Baby Steps

Greetings from Haddonfield, New Jersey :)

It's our first morning in our new home and after seeing all the wonderful well wishes and inquiries about when (and if) I'd be back, I wanted to make a quick (and hopefully painless; the meds are still making my emotions very shaky) blog post about how things are going in our lives. I know Pheebs has been handling the duties for the past few weeks by herself and I just want to thank her for stepping up and giving me the time that I needed to get things under control and to clear some of the clutter that's crowding my plate. As you all know, it has been a crazy busy off season for our family. And a rather difficult one as far as decisions regarding our future go. Between Max's decision to accept the Flyers' offer and my illness ( not to mention time spent in the hospital, various treatments, the road to recovery and the realization that I will be battling this disease for the rest of my life), I haven't had much time to myself. But I wanted everyone to know that I really appreciate the lovely messages, emails, wall posts on facebook and the letters and gifts that had been left at the old house in Pittsburgh and the one in St Bruno.

At this time, I also want to express my sincere gratitude to all of you for respecting our privacy during a rather difficult and frightening time. You allowed us the time to adjust to the news of my illness and for me to enter into the proper treatment and in turn, gave us the opportunity to bond in a way our tiny little family had never gotten a chance to. The life of an athlete or that of his spouse is not always an easy one. Prolonged absences due to road trips, often long and painful recoveries from various injuries, practices, games and charitable events that find you neglecting your loved ones. While I was sick, Max and I were able to spend time together that his otherwise hectic schedule would never have permitted. We have all of you to thank for that. If it wasn't for you -and in a rather bizarre way, the strange twist of fate that had me getting ill in the first place- we never would have had the quality time that we got to enjoy. God bless all of you for giving us that and for helping us bond and heal and rediscover each other.

On a hockey related note: Max's decision to accept the offer from Philadelphia was not an easy one to make. Please know that he did it with a heavy heart and with the best interests of his family in mind. Having to leave behind the city that he considered a second home and the fans that loved him (and he loved -and still loves- in return) was – IS- very hard on him. He had the time of his life in Pittsburgh and will never, ever forget any of you. I know that he touched many people through his charitable endeavours and his warm, welcoming and often goofy personality. In the end, his decision was based solely on the stability that would be provided to his family. It wasn't done to hurt or betray anyone. This is...in harsh reality...a business. It doesn't mean that memories are erased or he forgets everything he achieved while with the Penguins or the friends that he made. I can assure you that Max will never, ever forget. Despite what people may think of him, he's a very sensitive and caring man and will carry all of you in his heart forever. The hate...while somewhat understandable...is a tough pill to swallow.

Regardless of my own reservations and my initial anger revolving around the choice, Max is my husband. My best friend. My confidant. The father of my child and all my future children. My lover. And while I will keep things civil out of respect for him, I can't help but lash out. I understand that it seems as if he somehow betrayed the city of Pittsburgh. That it's hard to accept that he signed with the 'mortal enemy'. Hell, even I had a hard time wrapping my head around it. But what's done is done. For reasons that most of you will probably never understand. What angers me is that half of the haters didn't even want him as a Penguin. All I ever read from these bunch of wankers was how useless he was. How he wasn't serving a purpose. That he wasn't the same after his injury and how he was nothing but a waste of cap space. So to see them burning his jersey and to hear the things they are saying about not only him, but our child...well needless to say, I'm a little pissed. So I am coming on this very public forum and challenging you assholes to 'man up'. Come on here and have a go at me. Try and justify the death threats and the disgusting things you've said about not only my husband, but my son as well.

I have promised myself...and my loved ones...that I will no longer live my life holding grudges. That I will no longer be bitter or angry about mistakes I've made or the wrongs that have been levelled against me. Life is too short to hate. Too precious to waste on people that don't matter.

While nervous and scared about this new journey, I am looking forward to walking this path with the love of my life. And I am excited to see where this road leads us.

I hope that you...the fans who have stuck by Max and supported us...stick around for the ride.

Love life. Be gentle.

Sloan.

