13 posts tagged “single mom”

So of course, I overslept.  Because it's reasonable to set one's alarm for 5:15am in order to wake up by 7:45, right?  And it wasn't one of those mornings where I reset my alarm in my sleep, or unplug it from the wall.  Heck, I even set TWO alarms for this morning because I wanted to be certain I had enough time to shower, feed the girls breakfast, throw a load of laundry in the dryer, make Allie's lunch, and fix the girls' hair in cute little bows.

Instead, I dreamed that I was awake and doing all of those things.  Then I dreamed that I actually went to the doctor and talked to him about how hard it is for me to wake up in the mornings.  He responded by taking off his shirt, dancing a sort of ballet hokey pokey, and bragging about an article he'd written for "Men's Health" about a perfectly legal drug cocktail that made it so I'd never have to sleep again.  So I was pretty bummed when I actually did wake up to discover 2 sleepy children in my bed and only 20 minutes in which to dress, feed, and groom them before the bus came.

They were reluctant to get out of bed (it's genetic!) so I did what any good mother would do:  I promised them that if they got up, they could have a slice of birthday cake for breakfast.  (No, I have no shame.  Thanks for asking!)  That got their attention and they shuffled sleepily to the table for the healthiest of breakfasts.  Meanwhile, did I take a shower?  Did I tend to the laundry?  Did I make lunch?  Nope.  I sort of twittered back and forth on which thing I should do, and whether or not I had time to do any of them.  Ulitmately, I decided my time would be best spent sorting through the girls' winter clothes to determine who had outgrown what.  (No, I have no prioritization skills.  Thanks for asking!)

Of course, once I emerge from the storage closet, the girls have decided to color a picture instead of getting dressed.  And I can't really be mad at them, because they're clearly just as scatterbrained as I am.  I remind them that I've laid out their clothes and to please please please get dressed.  I do the same.  I come out to find them dressed, but shoeless because they can't find socks.  I beg them to just wear the same socks they had on yesterday, because I mean really.... it's just socks.  But they all of the sudden have "standards" or something so I have to sort through the bucket of socks to find 2 matching pairs.  (I HATE SOCKS.  I wish they were disposable.)  I think Allie ended up wearing a pair of my socks, and Avery's are the same color, but 2 different sizes.

We stumble out of the house, having missed the bus, having not showered, having no cute bows in our hair, no healthy organic lunch packed, no laundry drying for us to fold upon our return.  I manage to drop Avery off at preschool in record time.  (Loveyoubegoodhavefunbye!)  Then I hit every single red light on the way to Allie's school.  She is technically 2 minutes late, and I feel like the worst mother EVER, but realize that there are other moms dropping their kids off late too.  So I guess maybe we can all join the horrible mother's club together.  I'll make us tee-shirts, and buttons, and embroidered hats with matching flip-flops! 

Everyone safely deposited, I let my boss know I'm running late.  Make it to work only 10 minutes late.  Add another 5 minutes to that because I still can't find my stinking work badge and have to dig through my purse/car/laptop case until I find it.  Arrive at my desk to be greeted by one of our vendors.  You know, those vendors who bring breakfast to the office in order to get business.  He actually says to me "Man! I wish I had your job and could stroll in after 9:00!"  Which, I don't know.  I'm sure he meant it all funny like.  But when some good ol' boy oilfield dude driving a Cadillac and whoring for my business tries to imply that *I* have it easy and am living the good life, well... that just kinda ticks me off. 

I worry that this might not be a very good day today.

See all the awesome pictures I got at Allie's open house Monday night?  The ones where she shows me around her classroom, pointing out her favorite books, prized artwork, her own cubby with her name on it?  The one of her hugging her teacher?  The one of her sitting at her table looking all scholarly and cute?  You don't see those?  Oh yeah, that's because I didn't get any...

