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I woke up on time this morning, but it took a lot of motivation to get myself out of bed. I was cuddled in the mass of blankets, and I felt my baby girl next to me. She has developed quite a bad habit of waking up during the night and sneaking into my bed. On one hand, I don’t like her in there. Ever since she was an infant, she has been an aggressive sleeper. She moves around a lot, she commands a lot of space, and she is completely unaware of the discomfort that it causes for the other person in the bed (which, of course, is me). However, on the other hand, this morning made me smile. I climbed out of bed to hit my snooze button, and when I crawled back in bed beside her, she reached for me. I felt her tiny, soft, warm hand reach for my arm, slide up to my shoulder, and cling to my neck. She was seeking comfort, and she easily found it. I smiled, and I said a silent prayer of thanks to God for giving me such an angel.
As I drove into work this morning, I thought back on the little scene from this morning. I was remembering how her hand felt on my skin, and how overwhelmed I felt by how much I love my little girl. Then, I realized that I’ve been on my own for 6 months. Beyond that, it’s been considerably longer (at least 2 years) since I had someone in my bed that I could reach to for comfort, knowing without a doubt that I was loved and cherished. I expected to feel sad, but I didn’t. I felt empowered. Six months ago, I didn’t feel like I would survive 6 DAYS on my own, let alone 6 weeks or 6 months. But I have. I’m a survivor, and I’m proud of that. And now, I need chocolate…
So it’s Wednesday, which means I’m recovering from school night. (insert guttural noise of disgust here) I got home last night at about 10:30, to a second night of cleaning up canine diahrrea of my walls. Yeah, Weenie has the squirts. Still. If I have to clean that shit up again tonight, that little effer is getting a dose of immodium. I’m not even kidding.
I made a comment to someone yesterday that cleaning up dog shit didn’t make me feel much like a princess, and boy, ain’t that the truth! Straight up. Except….maybe if I had some old crotchety lady bitching at me all the time (the evil stepmother), I could totally twist this into a Cinderella thing…
But for now, I’m ok living in my 2 bedroom, 1 ½ bath castle sans prince. It’s not awesome, but it’s ok. There are things I miss, but things I don’t… For example, SPACE. I have alllllll the closet space I want. My shoes are not competing with high school football letterman jackets. That part is kinda nice. But, not having a dude to swoop in to clean up said dog poo and save me from the unpleasant chore is a bit of a bummer.
I’m tired of writing about all the boo-friggin-hoo crap. So, I think it’s time for some blogiahrrea. Randamninity. Get my shiz all straightened out.
Dating blows. But hanging out with rad guys who know how to throw down is awesome.
I need a happy place…preferably on a beach…in Hawaii…with cabana boys who bring me margaritas.
Singing along with Fred all the way to work = :)
My car is a POS, but I like driving it. Something about downshifting and bustin’ ass on 630 is just wicked awesome.
I love people who can’t speak their own language. There’s just something about people with shitty grammar skills that gives me great laughter…
It’s pretty awesome to know when someone’s thinking about you… The random IM’s, texts, emails, facebook comments…I just like it. It’s nice.
Over the weekend, I took some time to reflect on how much my life has changed in such a short time. Only 5 months ago, I was planning the final details of J’s 5th birthday party. I was still recovering from Christmas, and my life seemed normal. I was nervous, but it was normal.
This time last year, I got a call from my best friend, Peas. The ex had sent her a text and needed to talk to her. We speculated about what he wanted to talk to her about, finally deciding that he was trying to make plans to do something really great, just the 2 of us. Things had been crazy lately, and he knew that I was feeling like we were disconnected, and I was really needing us to be back in touch with one another. She sent me a text a while later telling me to call her when I was on my way home. I did. I could hear it in her voice. She had something to tell me, and she didn’t want to. She stumbled a few times, and I finally told her to just let it out. She did. He wanted out. He wasn’t happy, he wanted to focus on work and he didn’t want to feel guilty for not being at home. He wanted to leave, he just didn’t want to be the one to tell me. I was driving down 630, and I felt like I just wanted to throw up. I felt more sick than I ever have in my life. I remember the feeling of my jaw as it locked and I tried not to cry. I remember the feeling of sheer panic, fear, confusion and overwhelming sadness. The thing is, I never saw it coming. The ex and I talked that night, and we made a list of things to work on. He said he wanted to try.
I kicked it into high gear. For the next 6 months, I cooked every night, our house stayed clean, I didn’t turn him down for anything, no matter what he asked for. SIX months. Things calmed down, we didn’t talk about it, and I began to feel like things had blown over. Then, one day in January, I was at work. I looked at the ex’s facebook page. I wish I could remember the words…well maybe I don’t…but either way, there were a few status updates that I hadn’t noticed. They exuded unhappiness. I called him and he said he was just in a bad place…that he didn’t know what to think, and we would talk later. The rest is kind of a blur. I walked on pins and needles for a week. Then, he left. He did it. He packed his things. He sat on our bed and explained to our daughter what he was doing. I held her as she cried, and I cried right along with her.