******

Satisfied with my first entry after my month long hiatus, I save and upload my post and then lean back in my chair with a long, content sigh. I had actually missed writing for the blog that Pheebs and I have co-owned since shortly after the Penguins' 2009 Stanley Cup win. Back then we'd named it 'Sugar and Spice'; Phoebe brought the sass and the 'take no shit' attitude and I brought the calmer, more rational aspect to things. Within the last year, I think I've become the bitch out of the two of us. People either love me or hate me. There's no in between. They either adore the fact that I'm so brutally honest about every aspect of my life with Max or they can't stand the fact that I'm so 'out there' with things. I have nothing to hide from people. There's nothing I can't tell anyone that hasn't been leaked by some member of the media. And long ago I'd gotten fed up of being everyone's favourite doormat.

Although there's times where our bluntness (and our tendency to tell of fans, NHL players and fellow WAGs) has gotten us in hot water with our 'not so better halves' as Pheebs calls them.

“Tough titty says the kitty but the milk's still good,” I mumble my usual retort to Max's complaining and reach for the now lukewarm mug of tea that rests next to my lap top.

I'd been up at the crack of dawn; nauseated from the medications I'd taken the night before. Despite my exhaustion, I'd been anxious for a little quiet time. Normally I'd just stay in bed; snuggled up to my man and relaxing in the warmth that radiates from his body and in the familiar smell that clings to his skin. And then when the baby awakens, bitch and moan about being exhausted and how the meds make me sick to my tummy until I drive Max crazy enough to force him out of bed and tend to things on his own. This morning I'd been looking forward to a little me time; creeping out of bed just as the sun was beginning to rise and making myself a massive mug of tea before grabbing my laptop and heading out onto the back deck. Mornings to myself don't come very often; normally I'm the first up and I have coffee and breakfast already started before Max even manages to pry himself out from between the sheets. But the gorgeous summer morning had been impossible to resist. The horizon painted a brilliant gold, a soft breeze tousling the trees and the birds serenading me. It gave me time to sit back and relax and not only do up my blog post, but to survey my surroundings and count my blessings. And to plot out all the things I have planned for our home.

Our home. It sounds so good to be able to say that. After talking about it for a couple of years, we've finally gotten there. Secure enough to set down roots and to have a place where we can raise a family. Now whether or not our family will grow in members is still up in the air. I don't think we're quite there yet. We've put things behind us and moved on, but I don't think either of us are ready to add another baby to the mix.

“You left me alone,” Max's voice -low and gravelly from sleep- nearly causes me to jump clear out of my son. “I hate being left alone.”

“Oh cry me a river,” I nip playfully at his forearm as he curls it around my neck. “How many nights have I been left alone?”

“Nature of the beast. Part of the job. I have a reason to be gone. You have no reason to be leaving me all by my lonesome.”

“You are such a girl,” I tease, as I rest my head back against his stomach; sticking my tongue out as I glance up at him. “You're so girly, I'll be coming home one night to find you in my favourite dress.”

He gives a derisive snort and drops a kiss on my forehead. “I wear the pants in this family.”

“You wish! I just let you think you. Everyone knows who is really in charge. Me.”

“Delusional,” he pecks the tip of my nose. “You're delusional.”

“I speak the truth and nothing but,” I retort, slapping him hard on the ass as he heads for the chair across the table. “What are you doing awake? What happened to your 'I'm going to sleep until noon' announcement you made last night?”

“I woke up and you were gone. I don't like an empty bed.”

“Wow,” I snicker and place my feet in his lap. “You really are a girl.”

He rolls his eyes dramatically and then yelps when I dig my toes into his crotch. “Easy, Mrs Talbot. Easy. You want more kids, don't you?”

“That's still up for debate. Don't you think one spawn of Satan is enough?”

“Hardly. More like half a dozen.”

“Now who's delusional? Are you going to find a second wife to give you those five kids?”

“If I have to,” he counters, and cups a hand over his package to fend off the kick I level at it. “How many times do we have to go through this? There's only you, Sloan. It'll always be only you. I was only joking when I said I was going to exchange you for two twenty year olds when you turned forty.”

“Well I wasn't joking when I threatened to cut your dick off,” I retort.

“You'd suffer more than I would.”

He's probably right. But I wouldn't dare tell him that. If there's one thing that we've always been good at...even during the darkest and most trying days of our marriage...it's sex. Sometimes, there's even been times where I've wondered if it's the only thing we truly have in common.

“What are you doing up?” he asks, and presses his thumbs into the bottoms of my feet; massaging in a firm, circular motion that feels like heaven. “What happened to all those threats about making me get up with the baby every morning for the rest of my natural born life?”

“It was too beautiful of a morning to pass up. Thought I'd come out here and watch the sun come up.”