So technically it was curriculum night.  I thought this was the same thing as open house.  I thought there would be parents and kids milling about the classroom, children pointing out their artwork, saying hi to friends, parents mingling with each other, waiting to talk to the teacher.  You know, open house right?  Wrong.  It was CURRICULUM NIGHT.  And I totally missed the memo that detailed this as a kid free affair, so I show up with moppets in tow.  I plopped down in Allie's kindergarten size chair, balanced a child on each knee, and then the presentation began.

Which, okay.  Open concept.  I'd heard of it before, and had even seen it before.  My mom was a special education teacher in an open concept school and hated it because her kids could already not pay attention very well, and then were further distracted by the lack of walls.  Classrooms are demarcated with filing cabinets, computer desks, or rolling bulletin boards.  I thought it was a great idea until I was hunkering down at this kindergarten table straining to listen to the teacher.  The ESL class is right next "door" and that teacher was speaking Spanish quite loudly.  Another teacher across the hall was also on high volume. 

Listening doesn't really describe what I was trying to do.  I had to focus every ounce of my non-medicated will power on grabbing each uttered word out of the air and ramming it into my brain for prompt processing before it was run over and whisked away by the senorita one partition over.  And of course while I'm doing this, Allie is asking me if she can go visit a friend she sees (a couple of other moms didn't get the memo either) and of course I say no.  Avery just wants to twitch and flop, which I'm trying to discourage.  And I'm also trying to shush them because I want to hear what Allie's school day is like and what they are learning.  I actually wondered if I could bust out the old school "church pinch" my mom used to such great effectiveness in my youth, but figured that would not encourage Avery in her silence.  And of course, I feel like everyone is looking at me disdainfully because here is the young looking single mom with the unruly kids.  How horrible!  Why won't she control them!

By the end of the hour long presentation, my arm was sore from trying to keep Avery sitting on my lap immobile, my jaw ached from clenching it, my nostrils were permanently flared, and I basically just felt like a big giant failure of a mother. I was supposed to take pictures of her classroom to send to her father, I was supposed to have Allie show me her favorite part of her school, I was supposed to talk to the teacher and let her know how much Allie loves her class.  Instead, I left as soon as I could so that I didn't start crying right there in front of everyone.  I flunked curriculum night and everyone was now in judgement of me.

Which I know is ridiculous.  I know I'm a good mom and anyone who spends about 2 minutes with me and the girls knows this too.  I also know I shouldn't care what people think of me.  My sister and I always have these panicky moments where we beleive everyone is completely concerned with what we're doing, saying, wearing, being and we tell each other "Darling, you're just not that important."  But I guess being a single mom in a room full of happily married Junior League types makes me feel like the odd duck.  The fact that I look about 18 doesn't help matters, and I just don't want people to think I'm the stupid young mom.  So I expect my children to behave perfectly, which is completely not fair to them, and just makes me miserable in the process. 

Moral of the story?  That Ashley needs to dig out that New Year's Resolution list and highlight "Quit trying to be perfect" in bright yellow, laminated it, and tape it to her forhead.  Oh, and that Avery will never ever ever go to an open concept school because if *I* can't pay attention for an hour in there, then certainly she can't....

MomsRising.org is the website of a fantastic organization devoted to... well, here.  I'll just copy and paste.

The members of MomsRising are moving important motherhood and family issues to the forefront of the country's awareness, and are working to break the logjam that’s been holding back family-friendly legislation for decades. MomsRising is doing this by providing grassroots support to leaders and organizations addressing key issues such as paid family leave; flexible work options; after-school programs; healthcare for all kids; excellent childcare; realistic, fair wages; and paid sick days for all.

Shocking but true: There is deep bias against mothers in America today. One study found mothers are 44% less likely to be hired than equally qualified non-mothers, and are offered an average of $11,000 lower starting salaries. Another study found women without children make 90 cents to a man’s dollar, mothers make 73 cents, and single mothers make about 60 cents to a man’s dollar.

The Huffington Post will be featuring a new series of blogs dedicated to "work-life" balance and/or the travails of the average working mother.  This hit me just right today as I'm being reprimanded for telecommuting when I have to stay home with the sick children.  Because instead of staying connected to the office and caught up with my work load, I should just sit at home and wipe snotty noses, right?  I can't do both and it's much preferable for me to fall behind and get swamped, than to set the wrong precedent for other workers.  We wouldn't want everyone to think that our company is flexible.  That would be bad.

