by mssinglemama on August 24, 2008
When I found Kristin’s blog we had both taken opposite sides in a debate on fake wedding rings. I made some ridiculous comments, as I often do… fortunately she forgave me and although we never found common ground on that issue we moved past our differences only to realize that we have a lot in common.
“Are you sure you’re not a slightly younger, darker version of myself?” she wrote me once. I agreed. Aside from our feelings on wedding bands, the similarities between us are eerie.
I am now, along with thousands of others, completely hooked to her blog. Her writing is humble, powerful and single mom or not, it shakes you to your core, stirs your emotions and immediately hooks you into wondering what awaits Kristin, her brother and her adorable 3-year-old son, Nolan.
Today she is sharing a story with us that you won’t find on her blog – the story of how Kristin met Nolan’s father, someone she has recently found the power to forgive. Please read every word of this…
Shattering, Shattered, Grateful
By Kristin, single mother and author of Better Now
The concert had just started and I was standing at the makeshift bar at the back of the auditorium, 
contemplating the merits of beer versus vodka coolers. I was on the tail-end of a crumpled three year relationship, twenty-eight and wired, standing with a plethora of bar-star girlfriends, giddy with the surrounding pulse of music, adrenaline, and young male sweat.
“Heineken?” I glanced over at my friend Mel, black hair shining over one shoulder, leaning over shouting into the ear of another friend, already tipsy from ciders and pizza at the adjoining pub.
She turned to look at me. “Sure!”
I pulled out a crumpled ten and took two beers from the ice tub, about to nod at the beleaguered bartender when I saw him.
He stood half a foot above the crowd, wearing a short-sleeved green t-shirt and a blue baseball hat, low on his eyes. His hair was black and curled around his ears. Square jaw, rippling arm muscles and his greenbrown eyes suddenly met mine and something fused in the blue laser of the indie band and my heart froze, useless. I stood melded to the spot as if in a warbled dream. I don’t know what I was feeling, exactly, but I knew it was overwhelming and that I’d never felt it before. He grinned and walked straight toward me and then past, next to Mel in line for the bar. He stooped down and said something to her and I stood with ice-cold beer hands, incredulous. Then he walked a few steps away.
“Holy shit,” I turned toward her, adrenaline racing,”Who the hell was that? You know him?”
“Funny,” she said,”He just said the exact same thing to me.” [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on August 23, 2008
You all know being a single parent is one of the toughest obstacle courses life can throw at you… and one of my favorite single dads and friend, Jim Everson of Depot Dad, agreed to write about his first few months in Single Parent Boot Camp.
I took this picture of Jim on my trip to San Francisco, the cave reminded me of this post… there is ALWAYS a light at the end of every tunnel and I think Jim is finally able to see his!
“Keep your butt down, soldier, or it’ll get shot off some day!”
That’s prudent advice in any endeavor actually and….what’s that? You don’t know about Single Parent Boot Camp? Well have a seat and let me give you a first hand account of the experience as I still navigate the barb-wire training course of single parenting.
I first arrived at Camp Cantwinfertryin last March.
110 degrees in the shade and all you get for supper is a steady helping of grief. Each day starts off with a 20km hike while carrying a 60 pound pack filled with pressures, fears, and worries. But its not all bad, since the camaraderie of the recruits is unrivaled in any organization.
Without a doubt the most difficult part of single parent training is the obstacle course. So they are:
The Tire Tread Mill
You have to hold a load of laundry and a bag of groceries up over your head while running through a field of tires. I hustled through this one as quickly as I could. I lifted my knees high. I landed in the center of each tire. In a few minutes I was across the yard. That’s when the Sarge yelled,
“Now get back to the beginning, Rookie, and do it again! You’re a single parent – you’re never finished being TIREd! HAR HAR HAR!” [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on August 22, 2008
Jane Wonder, the author of Confessions of a One Date Wonder (a personal favorite of mine) isn’t a single mom but she is a dating expert. I love her blog because she’s brutally honest about her emotions including the ups and downs of falling in love and breaking up. She’s also hilarious and writes about EVERYTHING. Here’s her take on how best to recover from a break up.
Dead Men Walking
Unfortunately when it comes to breaking up, there is no magic bullet. 
No one sure fire way to erase the pain and move on. No path to avoid longing, or pain, or heart break. And no way to erase memories. It’s going to hurt. And anyone who tells you otherwise is a filthy liar. The only thing you can do is to develop a way to survive through the time it will take for your heart to mend again. And that’s what I’ve been invited here to talk about with you today. Because, of course, I have an opinion on this.
My breakup philosophy is pure and simple like the freshly fallen snow, and it is called Dead To Me (DTM). DTM is a straightforward philosophy both simple in name and premise. Practice is deceptively difficult. In short, your new ex is now dead to you. No longer exists. *poof*
First you must explain DTM to all of your friends. Surely they have all been there, all love you, and all believe that ex was never good enough for you anyway. They will help to distract you, keep from talking endlessly about him, and definitely keep you from contacting him.
Regarding contact, here is the thing: Your ex is dead (to you).
We do not call the dead on the telephone. We do not send the dead emails. We do not text the dead when we are drunk. The dead are beyond these means of communication. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on August 21, 2008
When you’re a dating single mom there is arguably, nothing worse than being hurt by a man.
Sometimes that hurt is unintentional. We both enter into the relationship or fling with the best of intentions. But sometimes a jerk sneaks in and shatters your world. One of my favorite single moms in the blogosphere, QT Mama, has some tips on how to spot a jerk in the wild.
Fried Eggs On a Nail
I have heard of Green Eggs and Ham, oh yes I have Sam-I-Am. I have a five year old, who hasn’t? But what 
I had not heard, until recently, is the phrase “Fried Eggs on a Nail.”
These words were uttered by a friend of mine, who for the purpose of this story, I’ll call Sam. I need to preface this by saying that Sam, is most certainly and in every definition of the word – a JERK.
He knows it, he knows I think it, and he knows that I’m writing about it. But he’s my friend, and I love him for what and who he is, and for me, it’s a good man. But I’m not dating him.
Today, Sam asked me the following question:
“So are you still propping those big bigs up to make sure everyone notices?!!”
He is asking me about my breasts. I tell him yes, my breasts are fine and fabulous, thank you. His response? “That’s rare these days, good for you. The 32-year-old (his most recent fling) was not as fortunate. Nothing worse than fried eggs on a nail.”
And there it is, the prime example of a real, honest to goodness jerk. So I asked him to explain to me, exactly, what did that mean? He said, “Well, when nice tits go bad, they sag and they resemble what a fried egg would look like were it nailed to a wall.” And yet again, I shake my head and think “Those poor women. They have no idea what they are in for.” He is THAT guy, the one I avoid. The Jerk.
Read more to find out how single moms can spot jerks. [click to continue…]
contemplating the merits of beer versus vodka coolers. I was on the tail-end of a crumpled three year relationship, twenty-eight and wired, standing with a plethora of bar-star girlfriends, giddy with the surrounding pulse of music, adrenaline, and young male sweat.
