The Players

Rose…

That’s me. I’ll be your narrator. I am 38 years, old married, and mother of 3. I like being alone, Adam Ant, being alone with Adam Ant, and convincing myself that my husband looks a lot like John Cusack – my go to man when Adam is occupied. I don’t do anything interesting except blog. I used to tell people I was a writer, but that got difficult to say with a straight face.  Currently I’m into BBC America and water aerobics preparing for 2012 and doing those neck exercises so when the apocalypse comes I at least don’t have a waddle.

Jack…

That’s my husband. He is a private, paranoid man – always worried I’m going to put our pictures and address and bidness “out there.” Whatever. He’s also 38, one of those brilliant type persons, and the father of our three daughters.  If, after a few drinks in a darkened bar you, squint at him from the right angle he looks like John Cusack. A little bit. Kind of. It’s why I slept with him in the first place and then kept coming back for more once I sobered up.  He doesn’t look anything like J.C.  He doesn’t like anything I’ve written about him in humor, so I’ll tell the truth. He’s a giving man who puts up with my b.s. and has given me a life that I did not expect to have.  He’s truly one of the best people I know and I don’t show him the love he deserves.  But I still stand by the fact that he looks like John Cusack. Sort of. To me. . I’m sorry I hurt your feelings in an attempt to be “edgy.”  Consider it pre-payback for all those, “There’s mom. Feeding her face,” comments you’ve put on the home videos.

Amy…

Our oldest daughter. She turned 11 12 recently. She’s tall and beautiful and awkward and not sure who she is yet. When she’s not busy worrying about the state of the universe and the poor children who live in the Himalayan mountains, she’s actively dealing with her anger-management issues. She suffers from that pre-pubescent belief that NO ONE EVER IN THE HISTORY OF PEOPLE HAS EVER FELT THE WAY SHE FEELS. WE JUST DON’T UNDERSTAAAAAAAAND HOW BAD IT IS TO BE HER that most of us have suffered from. We love her, but d’yamn she makes us tired.

Amelia…

She is 9 10 and our 2nd born and pretty much does everything well. Smart, tall, slender, athletic, popular. Your basic nightmare of a closely born sibling to have. She has yet to succumb to the misery that engulfs tweeners, but we’re not holding our collective breath. She couldn’t find a purple elephant in an otherwise empty white room and she often forgets that other people need to be… uh… you know… considered as she lives her charmed little life. She, too, makes us tired.

Olivia…

Our youngest at 3 years old. She is our common denominator and very much spoiled and loved.  Emotional and loving like her oldest sister, a social go getter like her other sister, non-stop movement and chatter-er like the squirrel I must have made love to almost 4 years ago. 

BFF Glenda…

My best friend forevah! We’ve been friends for almost 23 years. Christ we’re old.