Live simply so others may simply live.

Oh, that Mother Theresa still gets to me. And Simple Mom, Tsh, she's been holding my attention for a while, too. I recently bought her book, Organized Simplicity. Read it cover and to cover and have been working to implement her mindset into my life. I even recruited my boyfriend… ok. Perhaps, I strong-armed him a little. ;) I joke… I joke…

I read the newest post by Tsh this morning amidst a rather large heated cup of coffee… literally and figuratively. I’ve fought very hard to cut the superficial from my life, from my daughter’s life, yet recently it has crept in. I feel, and even see, its grimy little fingers taking hold of my budding family’s conversations and I don’t like it.

I’ve tried to teach my daughter the beauty of appreciation and of the few luxuries, which even she as the daughter of a single mother, had. I have wanted to enlist her help in giving back and to help those less fortunate, but never knew just where to physically start. I think the following story and Tsh’s experiences are the perfect addition to begin implementing this mindset with both her and K. I love Tsh’s breakdown of how simple it is for us to make a difference and how even the smallest of sacrifices in our lives effect those we dare not think of.

Unfortunately, I have found humility and selflessness don’t go as far as they used to. I’m determined to change that. Luckily, I have two little girls with the biggest hearts by my side.

Oxenreider, Tsh. “Now that you know, what will you do?” SimpleMom.net, June 3, 2011

Tots, booty cheers and soapboxes.

Have I mentioned how much I love Blogher? Finally, thought provoking and relevant mommy blogs.

/rant

I must need more coffee today. Anyhoo...

In response to: Child Kicked Off Squad When Mother Protests Cheer

I know that one day I will be faced with Addison wanting to join a cheer squad or dance squad, and while I love the socialization and activity aspect of it, I do fear the sexification aspect. Perhaps, I'm just over analyzing, it is my nature though. Personally, I would stand full support with this mother and any other that stood against these cheers. Our children have to grow up too soon already... do we really need to push them closer to that line of innocence early, too? 

Read the below article and tell me: where do you stand? 

BlogHer: Child Kicked Off Squad When Mother Protests Cheer

September 21, 2010 5:00 am by Nordette Adams

The world has changed. In our effort to accept all cultures as equal and worthy of respect under the banners of multiculturalism and democracy as well as our human tendency to pass on practices while forgetting origin and context, we arrive at controversy. Let's look at the case of the recently great Michigan "Booty Cheer" drama. 

Most of us who are parents share concerns about the sexualization of children, especially little girls dressing as scantily as exotic dancers or mimicking Beyonce's moves while singing her hit "Single Ladies." Consequently, we readily agree that six-year-old Kennedy Tesch's mother was right. The so-called "cheer" taught to little Kennedy's cheerleading squad that roots for the Madison Heights flag football team was inappropriate: "Our backs ache/our skirts are too tight/we shake our booties from left to right."

For questioning the appropriateness of this chant, however, the mother was not rewarded but penalized. Her daugher was kicked off the cheering squad. Well, that hardly seems fair.

If you watch the MSNBC video on the story, you may surmise, as I have, that kicking Kennedy off the squad was much more about punishing her mother for challenging authority and going public with the story than it was about any love of the grand old "booty cheer."

As Tashi Singh asks "Was it worth hurting a child, her parents, and ultimately the reputation of the school in order to keep some silly cheerleading chant?"

Singh is not the only one asking that question to which they answer may be crazy things happen when human egos are on the line. The other question arising from the story is this, "Is that actually a cheer and where did it come from?"

I was born in 1960, am 50 years old, and was raised in the African-American community of New Orleans, La. When this story came to my attention in email, I responded that the infamous "booty cheer" is a marching chant or cadence, and I remember hearing variations of it as a child and teen. One of those is this one:

"To the right, to the left, to the right, left, right.
My back is aching,
My drawers too tight,
My booty's shaking from left to right.
To the left, to the right, to the left right left.

The words shift with time and audience. When adopted by girls "drawers" become "bra." In cleaner versions "bra" becomes "shoes," or "drawers" become "pants" or "belts" and "booty" becomes "hips."

I remember hearing this chant outside while playing with other children and as I got older, possibly on the bus following a football game while the boys beat out the rhythm on the back of bus seats. Checking around the Web, I recalled hearing other adaptations that came after my playground years that were used by cheerleaders along with "Bang Bang Choo Choo Train," and someone said in the email thread that she recalls the "booty cheer" as part of Double Dutch jump rope games.
Continued after jump...

Bitter Lessons of Unpreparedness.

I could blame the new hormones for this, but I won't... the below article made me cry. Why you ask? Because this blogger hit something I'm very sensitive about... making the most and enjoying the time now. Not later... now.

