TexasEscapes.comWe Take Texas Personally
A Texas Travel, History & Architecture Magazine
SITE MAP : : NEW : : RESERVATIONS : : TEXAS TOWNS A-Z : : FEATURES : : COLUMNS : ::ARCHITECTURE : : IMAGES
HOME
SEARCH SITE
RESERVATIONS
Hotels
Cars
Air
USA
World
Cruises
TEXAS TRAVEL
TOWNS A to Z
Towns by Region
Ghost Towns
TRIPS :
State Parks
Rivers
Lakes
Drives
Maps
LODGING
TEXAS
FORUM
FEATURES :
Ghosts
People
Historic Trees
Cemeteries
ARCHITECTURE :
Courthouses
Jails
Bridges
Theaters
Churches
Gas Stations
Water Towers
Monuments/Statues
Schoolhouses
Post Offices
Depots
IMAGES :
Old Neon
Murals
Signs
BOOKS
COLUMNS
TE Site
Site Information
Recommend Us
Newsletter
About Us
Contact TE
 
 Texas : Features : Columns : "The Girl Detective's Theory of Everything"
Love is in the Hair
by Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal

Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal
Times have changed at our house, as times are wont to do. In the early years of our marriage, romance was a challenge. Time was a factor. We both worked full time and divided the rest of our time up toting the kids to t-ball practice, marching band practice, brownies, cub scouts, birthday parties and science fairs. I estimate that between the four of them, my children have attended approximately 10,024 birthday parties. There was homework to help with and bedtime stories to read. There were kite strings to untangle and broken hearts to console. There was bubble gum in somebodyís hair at least once a month. There were goldfish funerals to cater and picnic lunches to pack for the long, dangerous trek to the neighborhood gazebo six blocks away. Shoes to buy, shoes to find, shoes to tie. I used to pray for the day that everyone would be able to put on their own shoes unassisted and take care of all their own toileting needs.

Privacy was a factor. Once, in an act of sheer desperation, we sprinkled chocolate chips all over the living room carpet and hid in the garage for five uninterrupted minutes of romantic bliss. Well, "bliss" might not be the word. We crouched at the door on alert, our bodies thrumming with tension, listening for somebody coming. All we could hear were muffled snorts and grunts. We began to relax. I sighed and turned to Mike. Mike sighed and turned to me, opening his arms. I moved into his embrace eagerly. He wrapped his strong arms around me, murmuring endearments into my ear. Well, at first I thought they were endearments. It sounded friendly, in a way. Something like, "Phlltt. Phltt." I was starved for adult attention, starved for some physical contact that did not involve any grape jelly anywhere on either participant. If "Phltt. Phltt." was what I was offered, I was prepared to accept it. "Liz," Michael moaned, pulling away from me.

"Michael, my darling," I replied, trying to sound swept away, while still keeping an ear cocked for the sound of little feet on the steps.

"My gum . . ."

"Uh, huh?" I answered wondering if that was the creak of the screen door Iíd heard.

"Iím so sorry, but I think I got my gum in your hair."

It was just about then that Tootie crashed through the door shouting, "Mama, Mama! I told Davey I got the area near the T.V. and he keeps sneaking over there. Sarah has twelve chocolate chips and I only have ten and she wonít share and I think Andy is coughing up a hairball." So much for privacy. So much for love. So much for a gum-free month.


Things are much different now and if we had only known that they would come so soon, we might not have wasted so much time longing for these relatively child-free days. Now we can enjoy each otherís company all we want. We used to dream of spending long Saturday mornings nestled together in bed, reading the paper and discussing world events. Enjoying one anotherís, um, intellect and stuff. Nowadays, we can spend all the time in the world nestled anywhere we care to nestle as long as we keep out of the kidsí hair.

"Hey!" tap-tap-tap, "Whacha doiní in there? Can I come in? I just want to show you something I made. Hey!" tap-tap-tap, "Can I just come in and show you one thing?"

"I just need five minutes alone! Is that too much to ask? Go watch T.V. for a few minutes, Mom, and when I come out Iíll find you a project."

We can have all the romantic, candle lit dinners we want these days, but theyíre not as much fun as we remembered from our dating days. We try to chat a little, compliment each other, look longingly into each otherís eyes. Itís either love or myopia, but who wants to split hairs on a special night like this? Our dinner comes and there is nothing on either plate that could be described as "junior" or "fun-fabulous" or "Ker-A-Zee!" It is only dinner. I reach my hand out toward Michaelís side of the table, looking at his dear face. "Liz! No! Keep your hands on your side of the table!"

"Ah, come on Mike! Just this once. Just for old timeís sake. Please?" And because he loves me still, because we have raised children together and been through good times and bad together, Michael understands. He sighs and relents. Just this once, he lets me cut up his meat for him. For old timeís sake. And in an act of love and understanding, he reaches out toward me gently, and spills his milk.
© Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal
"The Girl Detective's Theory of Everything" - December 15, 2004 Column
Romantic Getaway Packages

Shop at Amazon.com!
HOME
Privacy Statement | Disclaimer
Website Content Copyright ©1998-2004. Texas Escapes - Blueprints For Travel, LLC. All Rights Reserved
This page last modified: December 15, 2004