Here is my dilemma.  I felt too restless to fall back to sleep yet I couldn’t convince myself to get up and face the day.  Thoughts started maneuvering through my mind.  My husband was out of town.  I immediately started thinking about how much I missed him.  He had been gone for one night; (I know, I know, it was only a night).  He  would be back later in the afternoon so I started thinking about how excited I was to see him.

I thought of how some loved to have their husbands gone and have a free night and how much I didn’t.  I also thought about the humor in the fact that he had been gone for just one night and I had talked to him approximately four times during that time.  I was waiting for him to call at any moment.

Waiting for his call,  I addressed my dilemma of not wanting to sleep but not wanting to get out of bed.  I thought of how lucky I was to have a husband that I loved and who loved me in return, not having to wonder what he was doing while away or be jealous.  This in turn led my thoughts to the ten hours I hadn’t heard from him and to wonder what he did in those hours.  Of course, the fact that he may have been sleeping never crossed my mind.

Then came the rushing thoughts of “horny out-of-town at a conference women flirting with him in some hotel bar” visions.  I found myself getting jealous. And, the more I got jealous the more thoughts flooded in and soon I had my husband in a full blown sex scene in some random hotel room with some random woman.  I had myself in a totally crazy mindset.

If you knew my husband and the loving, trusting relationship we share you would realize how absurdly crazy this was and how I was allowing my own insecurities and negativity take over my thought process.

I realized it was time to get up and wondered what I should wear to work.  I stood looking in my closet insisting I had nothing to wear.  Everything was drab and ugly.  I was fat, ugly and tired.  I didn’t care what I looked like or what others thought I looked like.  What did it matter?

I had my husband in an imaginary wild sex scene and I was at home trying to cover up cellulite.  I tried on numerous clothes which blew the excuse that I had nothing to wear.  I started with the idea of “throwing something on” because it was a lost cause.  After three or four tries of “throwing something on” I settled.  Looking in the mirror I wondered why I didn’t have beautiful skin, why my nose was like it was and why I wasn’t some glamorous beauty that didn’t need makeup.  And, what was with those wrinkles?  I started to throw on some makeup attempting to ease the pain.

By this time I was going through my litany of how it sucked because I couldn’t eat what I wanted.  I was too tired to exercise.  The wind was blowing 45 mph outside and I lived in a god forsaken town that had nothing to offer, not even nice weather.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, it was like I got a swift kick.  Houston, we have a problem.  Think about  those images that have the little red devil sitting on one shoulder and the little angel on the other.  Well, evidently the angel had appeared.

What am I doing?  Quit that whiny blubbering and man up, or as the saying goes, “put on my big girl panties.”  I personally don’t like that big girl part so I am going to say, “put on my sexy panties.”  I looked in the mirror and thought my grandmother had returned from the grave.  I was dressed like she was in her casket and it wasn’t pretty. I went back to my closet and noticed that all my clothes looked different.  They weren’t drab and ugly.  I pulled out a stylish dress, donned some tights and a pair of three inch heeled boots.  (A woman told me once that as long as she was alive big jewelry would be in and I am the same way about spiked heels!)  No one needed to know what was in the package, only that the wrapping looked good.  Whew, I’m back!

Back to the mirror.  Hey, I’m not on the cover of a magazine but with a little airbrushing and a lot of imagination who says I couldn’t be.  Some gel and hairspray made my hair look stylish.  Next was the makeup. Thank goodness I had learned the tricks through the years and knew how to use my assets and diminish my liabilities.  I was a resourceful woman.  Just a few finishing touches not only to enhance what nature had given me but also cover up what nature had given me and I was off to the kitchen.

As I blended my healthy fruit smoothie which would serve as my breakfast I thought, “so what if I choose to eat healthy and feel I can’t eat junk food and fast food like other people.”  I can eat all that other food but really, do I want to?  No!  What works for me is the rewards of attempting, and I emphasize the attempting, to be in shape and at a healthy weight.

As I enjoy my smoothie and flax meal muffin, oh yea, the beauty of that muffin is it only takes a minute to make and actually makes fiber tastes quite good, I started thinking of my psycho jealous session I had earlier.  First of all I trust my husband and knew he wasn’t having some wild sex rendevous.  And really, why wouldn’t some “horny out-of-town at a conference” women flirt with my sexy, handsome husband.  He’s definitely a charismatic guy.

I’ve worked through my negative thoughts.  So what if he flirts a little?  The blood running through his veins is hot enough that he still finds women attractive.  Heck, when he walks into a room it makes me warm so why wouldn’t he do the same to other women?  I’m confident in our marriage and know he’ll be coming home.

However, I do wonder about these thoughts.  Is it me?

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What I never expected was the little green-eyed monster that possessed my son the moment he found out I was dating.  I felt watched, like my son was actually Big Brother.

The few times a date actually progressed to the level of spending time with me and my son, he would turn into Mr. Demando, calling my name every few minutes. Suddenly, my son would need me for this and need me for that.  He would work himself in between my date and I wherever we were sitting.  Countless “Mom, watch!” shouts interrupted conversations.  Suddenly, my own pre-teen son was like an insecure lover.  “Who called you?  Again?!  Where are you going?  When are you going to be home?  Is that what you’re wearing?!”  He would try to tell me what my dating time limits were.

At first I was annoyed and reacted in kind.  Who was this little offspring of mine who thought he could question my private life?  Why was he acting like a little brat?! You’d think he was jealous or someth….ah ha!  He’s JEALOUS!

So I went and did some research. I discovered that it is completely normal for a son to be jealous.  And, what is jealously but categorized FEAR?

To understand his behavior, I tried to look at myself from my son’s perspective.  What my son saw was his nurturer,  provider, kisser of boo-boos and ever-available playmate become distracted, on the phone giggling, on the computer repeating “just a minute” twenty or so times.  He saw her go out dressed in fancy clothes, not shorts and a t-shirt like she used to wear all the time.  He watched her leave at dinner time instead of eat with him and stay gone until after he fell asleep.  Then, he had to meet some guy she brought home and be nice to him, too.  The guy starts spending more and more time with his mom and his mom with him.  Will his mom forget she has a son?  Would this guy take her away from him, too?  I mean, she was mine first!

I began to consider my son’s perspective about my dating life and although I had been trying to keep my dating activities private, I hadn’t been very successful and I decided to limit phone conversations and chatting until after he had gone to sleep or was away from home.

Being an “open and liberal” mother, I also chose to have an age-appropriate conversation with my son about some unavoidable facts:

• I am a single adult woman and I will date single adult men.  I need friends my own age.  When I think he needs to know more, I will tell him.
• Everyone is entitled to privacy, even mothers.   Even though everything is open for discussion, in the end, I am the parent and he is the child and that is that.
• I get two date nights each week.  The rest of the time belongs to my son.
• His opinion is extremely important to me and I will always ask for it and consider it.
• No one will ever, ever come between us.  Ever.
• No one will ever, ever make me love him less.  Ever.

So far, I think it’s working.  The last time I had a date and my son asked me, “Is that what you’re wearing?!” he asked because he thought I should change into something nicer.  He wanted me to dress to impress.  He was right.