And I think back to this morning, with my favorite person, big or little. And I remember how tired and rushed I was. Waking late at the Spencer household does not go over well. And as always, my little one, so eager to make everyone around her happy tried singing and playing all the games I typically find endearing, only to be caught with my stern, rushed words. And I didn’t even take a second to notice if my words left her deflated.

I know I sometimes get tunnel vision and in the hurried moments of trying to make sure the boss doesn’t get mad because I’m late, that the fish don’t die of starvation, that Addison doesn’t go to school looking homeless, that I don’t forget to mail the electricity bill or to put gas in the car and strand us or in simply trying to clear my head of the numerous to do lists… sometimes I miss the field for the corn. I miss the little ways in which she tries to help and sedate. I race around trying to turn off lights and find her back pack and sweater, only to find her waiting outside on the patio with all missing items in hand. I curse under my breath when I get her head to my nose while trying to buckle her in… only to be shown two days later, she was trying to figure it out herself “to help her favorite mommy”.

I guess I should find solace in all parents trying each and every moment to keep their world’s spinning and I guess I shouldn’t tear up when I realize that we are all no different in missing moments and regretting words, but I don’t find solace. I do tear up. And I do often remind myself that I’ve got a million moments to make up for. But we don’t get more time for these make ups as the days roll on, do we?  

Article from BlogHer.com: To The Young Mom in Aisle 7

I passed the young mother several times in the grocery store as we both weaved our way up and down the aisles. She was dressed nicely -- she must have gotten off work, grabbed the kids from daycare and had to hit the store before heading home.

She was tired -- I could tell by the way her face and shoulders drooped. As I maneuvered my basket around hers in the cereal aisle, I could hear her thoughts as she tossed flavored rice cakes into her cart: I'm eating this crap but still can't lose any weight, and no wonder when I don't have any time to exercise, working all day then grocery shopping and dealing with the kids.

A son, probably four, but big for his age, rode sideways in the basket seat. A daughter -- cute little thing with her hair bobbed like her mom's -- I guessed to be around 6 or 7. She was all smiles. Neither of the kids were whiny or bratty, from what I could tell in our brief encounters, just bubbly and full of joy, viewing this trip to the store as an adventure with their mom. They were probably happy to be with her, finally. Time goes by so quickly for adults, but for kids, a day's separation seems like forever.

I love how kids can turn everything into an adventure. I'm not sure I loved it all the time when my kids were little, though, and I don't think this mom appreciated it either. Kids seem to suck the energy right out of you. It's proportional -- they become happy and energetic while you become a crabby zombie. And your crabby-zombie-ness spreads until everyone around you is a crabby zombie.

Sure enough, she was one register over when I was checking out, and by then the little girl was in tears. Maybe I'm being too harsh on the mother -- maybe the little girl, tired from school or daycare and nearing bedtime, became a brat and kept asking for something even after her mom said no a zillion times.

At first I felt relief that it wasn't me having to deal with paying for my groceries and shooshing a tired child. But then I took another look at those kids, and in their place I saw mine so many years ago and thought of all the shopping trips we'd made together ... some not so fun, but some ... yes, some were lots of fun. And I know I didn't appreciate that time I had with my kids that age, so innocent, so bubbly, so energetic and full of joy.
I wanted to tell the mom to hang on, to keep it in perspective and take it a day at a time. Heck, a minute at a time, if necessary. I wanted to tell her to soak up her kids' joy and sense of adventure instead of letting them zap her energy -- it's possible! -- because before she knows it, those two are going to be grown and she's going to be walking the aisles selecting things she thinks they'll like to eat because they're coming home to visit for a weekend.

And she'll pass a tired mom with two little ones in tow and she'll think, if only I could go back in time. There are a few days I'd like to do over, a few days when instead of spreading my crabby zombie-ness, I'd like to try soaking up their joy and wonder at the world ... if only I had the chance to do some things a little differently ... if only ...

Barbara Shallue writes about her life at http://barbarashallue.typepad.com, shares photos and information about photography at http://barbarashalluephotography.blogspot.com and is contributing editor of http://jobs4autism.com.

Whatever life may bring, I know I've already won.

Last night Addi went with me to get the mail. Addi looked down at the athletic wear catalog she pulled from the mailbox and grinned. "Your belly doesn't look like that anymore, Mommy. But mine does," she giggled. She turned around and patted my stomach. "Your belly's getting bigger and bigger, mommy."

Sighing, unable to deny the truth any longer, I replied, "Do you know why mommy's belly is getting bigger?" A confused Addison shook her head no. "Because there's a baby in there, you goof ball!"

Without hesitation, Addison jumped in the air and clapped her hands. "I wanna play with it!" she exclaimed.

"We have to wait, Addi. First, we have to wait for your birthday and then for Christmas. Then, the baby will be done sleeping and you can play with it."

"When the snow comes?"