Anyway, the blog starts here http://www.huffingtonpost.com/willow-bay/the-daily-balancing-act_b_63753.html and the revolution startes here http://www.huffingtonpost.com/joan-blades/a-peaceful-revolution_b_63729.html

Enjoy. 

I don't want the quiet.  It's too loud.  Even though I know the girls would be asleep right now, and the house would be just as quiet if they were here, it feels so empty and forlorn.  No one will come wake me up in the middle of the night to ask me for a flower blankey.  No one will pounce on me at 7 am asking for cereal and Power Rangers.  And no one will hug my neck so sweetly in their sleep, that I want to wake them up and squeeze them back just as sweetly.  I miss my baby girls.  :(

I know I'm kind of vague here, b/c a lot of my readers are friends who know my backstory.  But for those who aren't and don't, here's cliffnotes: I was married to A&A's father.  He was unfaithful, so we divorced.  I've only had one serious relationship since then.  He was distant and flinchy, so that ended after 18 months.  And since then, I've kind of decided that I'm okay with becoming the crazy cat lady one day.  I've got my girls and my family and my friends, and didn't see the need to complicate my life further.

I tried my hand at eHarmony, but didn't really get into it.  Then I went for a Match.com 3 day trial last month, out of boredom and a need to prove to my mother that I wasn't giving up hope entirely.  It was mostly filled with guys who posted pictures of their triceps or guys who sent me messages saying "You're pretty! Let's go out!"  Creepy.  I was on the last day of my trial, when Match sent me an email with all my potential matches.  One of them stood out because, well, because he looked like Morrissey.  In his picture he had those kind of glasses on, and I'm a sucker for nerdy guys.  (Come to find out, it was part of his Halloween costume where he went as Clark Kent.) As soon as I clicked on his profile, I was sold.  Here's a little snippet:

I’m not going to waste a lot of cash on a date unless I think it’s going to be worth it for me. I need money to keep my car running. I have a 1972 pinto that I painted to look like the general lee on the dukes of hazard. It has three white-walls and a snow tire but it’s pretty fast and has a lot of space in the back seat. I think it’s fun to honk at old people or to run over animals playing on the side of the road. If my match has a better car than me I will probably need to borrow it especially when delivering pizza.

It was a complete sarcastic masterpiece, in character throughout the entire thing.  Save for one small line at the end that said "Really I'm just a nice guy, looking for a nice girl with a sense of humor."  Clearly, his sense of humor was up my alley.  So I emailed him and told him he sounded exactly like my brother-in-law.  We've been emailing back and forth since then and he's only gotten funnier.  He's a writer and a painter.  He also has 3 kids, so my dreams of turning out as cute as Steve and Janie might come to fruition one day ;)  Ha ha.

We talked on the phone a couple of times, and I tried desperately to not sound like I normally do.  (Check out the tag "foot in mouth" to see my usual verbal atrocities)  I guess it worked because he wanted to meet me in person for dinner on Friday.  This is the date for which I was negligent in my obsessing.  Wow that sentence sucked.

I started panicking when I left work.  I realized that I hated the outfit I had picked out and went to the mall in search of a black shirt, only to discover that the black shirt I was looking for was sold out.  So I went to my sister's, stole all of her jewelry, and made a mad dash home to shower and get ready. I ended up wearing the same damn outfit I'd planned originally but I found some better jewelry (thanks sis!) which calmed my nerves an eensy bit. 

On the drive to the restaurant, I began to get more nervous about the date instead of my fashion.  I was alternately practicing my smile in the rearview mirror, and talking to myself.  Then telling myself to stop talking to myself.  THen telling myself that telling myself to stop talking to myself was still, technically, talking to myself.  It's complicated being me.