“You're supposed to be getting as much sleep as you can,” he reminds me. “You're still sick.”

“I'm feeling much better,” I argue.

“Still sick,” he insists.

“I'm always going to be sick, Max. It's never going to go away. I'm going to have this for the rest of my life. How many times have we had this conversation? How many times have we...?”

“I know what's wrong with you, Sloan. I don't need to be reminded every waking moment. Let's just take things one day at a time, okay? Can we do that? Stop worrying so much about the future and just concentrate on the here and now? I already had one scare with you. I already spent tons of time doing nothing but worrying myself sick and giving myself anxiety whenever I thought about life without you.”

“So I really am more than just a maid and the person who gave birth to your kid,” I tease. “There really is more to me than just being the person you can come home to after a couple weeks away and have sex with.”

“Yeah...there is,” he grumpily agrees. “I also really like how you cook my food and do my laundry and remember to pick my clothes up at the dry cleaners. Are you being serious right now?”

“You're like a bear with a sore asshole in the morning,” I complain. “You should come with a warning. No talking to you or trying to goof around when you first get up. Avoid all contact for at least three hours. Or at least until you've had your cage cleaned and been fed.”

“You know...” he sighs. “...if I didn't love you as much as I do...”

“It's a blessing and a curse, Maxime. A blessing and a curse. I learned that a long time ago. You're not exactly an easy person to love, you know.”

“What's that supposed to mean? What do you mean I'm not an easy person to love? What...?”

“It means you're an enormous pain in the ass and you drive me insane ninety percent of the time. But you're my enormous pain in the ass and despite all your bullshit...” I shrug. “...well despite all your bullshit, I think I'll keep you.”

“Well aren't you just so generous. I have a place to live for at least another six months. Would you stop riding my ass so early in the morning? Can't you just cut me some slack here? Go easy on me. I can't take much more.”

“My father warned you I'd give you grey hair,” I chide. “Bet you're regretting putting a ring on it, huh?”

“Never,” he declares. “Ever. Now quit being such an annoying bitch.”

“Asshole,” I grumble, but shoot a wink across the table.

Truth of the matter is, I'd learned during the time I'd been sick that despite all of his faults and all of the mistakes he'd made, Max isn't really that bad of a person. He's nowhere near the level of douche bag that I always paint him out to be when I'm angry or hurt. And I'd also been reminded...on those nights where I'd been so sick from treatments and he'd crawl into my hospital bed and wrap his arms around me and reassure me that everything was going to be okay...that it was his flaws that had made me fall in love with him in the first place. I'd long ago accepted that Max wasn't perfect. And the best part of him is that he doesn't expect me to be either.

“So...” I approach the next subject cautiously. “...I made a blog post this morning.”

“Yeah?” he's stone faced. For now, at least. “Why'd you do that?”

“Because I wanted to. Because I haven't written anything in more than a month and people were starting to miss me and were always asking about when I was going to come back and...”

“Don't they think you have more important things to do? Like a husband at home and a kid to raise and...”

“Pheebs has all those things too,” I point out. “She still finds the time to work on the blog. Not to mention she works out of the house and...”

“That's Phoebe. Not you,” he interjects. “Jordan doesn't give a rat's ass what she does. He's just counting his lucky stars that he even managed to get her to agree to marry him and have kids in the first place. Now he'll spend the rest of his life bending over backwards and kissing her ass just to keep her. No woman is worth that trouble.”

“I'm not worth that trouble?” I try not to let the hurt creep into my voice. “You wouldn't do whatever you had to to keep me around?”

“You and Phoebe are two totally different people. You practically didn't need a gun held to your head to agree to get married and start a family. You wanted to do those things. No one had to get down on their hands and knees and beg you to do them.”

“But you would, right? If it came down to it? You would do whatever you had to do to keep me, right?”

“It isn't ever going to come to that because you're not high maintenance like she is.”

I frown. “I am really torn between wanting to kick you in the balls and punching you in the face.”

“What do you want me to say, Sloan? You're not like Phoebe. You won't ever put me in that position. So why...?”

“But what if I did. Hypothetically speaking. What if something happened where you had to fight to keep me? You would do it, right?”

“Are you really that self conscious that you need to ask me that? Do you really doubt me that much that...?”

“Right?” I press.