"Yep. When the snow comes, the baby will too." I reached for my wallet and pulled out the ultrasound pictures. "See this? This is the inside of mommy's tummy."

Addi wrinkled up her nose. "That's disgusting!"

Laughing, I pointed out the head and the body of the baby. She laid on the floor and pretended to be the sleeping baby. When she was done playing, I got up to get a drink from the kitchen.

"Mommy," Addi called. "Why's your butt getting bigger then?"

While my sanity and the very threads that bind this woman together have been tested these last few months, luckily my sense of humor remains.

So here I am. 16 week pregnant momma. 

Waiting for January. And hoping it brings a little girl.

Late night conversations with the best of me.

Tonight while laying in bed, Addi wandered off on one of her many tangents... Tonight exploring babies and growing up.

"Yesterday, I went to my dads house and we colors. I went grashrr!! {Waves arms in the air} and my finger got wet."

"Really? That sounds crazy."

"And my just played at my daddy's house. Actually. And then I went eh! Eh! And we took a little nap."

Addi loves pretending... She's a very vivid imagination, one of my favorite things about her. Right now, she loves pretending to be a baby. I border on finding it adorable and.... Incredibly annoying. Its a fine line. She stayed in the roll for a couple more minutes, before I gently reminded her that she is now a big girl and we must go to sleep.

"What are babies for?" She questions.

"Uhm... Babies... are for mommies & daddies to love & play with. Then they grow up to be big girls, like you."

"My was a little baby?"

"Yep. You were my little baby. And now you're my very sweet, big girl and some day, you'll grow up and be even bigger, like mommy."

"My be a mommy?!!!!" I cannot add enough exclamation points here to illustrate her excitement.

"Yes, baby. You'll be a mommy. And a grandma when you're older."

"What about a daddy? Can my be a daddy, too?!"

"Boys are daddies, baby. Girls are mommies. Which one will you be?"

"My's a girl. Can be a mommy!! My's so excited! You ready, mommy?" She questions as she grabbed my face and pressed her nose to mine.

Am I ready?

Hell, no. Holy hell, no.
Good lord, they grow up fast.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Somedays I wish I had a clone... but I know I couldn't live with the bitch.

Recently, I struggle with time management... ok. There may be a little motivation issue, too... but mostly I'm just feeling worn out. I'm dating a great single father with full custody of his daughter and with the distance and schedules between us; we've been locked into a weekend romance. Problem is this; the weekends are the only time I have to get anything done.

It’s difficult to not step on toes or hurt feelings when trying to manage two households and maintain sanity. I feel like I've slid into a nice little funk... it worries me. I can't lie. How many times have you heard your friends, or yourself, comment on how much individuality was lost during such and such relationship? I've done it before. It’s far too easy to become comfortable in the new collective and abandon all other responsibilities and interests.  Even the simple things in my life have been neglected. You should have seen the cobwebs and the spider I had to sword fight just to post this.

Now, don't get me wrong. I've enjoyed my distraction. Relish it even. Perhaps, I'm just pushing out of that cocoon new lovers wrap themselves in, but I fear an issue starting to arise. Because our daily schedules are so vastly different, when he's ready to settle down and have brilliant conversations... I've just gotten home and have a shit-ton of strings to tie up. Some nights I'm so tired and cranky from the hoops of the day a simple "goodnight" is all I have the energy for. 

If you have any snippets of brilliance you’d like to share, I’m ready, man. Advice. Stories. Cute little cartoon pictures… or perhaps you’d like to donate some time? I could set up a donation link… it’ll be classy.

Tapeworms are what keep me thin.

I heart the sideways glances I get when people learn I don’t have cable television [and I have no plans to, either].

We all bitch about the effects of reality television and how it stagnates our brains. We complain about television raising our children [and God help us, for that]. Our daughters, sisters and girlfriends frown each morning in the mirror thinking of the Heidi’s, Lindsay’s and Kim’s. But my favorite part of all is this: we invite it in. We make it dinner and ask it to stay the night. And when the world bears down on us, we turn to it to console us.

When will we realize there are healthier options? Just because it’s there, doesn’t mean you have to watch/read/listen/buy/abuse it. But, it’s so much easier to sit and melt away; complaining of this bullshit society flings and wonder where our yesteryear morals have escaped to, isn’t it?

Its amazing how much of yourself you find when you stop letting pop-culture tell you who you should be.

{Jumps off soap box} I seem to be spending a lot of time on that thing lately. Next time I’ll bring my markers to make it look a little prettier. Decorate it Lisa Frank style, eh @jelliebraden?

Song of the moment:

Pet Shop Boys – I’m With Stupid.

...the taste still dances on my tongue.