I walked in the door at 7:30 on the dot and he was already there.  He was sitting at the bar, sucking down a vodka tonic with the same nervous efficiency I would be devoting to a drink had I had one at the time.  The first thing I noticed about his outfit was his brown striped socks...he had his leg crossed just so, so that his socks were visible and they were adorable.  Nicely dressed, but not so nicely that I would worry.  Sport coat, but with straight leg dark jeans.  Button up shirt, but not strategically unbuttoned to display coiffed chest hair.  (I promise I'm not normally this shallow and fashion obessed...just trying to give an accurate description :))

I walked over and said hi and he said hi and then I got all awkward and dorky and fidgety.  But I instantly said that it had been an atrociously weird day and that I was sort of totally nervous and apologized in advance for sounding like an asshole.  He laughed and we were shown to our table.  I made it to the table without tripping or falling or sounding like an asshole and immediately ordered the largest Grey Goose and tonic they had avaible.  He did the same, but with Absolut, and confessed to being nervous too.  We agreed to be dorky together.

Conversation was great.  He has a great sense of humor and really really likes my sense of humor.  He has hilarious stories about his kids, friends, work.  He went to school in Austin and we were actually at UT at the same time.  We both loathe Aggies and he's my personal hero for actually peeing on their sacred grass (it's a Texas rivalry thing).  I had one horrible embarassing moment during dinner.  I ordered the Pacific Salmon which came with these decorative tortilla strip thingies.  When taking a bite of my fish, part of one of the strips decided to hang out outside my mouth.  I went to push it in, and it went up almost in my nose.  And I literally had to try about 3 times to get it in my mouth.  But he was laughing good naturedly and I was too, so it was all good.  I just felt really comfortable around him I guess.

I did have a couple of foot in mouth moments, but I'll save them for a separate entry.  Once I apologized for weirding him out and he said "I'm not weirded out! I was thinking quite the opposite!" Awww, yay!

By the time we realized that we were the only people left in the restaurant and that the waitstaff were all sitting in the corner glaring at us, it was 11pm.  He walked me to my car and we were both palpably nervous.  I, of course, try to break the silence by mentioning a news article I read online that day about how pedophiles are using online dating sites meet single moms so they can target their children.  Do I know how to set the mood or what?  He actually claimed that he moves around a lot, so the sex offender registry can't keep up with him.  We then mutually agreed that this line of joking was getting creepy.

He said he had a great time and wanted to go out again if I was free.  I explained that my mom is so scared I'm going to grow up to be a bitter old cat lady that she has given me carte blanche babysitting services if they are used so that I might date.  He said he was really nervous (again) so I asked if I could have a hug.  He jumped at the chance and we hugged good night.   30 minutes later he texted me to tell me he'd had a good time and to make sure I was home safe.  Aww, thoughtful!

So I went from being cautiously optimistic, to really excited, which sucks because now I'm terrified I'm going to get squashed again.  But he's been squashed too, so I think he's pretty sensitive to that.  In fact, before we even talked on the phone, we had exchanged blog addresses.  So I knew of his heartaches, and he knew of my tendency to sound like an asshole.  It was weird to skip a lot of the superficial getting to know you stuff and sort of lazily share both the most shadowy and sunny parts of me, all thanks to Vox.  But it's also very refreshing because it's all out there. Is this how dating will be in the future?  I'll show you my blog if you show me yours?  It works for me.  He's actually a wonderful writer.  Enough style and wit to make me not notice his spelling mistakes and typos.  (Because I'm perfect, right?) 

And LORD help me I'm for sure setting this one to neighborhood only.  Because I want to share, but geeez, not that much :) 

When Allie was born, the first thing she did after being placed in my arms, was to flare her nostrils at me.  This is how I knew she was my child.  There is nothing more silently communicative than a well placed nostril flare and it is a talent that I was proud to see passed on to the next generation.

Fast forward 5 years to Monday night.  Allie was in bed with me, as per usual.  We were talking about our upcoming move, kindergarten starting soon, and whether or not I would allow her to take acting classes.  We decided to have a flaring refresher course mid-way during the conversation and I wished for a video camera as I watched her twitch her nose like a bunny rabbit while trying to make her nose move.  She was contorting her face in all sorts of tiny ways but couldn't flare her nostrils.