His tone softens and the storm that had been brewing in his normally vibrant blue eyes finally lifts. “Of course I would, Sloan. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. For our family. I was just saying that you wouldn't ever put me in that kind of position. Not that I wouldn't fight for you if I had to. You should know me better than that.”

I want to tell him that there's times where I barely know him any more. Where I wait for days and weeks on end for the old Max to resurface.

“But this whole stupid blog thing...”

“It's not a stupid blog,” I argue. “I enjoy doing it. It makes me happy. It's an escape. Sometimes I need to get away from doing nothing but being a wife and a mother.”

“Can't you find something else to do? Find another hobby? Or volunteer or something? Once you stopped writing I thought it was for good. I thought...”

“It was a hiatus, Max. I told you that. I told you that I was just taking some time off and that once we were settled...”

“We're hardly settled, Sloan. We just moved into this place. In a new city. There's still lots of settling to do, don't you think?”

“I can do both. I can do everything I want to do around here and take care of Max and find time to write. I enjoy doing it, okay? It's fun to me. And people really like my posts.”

“I just thought that once we moved here it would be the end of it. I'm not part of the Penguins anymore. You were writing that when Jordan and I still played together. Now we're on separate teams. Don't you think it's going to be weird?”

“It's only as weird as you want to make it. I don't see what the big deal is. Why are you turning this into a big old thing?”

“I just thought that we were starting a new life here,” he says with a shrug. “I thought when we left Pittsburgh we were leaving everything behind.”

“Are you leaving everything behind Max? Your foundation is still there. You still have tons of ties to the city. You've got friends there still. Are you leaving them behind? Jordan and Sid? TK? Are they not your friends anymore? Is Flower not your friend anymore?”

“It's totally different. They were my friends for a long time. My ties and your ties aren't the same thing.”

“That's fucking horseshit,” I snarl. “You know what this is about? This is about Phoebe. You just don't want me being close to her any more because you've got this huge pickle up your ass when it comes to her.”

“She's always sticking her nose in our business,” he reasons. “Always talking shit about me to you and telling you how you'd be able to find someone so much better and how I don't deserve you and how I...”

“And I always stick up for you. Always. And she backs off. Why can't the two of you just kiss and make up already?”

“I'd rather gouge my fucking eyes out with a dull spoon,” he mutters.

“She's my best friend, Max. She's like a sister to me. She's...”

“I'm your husband,” he angrily interrupts. “We're fucking married, Sloan. We have a kid. Don't you think that means more than just being best friends with someone?”

“Please don't do this,” I shake my head sadly. “Don't make it sound like you want me to choose.”

“Is there really a choice? Is there? Are you telling me that there's a choice, Sloan? That you'd honestly have to consider who to pick?” he sounds...and looks...legitimately hurt.

“I'd pick you, Max. You know that. I was just saying that...”

“You know what?” he shoves my feet off his lap and pushes his chair away from the table. “This is all just fucking bullshit. You wanting to start a goddamn fight over something stupid right when things are going good with us. Why can't you just ever back off? Why can't you just let yourself be happy for once? It's like you enjoy this. It's like you enjoy when you and I go at each other like this.”

“What the hell is your problem? All this over a blog? How can you come out here in a good mood and turn into such a prick in the blink of an eye? I'm not the one starting anything. You're the one with your panties in a twist over something stupid. It's a blog, Max. A fucking blog. You never had a problem with it before. You never...”

“I always thought it was stupid and you know it. I always fucking hated that you were constantly bitching about me and airing our dirty laundry. You really think I like strangers knowing about our issues?”

“Oh my god, are you serious? You think all I do on there is complain about you? If you read the damn thing you'd realize it's the exact opposite. I may talk about dumb things you do and wonder where your brain and common sense is, but I never shit talk you. If you just sat and read it and...”

“Do whatever you want, Sloan. Write your fucking blog. If that's what's the most important to you in this world...”

“Now you're just being ridiculous. A regular goddamn drama queen. If my world doesn't revolve around you, you get all pissy and bitchy.”

“But you expect mine to revolve around you twenty four seven,” he points out. “Goes both ways, don't you think? Or is this the way things will always be? Me being the one putting the most into this marriage.”

“You're so delusional, Max. I could name five times off the top of my head where I've been the last thing on your list of important shit. So don't even go there with me. I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but you need to just go back inside and go back to bed and wake up on the right side of it the second time around.”

“Oh fuck you, Sloan,” he snarls, and then slams the patio door behind him and stomps into the house.

Men.