The night before Thanksgiving 2007, having the holiday to ourselves, J and I were at the grocery store shopping for our dinner festivities the next night. Laughing and carrying all our groceries inside, my phone rang and although I am a multi-talented girl, the talent of juggling grocery bags, the door and the phone eluded me that night. Once safe inside and possessing the ability to use both my hands freely, I checked my voice mail. It was from Spencer, Addi's father.

Spencer: "We're in an ambulance on the way to the hospital."

His voice was hurried, stressed. If it were a physical being, you would surely see it collapsed in the corner, sobbing. Questions flooded my head. For whom; him or Addison? What hospital? Why? What the fuck?

Several attempts later, I finally made contact with Spencer. The fear and sadness in his voice confirmed the worst and encouraged the growing knot in my stomach; something had happened to Addison. She had collapsed, had a Grand Mal Seizure and had stopped breathing.

The trip to the hospital is a blur. I merely remember everything as an echo. I only saw black.

We were sent home after a few minor tests and some papers containing multiple prescriptions and a diagnosis of "Febrile Seizure." There wasn't much sleep to be had that night. Worry was at the edge of all our words and fear consumed our thoughts.

The following morning, I received another call from Spencer. Addison had another seizure and they were on their way to the ER again. By the time J and I arrived, she had had another seizure. Spencer was a wreck, rightly so, and promptly disappeared once we arrived to collect the pieces of himself he'd dropped on the way in. Given that it was a holiday, the neurologist was in Aruba or Bermuda or some equally far and beautiful location. Addi was moved to PICU and hooked to every wire and machine the hospital had on that floor, while we waited to be shipped to the nearest hospital with an available neurologist. Just as we settled in, she had her final seizure for the night... the first I had to witness.

Fear is often such a small word, completely unable to capture the desperation and immobilization of a moment. Addison is such a strong willed and spirited child, to watch confusion and panic consume her face and leave her limp and exhausted tore my world apart. Even now, writing this, I sit here crying... still unable to cope with the horror.

Addison has had a total of 4 "incidents". Each time, there is a series of 4 seizures. Each time, it takes 6 nurses to restrain her for an IV. Each time, I am awed by the emotional strength of this little person. We've been through several tests, lost count over sleepless nights, tested several daycares, and comforted far too many terrified cries. We're a year free now, but with each illness, I brace myself and prepare for the worst. I wonder, often, if that fear is something I will ever let go of.

Recently, I met a new friend whose son has similar, but more severe seizures. He's also been in a remission of sorts. Yesterday, there was momentary panic throughout his home as a situation all too familiar popped up.  Things like this take your legs away, leave you breathless and covered in emotional vulnerability. Listening to his worries, I was reminded of my own with Addison and now want nothing more than to hold that quirky, lively little Monkey of mine.

Hang in there NotSteve. Hugs to you and your family.

{Insert dramatic sigh here} Help! I need a mommy... or a daddy!!

It goes without saying that I love my daughter more than anything. And I truly do believe she’s a very well behaved child, respectful and appreciative... all the things I could hope for.

But...

She’s the biggest dilly-dallier I’ve ever met. It takes her 15 minutes to put her boots on. They slip on. Addi and I are always running late and I’m trying my best to not bang my head on the wall every morning or scream and air kick my way out the door, but its really starting to become a problem.

My patient pants are so hard to wear sometimes. Any suggestions/coping mechanisms out there? I know all parents have encountered this at one point or another.

How do you keep your cool and not overheat?

Dear Self, Remember This.

Today, Joshy and I, put on our proverbial Thanksgiving hat and celebrated one of the many things we're most thankful for:

My little Monkey.

 

Each year her daycare holds a feast for the parents and it is highly entertaining to see the children in their environment, interacting with their teachers and friends.

Telling one of her many "stories", no doubt. Yesterday, Addi told me how her teacher Ms. Katy went to Joshy's house and they were baking cookies.

I forgot to ask him about that.

I think she just did.

These two crack me up. Its awesome sometimes to just sit back and watch the little girl she's becoming. She can hold her own in just about any situation and if you're not laughing your ass off at the end of a conversation with her, there is genuinely something wrong with you.

"Knock. Knock..."
"Wanna see my party?"

They weren't joking when they said there was going to be a test later.

Is it possible to create confidence while under influence?

I was talking with a friend the other day about weight and calories and all that crap that so many women care about. I walked away with two thoughts…

First was: within the last year and a half, I literally cannot remember a time I looked in the mirror and told myself I needed to lose weight or really even gave a rat’s ass about how my body looked. For a girl who forced her lunch up throughout her teens and overindulged to the point of obesity in her early twenties, I’m pretty proud of where I am now. So what if I have a mommy belly that’s determined to nevereverever snap back and a little extra junk in the trunk… I am woman. Hear me roar…and step away from my burger, dammit.

Second thought was: Shit.

