On Being Alone

I really don't mind being a single mom.  I'm good at being alone, I get to do things my way, and the brainwashing of my offspring is totally at my discretion.  Have I mentioned that they believe Barney eats his own poop?  A Barney-free life is a good life....

Since I was raised by an intelligent, stubborn, and ridiculously independent mother, the shoes I fill are pretty comfortable.  Some people marvel and ask "How do you do it all?!?!"  Well, I don't really have a choice, and I might as well make the best of it because it could always be much much worse.  Plus?  Freaking out is so bad for my pores....

Sometimes though, sometimes the bad and/or ugly sides of being alone glare at me while poking me in the eye and telling me I'm fat.  Examples:

During Houseold Projects

Good:  I feel empowered and capable to do things I might not otherwise attempt if I had a Y-chromosome present.

Bad:  Sometimes (usually while carrying a heavy object or getting blisters from an allen wrench) I become resentful that I have to do this alone, when a man could have it done in a fraction of the time and without as much sweating.

Ugly:  Occasionally, I become overconfident in my abilities and realize too late that I am about to get squished by the 800 lb piece of furniture I mistakenly believed I could muscle up a flight of stairs.  Or I realize, while trying to install a light fixture while balancing on a 5" square antique side table, that maybe at least ONE Y-chromosome reinforcement would have been helpful.

While Preparing Dinner

Good:  I get to cook what I want when I want, without worrying about offending a conventional pallet with my culinary experimentation.  I mean really, how do you know that you don't like portobello crusted mango chiffon cake with a bourban glaze and raspberry coulis if you don't at least try it first?

Bad:  I realize that I am the only adult around to partake of my gourmet delights.  Not wanting a perfectly delicious meal to go to waste, I tend to subsist on beans and rice or popcorn.

Ugly:  I go ahead and make the 3000 calorie delicacy and eat the whole thing myself.  Usually licking the bowl clean and falling asleep on the couch while watching America's Next Top Model reruns and leaving the dishes to crust in the kitchen overnight.

Bathing

Good:  I can take very long bubble baths with all manner of exfoliating sea salts, flower essences, and moisturizing oils in a tub lined with the approximately 2 dozen shampoo/conditioner bottles that I require.  And no one can say a damn thing about it.

Bad:  Without another adult to keep me in check, I can spend too much time in the tub examining my pores and errant eyebrow hairs.  Narcissism is bad.

Ugly:  About once a year, I slip in the shower after one of these baths.  I then spend the next 2 weeks washing off with baby wipes and shampooing my hair in the kitchen sink, in fear that next time, I might actually slip and fall and break my neck and die and scar my children for life when they discover my dead (but incredibly well exfoliated) body and are trapped until somebody notices that I'm missing and breaks into the house to find the girls filthy and emaciated and traumatized.  

I really need to teach them to dial 911.  Or take some more Lexapro.  Or both.