The 2 or 3 weeks that followed that night are becoming a distant memory. I can remember crying myself to sleep every night, wondering why he didn’t want me. I remember feeling forgotten, left behind. Gradually, of course, I crawled out of that hole.
When I look at myself today, it feels like it’s been a lot longer since that night. Maybe it feels like longer because I expected it for so long…but either way, my life is so different now. I’m alone, but I’m happy with who I am. I’m not spending every ounce of my energy to please someone who doesn’t appreciate it. I’m living for my daughter, and for myself. I’m living in a way I can be proud of. I’m standing on my own 2 feet, and I don’t see what was so scary about it…
I’ll get back to talking about the ever-changing basket, maybe tomorrow….but for now, I’m just reviewing, and reflecting. Things do change…I’ve been on my own for 5 months. In 5 more months, I’ll be 32. I’ll be approaching my first holiday season as a single mom. I hope I’m not still alone…
Have you ever gone to a restaurant while you were on vacation in another state? Somewhere very different from where you live...like, Illinois or something. You look around, and you see an unusual shortage of people wearing red GO HOGS shirts. You don't hear anyone saying "ya'll" and you don't hear any talk of how the Panthers are looking this year. It makes you acutely aware that you are not in your normal element, and that you are not the "norm."Friday night, J wanted to go out to eat to celebrate her graduation from preschool. Of course I said yes, and I gave her the pick of where we go. She settled on Dixie Cafe. We were led through the restaurant, towards a table in the back. As we walked, I looked around and noticed an overwhelming absence of people like me. There were at least 2 adults at every table. So I sat at my table in the back, and I looked around at the families that surrounded me. It made me painfully aware of what I was missing out on, and it made me angry. And sad. And resiliant, all at the same time... Maybe I'm not permanently in my position...maybe I'm just out of state, and I'm temporarily out of my element. And someday soon, I'll be back in my comfort zone. I'll have a protector and a provider. And I'll be right back at home, comfortable and familiar...
It’s hard to stay sad when everyone around you is so happy! With the Arkansas boy taking AI last night, everyone around here is just plain giddy. That’s awesome! I’m surrounded by smiley people, and I like it! My work spouse just brought me a fresh diet coke, and I have my heater on under my desk keeping me nice and toasty. Life’s good.
A friend of mine told me yesterday that my “man hunt is like a good book that you can’t put down.” Apparently, I have several friends that are living vicariously through me, and are thoroughly enjoying my daily updates of the men circling my single mama camp. I’ve been reading Ms. Single Mama (MSM)’s blog for a while now, and I’m constantly amazed at the men who actually prefer women who are mothers over childless single women (CSW).
At first, I had the same mentality that Peas had when she was newly single. I wondered “Who is going to want THIS?” I mean, having a child consumes a HUGE part of a woman…her time, her heart, her resources…and it was baffling to think about what man in his right mind would want a part of that. However, the more I date, the more I find that men are not put off by that at all…in fact, MSM is right. They seem to prefer it. Single mothers have a lot of qualities and mannerisms not found in CSW. When a man calls a CSW, he has her undivided attention. She can talk all night about herself. When he calls a single mom, chances are, he’ll hear:
Kid: “MOOOOM!”
Mom: “um, can you hang on a second?”
Him: “Uh, sure.”
Mom: “What, baby?”
Kid: “I’m thirsty.”
Mom: “There’s juice in the fridge. You know where it is.”
Kid: “I know, but I want YOU to get it.”
Mom: “Ugh. Ok, but for real. You know how to help yourself next time, ok?”
Kid: “Ok mom. I love you!”
Mom: “I love you too!”
Mom: “ok, sorry, I’m back.”
And if he has any amount of heart at all, that whole little detour didn’t annoy him, but made him smile. He regularly gets a glimpse into the most important part of her world, just from listening to her go about her life, while he sits, watches, and waits. It’s like watching something so beautiful that you just can’t look away. And she won’t talk all night about herself…without a doubt, less than 5 minutes will go by before she mentions her kid, or she’ll come up with a story that she just has to share because it’s just too precious not to. When she’s talking about her kid, the sound and inflection in her voice changes. She softens, she relaxes, and she gushes about that one little person who makes her world go round. He sees her strength, her courage, her endurance…and what he doesn’t know is that she’s sitting, patiently waiting to be swept off her feet by someone who wants to make her life easier because she really is just THAT amazing… A CSW dreams of a man who will buy her a new house and watch her walk down the isle in an amazing Vera Wang wedding gown. A single mom dreams of a man who will do the dishes and take her kid for a walk, returning with a bouquet of hand-picked flowers. So yeah…what man wouldn’t want a woman like that?
I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to fully understand testosterone. I mean, really. That stuff makes guys do crazy things…like, play sports that make them sweat, kill animals, and chug frosty brew for bragging rights. I’ll admit that the sweaty stuff is pretty hot, but the other effects are just plain strange…being a girl seems to be SO much better.