Raising my daughter to be confident and strong in this superficial world is going to take more work than I anticipated and boy! I've anticipated a lot.  I laugh at the irony of this, though; the little girl who never left the house alone, cried herself to sleep because her step-dad / sister / husband / neighbor’s first-cousin’s best-friend’s mother said something once to make me feel insecure, molding a highly impressionable little girl. We’re starting with the ‘What Not to Do’ version, I guess.  I have a beautiful daughter… inside and out. And each time I hear my girlfriends fret and stew over their appearance, I can’t help but think of Addi… and it forces me to loudly and sometimes, dramatically, sigh.

My great-grandmother once told me something that had to do with regretting worrying so much about her appearance in her youth because by the time she had the maturity to just be herself, she was too old to enjoy that emotional freedom. I was too young and affected to pay attention to what she was saying then… my demons were drowning her out.  If only I had paid more attention to her… to all my grandmothers… when I was younger, I could lean on their words for some footing here.

Ever since that conversation with my girlfriend, I’ve been thinking about the how’s and the why’s, trying to come up with ideas and practices to start engaging in for my daughters benefit.  And because I talk to myself all the time… well, silently… but still… my internal voices keep asking random questions. Why do we women chain ourselves down with these ridiculous notions about weight and appearance?  Is it the men we’re trying to impress? Each other? Is it the negative influence of those damn Kardashians and the Lohan’s?  Why do we limit ourselves so much and let these societal influences control us?  And who, what, when and where did I stop caring?

The part that burns me… the part that makes me want to grab the microphone and start rapping on top of my soap box is why are we settling and letting someone or something else dictate how we present ourselves? When did we, as a culture, become so arrogant that we thought we had the right to force out individuality and uniqueness?

Just one more single momma with a lot on her mind.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about other people. More specifically, their opinions about how we raise our children as single parents. I've been sitting on this post for a couple weeks and Ms Single Mama beat me to the punch the other day with her brilliant post, My Decision. Once again, we seem to be living in parallel universes. I guess at some point we all encounter this situation… single parents or not. Someone, somewhere always has an opinion about how you’re raising your child and the ways in which you are failing.

I became virtually introduced to Ms Single Mama a couple years ago when she first started blogging… blogging about raising her little boy alone. At the time, my daughter was very little and I was merely emotionally alone. I had a partner, who was doing the best he could. I just couldn’t see it. Becoming a mother was the scariest and most brilliant moment of my life and I sought refuge and gained strength and insight from her words.

I’ve been blogging for a while… December 2006, I believe was my first post. It originated from the notion of keeping family and friends on the west coast apprised of the change and discoveries within our life here in Chicago, but actually turned out to be a door to one of the greatest support systems I’ve ever experienced.

I’ve a handful of friends who get all dreamy when they think about raising their kids alone… no partner to appease, come and go as you please, etc. It makes me laugh when they see it as something glamorous. Wasn’t it just a few years ago being a single mother was the equivalent of wearing the Scarlet A?

Truth is there isn’t much that’s easy about this. There’s the balance between work and home – working just enough to keep the electricity on and still spend quality time with your kid. Questions you’re not ready to answer – why doesn’t daddy live here? The constant wonder of how your decisions will shape their future. And then there’s the dating. And most of us just give up on it. But then when we’ve no date for Thanksgiving dinner we’re up against all the looks and the age-old idea that a child needs two live-in parents in order to result in a healthy functioning member of society. It’s exhausting. But it’s still the best damn job I’ve ever had.

This blog of mine has now become my little corner of the world where I say what I want about whom and rant about the things that aggravate me and work through any lingering questions or emotions I might have while showing off the best of me; my daughter. It’s unrealistic to think that this blog accurately exemplifies my everyday life. It is simply the Swiss cheese representation. There are literally 2 maybe 3 other people in my life who get the rest of the “cheese”, if you will. They know the background stories; why becoming a mother was so scary for me; they know why, when and whom raised my emotional wall and they are fully aware of what it will take to tear it down, they see the interaction with my daughter, they know her and how stable and amazing she is. Point is… these are people who get it… the work, the dedication, the sacrifices, the emotional strain and triumph these Spencer girls have gone through.

Sure, I put my stories out here, let everyone draw their conclusions… and some fail to see the whole picture and take things at face value. But then there are the others, that read, ask and interact… and it’s your selflessness, intelligence and compassion that I love about this whole adventure. There are always nay-sayers, people who attack with prejudice and inexperience. There are always those that don’t understand your vision and appreciate your struggles… and being the stubborn woman that I am with the schedule that I maintain, I’ve just no time or patience for such arrogance.

Insecurity raises my defenses, but Ms Single Mama said it best in her post ‘when you’re up against a pre-conceived image of yourself how do you fight that?’ I’m a damn good mother and I’m not going to live in fear of a few sideways opinions. My daughter is healthy, happy and loves life. She’s intelligent and compassionate, stubborn and strong-willed. She’s resilient. Just like her mommy. And that’s the way... uh huh uh huh… I like it.