"Think of something really irritating," I offered.

"Like when Avery antagonizes me?"

"Yes." I tried not to laugh as she flared both of them in the perfect tone of weary condescension.  (I think it's been mapped to the 17th chromosome. I'm not entirely certain.)

She interrupted the lesson to inform me that I needed a husband so I could get pregnant. 

"Um, no."

"Please, Mommy!"

"But you know what Allie?  If I have a husband, then you wouldn't be able to climb in bed with me and practice nose flaring with me."

She thought about this quietly and then agreed.

"You don't need a husband Mommy. We have fun without one!"

Smart girl.

I know, I know.  I'm supposed to be cheerful and grateful and happy.  No one likes a whiner.  But where is that line?  Is it wrong to worry or vent about problems or should I just keep them to myself?  Is bottling things up and pretending all is well in the least bit helpful?

How things stand:

Mom was denied disability.  She survived a grade 5 anuerysmal subarachnoid hemorrhage, lost a great deal of speech ability, short term memory, strength on her right side.  She needs a nap everyday or her speech gets even worse, can't remember what happened yesterday, and needs to use both hands to open a can of coke, but no.... that's not disabled.  Her "husband" refuses to help her out.  He won't pay her car note, give her gas money, or provide anything more than a place to live.  He's hidden her jewelry from her for fear that she might pawn it.  Because, you know, she shouldn't pawn jewelry to pay a car note.  My grandmother will pay it.  Because she's just rolling in the money as a retired missionary. 

I tried to keep up with her car note last year.  I tried to keep up with everything after her brain aneurysm exploded last year.  What happened?  I couldn't pay for the girls day care.  Full-time daycare for a 3 and 4 year old costs $1400 a month.  I make too much to qualify for assistance.  I couldn't pay for my own insurance or car.  My car was repossessed.  I couldn't send the girls to school anymore and my sister had to keep them for awhile.  I couldn't keep the house we were living in and had to move to an apartment.  It's depressing and embarrassing, but there you have it.  I wasn't getting ANY money for child support at the time and trying to do it all myself.  The stress was so bad that my seizure disorder flared up again and I had to get back on medication for the first time in 6 years.

Things gradually got on track.  Mom watched the girls for me.  The ex started to pay child support a few months ago.  I've been planning on moving to house this summer that would be big enough for Mom to live with us.  I stupidly thought that she would be getting approved for disability, given that every doctor she has seen is amazed that she is even alive.  The survival rate for her condition is only 10%.  She is a miracle and is progressing really well. 

With the money I was getting in child support, I put the girls in a part-time preschool.  They need the social interaction and are just so hungry to learn.  They're smart little girls and I want to be able to harness that love for learning while their young.  The school wasn't the best of places, but they made friends and Allie was learning to write again.  I hate that she's not reading by now.  If she'd been able to stay in school, she'd be reading by now.  I'm so terrified that all of this upheaval and instability is going to scar them somehow.  I'm trying my best to keep things calm and scheduled for them, but I don't have that luxury all the time.

Yesterday, I had to pick the girls up from school.  Mom wasn't feeling well enough to watch them.  Their pre-school is being bought out by a larger chain called KinderCare.  I had to take them out of a KinderCare after Mom's aneurysm because I couldn't afford it anymore.  They wanted me to pay for the 2 weeks the girls didn't attend school.  The 2 weeks that I was in Louisiana wondering if my mom was going to die.  The 2 weeks in which I didn't get paid.  So, when I walk in the building yesterday, who should appear but the director of their old school.  She politely says hi, good to see  you, I didn't know you were here.  Then I hear someone whispering to her "do you want to talk to her?" as I walk down the hall to retrieve the girls.  On the way out, she informs me that I need to pay off my balance from last year if I want the girls to keep going there.

Which, OK, I didn't like that school all that much to begin with and was going to look for something else.  Mom is doubting her ability to watch the girls as much as she has been, so I wanted to find something that had a fuller part-time schedule for around the same cost, which would mean a church program somewhere.

