I announced last week that I’m leaving my day job to become a full-time blogger/freelancer.
I also announced the sale of our new leaf necklace.
There are only 40 left.
I will be ordering another round so don’t worry about them running out. And I’ll also try to make them in silver. Ideally I’d like to, one day, offer them in real gold and silver – or maybe even platinum. But until then our little necklace will do just fine.
I started this blog nearly two years ago on a lonely night in my apartment with a glass of wine in hand and an idea… to share my story so that other single moms wouldn’t repeat my mistakes, whatever they may be.
In all of that time, in all of the stories I’ve told and the comments I’ve read I don’t think I’ve ever actually been moved to tears – until now… your support in the comments of this post and this post got me good. I can’t say thank you enough.
Now onwards and upwards… to a little story from this weekend.
On Memorial Day Benjamin and I went to the only beach we could find. Determined to get him to water and sand we drove one hour to get there.
We’re sitting on the same beach my father used to take us when we were kids (and look, there’s the necklace too)… anyway the beach is still exactly the same, but much, much more crowded.
On the way there Benjamin had asked me a question he’s been repeating a lot lately, “Mommy, where is your daddy.”
“He’s gone, baby.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s not here any more.”
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I decided to just tell him, given the fact that it was Memorial Day and all and given the fact that he really wouldn’t understand anyway and also given the fact that he just kept asking.
“He died, Benjamin, he’s gone but he is still here and he loves you very, very much.”
“He died?” he asks me shocked and then, “Did a bad guy kill him?”
“No. Not really.”
“Yes, a bad guy killed him Mommy, bad guy.”
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
“Okay. You’re right, a bad guy killed him and his name is Cancer.”
“No, he got killed by the Green Eyed Man, Mommy.”
“Yeah, the bad guy from Bolt. Sure Benjamin, sounds good.”
A few minutes later we were on the beach with it’s grainy sand. I dove into the water expecting to feel the clay mushing between my toes like I did when I was a kid. I couldn’t stay in long enough to find the clay because Benjamin was freaking out back on the beach, “Come back, Mommy!!!! Come back.”
I had actually told him to watch our stuff so I could take a swim.
Back on the towel about an hour later and right before we started digging a giant hole with our make shift beach toys
Benjamin told me he had to go pee.
Unable to leave all of our stuff and knowing we wouldn’t make it as far as the nearest potty anyway, I told him to run to the water. I expected him to just know he should take a quick swim and pretend like he was doing something else.
But why would a three-year-old know to do that? Why would he know beach etiquette? He wouldn’t. Instead he pulled down his pants and then heard his mommy shouting, “Nooooooooo.”
But he had to keep going.
To the shock and awe of all of the people with a clear view of his naked self but to the pure delight of all of the fathers on the beach. All of them were laughing their bellies off which means my dad would have been laughing too – laughing at this boy, who despite the fact that there isn’t a man around all of the time is every bit of a mini-man.
Somehow you just can’t mess that part up.