Hugs to all my readers; supporters and otherwise. You all keep me going… even if it is in different ways.

Let me give you a hand... letting yourself out.

One thing most men simply do not seem to understand about me: I loath playing emotional or mental games. Are you looking for a one night stand? Looking for the proverbial white picket fence and 2.5 kids, soccer practice and Girl Scout cookies? Just want someone available to watch the random movie with? Just tell me. I understand these wants and needs change, too. Just keep me informed. Why does there need to be so many layers to everything?

I recently spent some time with The Candy Man and I will never forget the feeling I had when I woke up in the morning; looked at the clock, at him sleeping, left and sent him a text telling him I didn’t want to wake him but it was nice seeing him again. Driving home, had I not been so tired I would have giggled. This is what honesty feels like with a man? Hold on… even now I need a celebratory drink. I love adult moments.

I’ve been asked a lot recently, why I haven’t been dating and everyone has someone I just have to meet, but I’m not interested. I’m on hiatus. Honestly. And I fucking love it here.

Somewhere, I read a quote that said something along the lines of “the times you feel the loneliest are the times you need to be alone the most” and that replays in my head daily. I became so codependent with J it’s embarrassing. It truly is. I did meet two really great guys and I blew my chances with both because of this. The first? Candy Man… easy. Met him a week after J and I broke up… raw and full of it. I simply transferred my codependency on to him. And with Carl, I pushed him away (actually, it was more like kicked and ran away from) to keep from doing it again.

I felt and still feel that I needed to stand on my own for a while to truly appreciate having someone else in my life. 17 when I married. 26 when I divorced. By that time I was already involved with a man I was convinced I was going to marry. March 2009, birthday present to my 28 year old self? My own place full of my own stuff. Hello to growing up! That is what I am doing. There are days I am so tired and stressed and feel like crawling in my empty tub to bawl, but when I go to bed at night, I feel a sense of accomplishment I’ve never known before. Right now...I’m in love with those butterflies.

Yes, I am a single mother with a full-time job, but I also have essentially 4 other part-time jobs. I don’t have time to figure out where these adventures are going or to worry about whether or not some Joe is going to call me. What little time I do have is reserved for a precious little piece of me… and I need to make damn sure I know where its going if I’m directing it away from her.

Someday, I will meet the man that blows me away and slows me down… I’m not in a hurry, though. I’m, not so secretly anymore, looking forward to more dinners of peanut butter and pickle sandwiches and roaming through my apartment in my wife beater, boxers and unshaven legs.

Yeah I went there... {giggles}

Leaving shadows... heavy shadows.

[Disclaimer: This post has been laying around my apartment, in the form of random note sheets and various text messages, since the first week of August. My. My. My. What a slacker I have turned out to be. No real reason, other than lacking in time. So, please don’t read into that… and now… back to August 4, 2009.]

So, today I received a message from The Boy today telling me he’d quit social networking and was venturing out into the real world. Kudos. High five. Good for him.

We decided the best place for him was helping keep my friend bench warm. As I’ve told him before, I’m not sure what I’m looking for so I like this arrangement better... fewer expectations, assumptions and rules.

He then texted me to confess he never thought we would have worked out anyways. Ok. Now you have my attention. Was I about to get an honest confession or simply a response filled with insecurity and anger, like so many before?

Him: You seem fixated on raising your daughter alone and more power to you and just based on what I’ve read and talked to you about, you don’t seem to be ready to settle down and honestly if you’re happy that’s all that matters. Plus, I don’t really get some aspects of your life and I don’t make judgments but some of them make me uncomfortable. I realize J was there when Addi was born and I realize he helped raise her for a year. Just seems weird that he still watches and picks her up, etc. He’s not her real parent and I just wonder if in 3 years he has kids of his own and finds out he doesn’t have time for her, how it will adversely affect her.

{Scratches head} Uhm.

For starters, I don’t want to raise my daughter alone… but I’m not going to let just anyone help in this. You don’t get a do-over and I see the ways in which my childhood has left its scars and I wish someone had taken a little more care with that. In a way, yes, Boy, you are correct. Until I find someone I trust with all of me, daughter included, I will remain fixated on raising her alone… which also answers, why I do not seem ready to settle down.

It’s the J aspect I really want to discuss. I’d be over the moon with some input here, too, from the parents that have been here, are struggling with this too. Heck, even if you’re not and you’ve got something to contribute to this… do it. You will totally make my day. [How’s that for soliciting comments?]

J is not Addi’s father. He was my best friend and roommate when she was born. Her father and I were separated. Both were in the room the day she was born. The day after her birth, a much quieter and sincere version of J appeared in my hospital room, to tell me he wanted to help me… help me raise my daughter. And that he loved me. Gorgeous baby and the man of dreams in less than 24 hours? I don’t remember what I said, but I’m certain I muttered and spoke as eloquent as a chimp reading Spanish upside down.