But wait.  I get a call later that night from the ex to tell me that any/all child support payments will be on hold for a few months.  Child support equals school money.  So now I don't have money for them to go to school.  My mom is not up to watching them, no matter how strongly she denies that claim in an effort to help me.  My sister can't watch them because she is now hugely pregnant and needs to stay off of her feet, lest she end up on bedrest like she did with her last pregnancy.

I'm sorry if I sound like I'm whining, but I am at a loss as to what to do.  I know Mom can file an appeal and hire a lawyer, but that will take another  year I'm sure.  What do real people do?  I make too much for assistance, but not enough to actually work and pay for school.  Allie starts kindergarten in August, so that will help.  But right now it's April and just surviving to August seems impossible.  I don't understand the "system".  I don't understand how people who work their asses off year after year after year can get no help when something catastrophic happens.  It's unjust.  And more than that, it is exhausting.

I apologize for being a downer.  And please don't get me wrong.  I am grateful everyday that Mom is still here.  Just being able to call her everyday is a gift beyond measure.  It's just taking us all a lot longer to recover and get back on track than I ever thought it would.

I'll promise I'll post something peppy and cute in a little bit.  I promise.  Meanwhile, if anyone needs any freelance writing/design/vacuuming done, I'm your girl.

As a single mom, it is not uncommon for people to wonder aloud how I do it all.  I often hear complaints from my married friends about how hard it is to be a single mom even for brief moments when their husbands are traveling for work.  Some of the time, these comments can annoy me.  I know that they are meant as complimentary, so I don't get my feathers ruffled, but being a single mom isn't all about handling the labor alone.  Honestly, I did that even when I was married.  I joke that it's easier alone because I have one less person to clean up after.  Which isn't really even a joke.

I think the nice thing about being a single mom is the lack of expectations.  I can't be frustrated with anyone if the dishwasher is unloaded because I know I'm the only one who will do it. Laundry, vacuuming, bills, all of it falls to me, so I don't have the stress of not knowing if it will be done.  Handling the girls on my own is also pretty easy.  Sure, it's nice to have a hand every now and then, but it's understood that I set the rules and there is no one else to ask if Mom says no.  I get to have all the goodnight hugs and kisses, dry all the tears, and doctor all of the scraped knees.  That's not a bad deal, really.

One of my proudest moments as a single mom was during our recent trip to Colorado.  I coordinated luggage for all three of us, juggled carseats, ziplocked all applicable fluids, defrocked and refrocked the girls through security, ensured the plane was free of peanut dust, kept them entertained throughout the flight, and got all the baggage myself too.  On top of that, Allie and Avery were perfect little angels while on the plane and charmed all the flight attendants and even a passenger or two.  I know it seems like a silly thing to be proud of, but I am, so you get to listen to me brag about it.  I guess I just realized the scope of all that I handle myself, and acknowledged that it is sometimes difficult, but that makes it just that much more rewarding.

We survived the trip (even with significant flight delays on our return) and made it back to our peaceful home.  That night, the girls were asleep, all the dirty clothes were being washed, and life was once again calm.  These are the hardest parts of being a single mom.  There was no one to talk to about our trip.  No one to hug me and welcome me home; nobody missed me while I was gone.  When I finally had a chance to release all the tears I'd been saving since our near miss with Mom on Sunday, there was no shoulder for me to rest on; no one patted me on the back to tell me it would be okay.  I know I'm not completely alone.  I have some of the best friends ever, but they all have their own families and dramas and lives to deal with and I don't want to burden them with my neediness.  I think nights like this one are why I let the girls stay up late sometimes.  They're a handful sure, but I'd rather have my hands full than empty.

Yes, it's 120x120 pixels because that's how I feel with it.  Tiny and spritely and gamine.  Maybe one day, I can be a pixie too.  Just like Crystal. ;)

Actually it's small because I'm working with my lovely crappy camera phone, but you get the gist.

Neav