself a gun!”

Before I can tell him to stop, Carter walks out of the bathroom, popping his head through the neck of a tee shirt and then pulling the material the rest of the way down over his stomach.

“Hey, baby,” he greets me with a smile as he makes his way over to the bed, leans over, and gives me a kiss.  He lingers against my mouth and rubs his lips back and forth against mine before pulling away so he can look at me.

“Did you let our son watch 'The Sopranos' again today? I ask him with a raise of my eyebrows.

Carter laughs nervously and backs away. “No, why would you think that?”

Gavin stops bouncing on the bed and looks at Carter.

“Yes you did, Daddy.  Don’t you wemember?  Big Pussy cried and you called him a pansy-ass,” he says earnestly.

I look at Carter pointedly.

“And tell me you didn’t take him out in public today with that shirt on.”

We both look at Gavin’s shirt that boldly states, “They shake me.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny those rumors,” Carter says as he sits down next to me on the bed so he can put his shoes on.  “Let’s just say we had lunch with Uncle Drew, and if I didn’t put the new shirt on Gavin that he bought him, there would have been a scene.”

“I’m pretty sure Gavin would have been fine if you refrained from putting him in that shirt,” I tell him.

“I’m not talking about Gavin.  Have you met Drew?”

Gavin takes a leap off of the bed and runs out of the room.  I scoot closer to Carter and rest my head on his shoulder.  He lifts one arm and wraps it around my shoulder, pulling me against his side.  He seems okay right now, so I figure there is no need to ruin the moment and ask him what his problem has been the past few days and if he still loves me.

“Sometimes I really hate that you work nights,” I tell him softly, wrapping my arms around his waist.

He turns and kisses me, easing both of us back onto the bed so we are laying in a tangle of legs and arms.

“You don’t have to lie. I know you like the peace and quiet during the week and having control over the remote,” he says with a smile as he brushes a piece of hair out of my eyes.

“You’re right, I do.  But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.  It just means 'The Real Housewives of Orange County' can be watched without eye rolls and sarcastic comments.  If anyone is going to judge Gretchen and Slade for their poor life choices it will be me,” I explain.

“Oh, that reminds me.  I’ve got something for you,” he says as he pulled his arms out from around me and rolls onto his back so he can dig into the pocket of his jeans.

“Are you going to tell me that you have a present in your pants for me?  Because I’ve got to tell you, I’ve been to that pants party a bunch of times.  I almost got a concussion last time.”

Carter digs deeper into his pocket and huffs at me.

“It is not my fault I was unprepared for road-head.  I thought you weren’t feeling good and were just going to put your head down in my lap.  When a man’s penis suddenly makes an appearance in a moving vehicle on a Saturday night, an involuntary hip thrust WILL HAPPEN.”

He finally pulls his hand out of his pocket and holds it out to me, palm up.

“This is your present,” he says to me.