That was it. For nearly two years, both her father and J walked and worked side by side with me taking care of Addison… sometimes picking up more than their share when I was overwhelmed and losing balance. To her, J was just as much a father as her own. I genuinely believe he loves her and would do just as much for her as he would his own.

When J and I broke up and I moved out, the first 2 months were brutal on both Addi and I. She often stood, forehead pressed against our glass door, looking for him. Asking where he was and even crying for him. Regardless of any differences that J and I have had, he maintains a relationship with Addison and doesn’t treat her any differently than he ever has. I believe we have all settled into a much more comfortable place with the roles we play in one another’s life and I greatly value the influence J is on Addison.

So, with the significantly condensed version of the relationship between them, how can I cut that? Why would I want to? How selfish that would be on my part to take that away from her. J still is a great friend of mine, and yes, for the 3 guys that made it past date 1, he was always a problem. I understand their concern and even understand the twinge of jealousy, but if we all have the same interests at heart; one being her happiness, it seems selfish and immature of them to not understand the need for that relationship to continue… its not about me and him… its about her and him.

Are there any parents that have been in this situation or something similar present? I would love advice, criticism…thoughts in general on this. Am I really being too idealistic here? Can we all co-exist peacefully?

[Footnote: The Boy’s honesty and integrity is amazing. I appreciate the angle from which he views things and for this reason, he will always be ranked high on my friend list.]

Who shall I point the finger at; Nature or Nurture? {giggles}

This picture cracks me up! It is such a great visual representation of my daughter. Each night she comes home, she lines her shoes up. She is very organized and clean for a child... after dinner; she puts her dishes in the sink and wipes down the table. She scolds me when my room is a mess, which is often. But Addi has the greatest sense of humor and even though it frustrates me, when the moment gets too tense, she inevitably finds a way to relieve the tension.

When I saw her shoes lined up this way this morning, I couldn’t help but laugh. I had just finished telling her that I wanted all the toys and miscellaneous b.s. (of course I was more eloquent with her) cleaned up. The randomness of the shoes lined up in the middle of the living room, with one pair out of synch and another backwards, was just her sarcastic way of saying “Sure Mom… whatever you say.”

 

I'd like to be under the sea...in an octopus' garden in the shade.

Five days of September left. {sigh} We've not been getting along. I feel like it tricked me... saw I was down and took a cheap shot. It used to be my favorite month… the month of birth, rebirth and mad passionate love. Next year, I’m taking Monkey on a secret vacation and we’re putting September in a time out. "We would sing and dance around because we know we can't be found..."

September started off with an incredibly handsome stranger. It was a whirlwind week. Men don’t typically knock the wind out of me, at least not from the first handshake. It was a nice change. I heard through the grapevine he went back to his ex… guess that explains why I never heard from him again. Kudos to them, though. When you find someone you love, hold on with both hands and fight… kicking and screaming for them if you have to. It doesn’t happen every day. Honestly, I’m not even upset with him. I genuinely hope things work out. How silly is that?

My baby is growing up. This month that fact was a little harder to accept and made more obvious. Addi turned three this month. She’s taller than anyone else in the 3-4 year old room, she wears size 6 pants, weighs 47 pounds and as she told me this morning, can cook breakfast and drive me to school if I want her to. She took 4 four stitches to the head on her birthday. Internally, I freaked. Freaked. I still get teary eyed about it even now. I need to get a hold of myself some times.

This month would have been our 3 year anniversary. My camera broke...that feels like someone took a limb of mine. After a little week of flirtatious banter with an old flame, I watched said flame make-out with another woman. I’ve been blown off 6 times this month, 4 times by the same man. One day I’ll just walk away, I fear. And this… this is actually what has been consuming my mind lately. I’ve benched myself while working out a tough decision. This bench is getting cold and still, I cannot figure out what to do.

My maternal instincts are kicking in and I don’t want to see her heartbroken. But I also don’t think I can deal with mine being broken again either. So, if I stay, whose best interest am I serving? If I go… same question.

{Rubs hands together} Bring on October!

  The Beatles - Octopus' Garden

Laugh when you can... its cheaper than medicine.

My daughter is slightly accident prone. {rolls eyes sarcastically} And by slightly I mean very. At least 3 times a week she comes home with an accident report. Banged her head on the toilet while going potty, went head first down the slide and scratched her chin, tripped over the rug and bruised her knee… or simply, “We don’t know how she got this bruise. One minute it wasn’t there… the next, her arm is turning purple.”

This time, Addi was playing and hit her head on a shelf. She walked over to her babysitter and just stood there... wide eyed. As soon as her babysitter saw what happened, she panicked, given the amount of blood and I think that's when it set in for Addi as well. I was told tales of tears... but it sounds like it was more fear than pain. Nothing stops her... not even her bleeding head. Once her daycare applied the band-aid, she ran off to play with her friends.

4:55p - {sigh} Happy birthday to Addi. School called to tell me she slipped and fell... and has a very large gash on her forehead. To the ER stat!

[picture via J, who upon hearing news of incident, rushed to Addi's daycare to see how she was]

5:40p - {sigh} thanks for the heart attack. Addi appears to be fine and not in any pain. To the park we go!

After stopping at the park for a little game of tag with J, Addi & I went home to change the band-aid and begin the birthday festivities.. but no. The gash on her head had other ideas.

7:15pm - So, upon further inspection by the mommy figure we’re going to get stitches for Addi's forehead.

Waiting in the ER for stitches. Best way to spend your birthday. :)

Addi was the most lively person in the waiting room. She played with the toys, singing Happy Birthday to herself. One father even questioned which one of us was waiting… said she may just be the most cheerful kid he’s ever encountered. I’d like to think so, but then again… I am partial. We took Addi’s stats, too… 42 inches tall & 45 lbs. One nurse commented while stitching her head, “this may be the largest 3 year old I’ve ever seen!”

Still waiting... Hour 2.

She found a little boyfriend. What a flirt!

After sitting for 2.5 hours, we finally got a bed and a nurse. Addi thought she was the coolest little monkey ever sitting on the bed with the remote control. We didn’t have cake tonight, but she won the heart of one of the male nurses and he substituted cookies from the vending machine… complete with song, too.

Monkey's home and tucked in my bed. 4 stitches & 3 hours later. Nurse said I was calmest parent all day...she obviously can't read minds.

Whoa means nothing to a Swedish horse... or a growing three-year old.

The lights went out this weekend and at the home of the Spencer girls, that could only mean one thing... time to build a fort. We pulled all the dinning room chairs into my bedroom and covered them with our spare blankets. We ate dinner with our flashlights, read stories and ate tootsie rolls.

Addi's been asleep for hours, but I'm still sitting under our fort. I can't help but laugh because the image of this, me sitting Indian style under a bunch of blankets surrounded by all my daughters’ beloved stuffed friends, is the near physical representation of something that's been bothering me for a while now. My baby's growing up, way too fast, and it's only going to be but a moment longer before she's no longer my baby girl, my monkey... and she's off on her own doing big girl things.

I have a little confession... Addi sleeps with me nearly every night. She falls asleep in her own bed, without a fuss... just like my little angel, and around 11pm when I go to bed, I pick her up and bring her to bed with me. I know... what the heck am I thinking, right? I feel like I'm missing so much with her. I love that her father is so active with her and sees her as often as he does, but sometimes my selfish side kicks in and I wish I could steal away more time.

She's turning three in one month; moving to pre-school; too big to wear toddler sizes and is quite certain she could take care of herself some days. I think it’s safe to say I'm taking her turning three harder than I will me turning thirty.

Exercising my big mouth and the freedom to use it.

Brooke Burke is known as today's modern mother? Since when? And what makes her so worthy of such a title?

This irritates me. Celebrity moms drive me nuts... so its soapbox time. I stayed home with Addi today and actually told a friend "stay-at-home mothers were either super-heroes or a few fries short of a happy meal." It's exhausting; emotionally, mentally and physically to give that much of yourself to someone each day. So, today, while taking a break I looked over one of the feed folders for just such an occasion, 'No Brains Required'. It's a mash-up of celebrity blogs and fashion nonsense that I have compiled around the Internet. I really don't buy into that crap, but some of my friends do and well... it's great mindless fodder.

My "me time" was quickly broken up by the smiling faces of the Holmes', Klume's, Alba's, Fischer's, and Hayek's running to and fro in their marvelous frocks and perfect hair chatting up what a blessing motherhood is and how it's changed their lives. How? Now instead of having an entourage of 15, you have 20: the nanny for child a, the nanny for child b, the nutritionist, their driver and their personal bodyguard? How much time must they spend in the gym to get that silver screen body back? I hardly doubt their infant is at their feet while they are running away on the treadmill. It must be exhausting running from salon to spa to boutique while some lady your Agent or Publicist chose to watch your "little miracle" stays behind playing peek-a-boo. They've landed the ultimate acting gig.

I hate Hollywood. I hate magazine covers and fashion ads. But most of all, I hate reading stories of these mothers who don't spend enough time with their children and are the reason so many of our children are starving themselves and giving in... giving in and never feeling worthy enough. I went through all of that as a child and even as a very young adult; starving, hating, cutting, disappearing. Now as a mother, its being thrown in my face again? Brooke Burke is Today's Modern Mother? No way.... I throw rocks at that.