Fresh Start Contest

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e story each of you has one simple reply, “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e story each of you has one simple reply, “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood.  (The super hero girl is NOT me).

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e story each of you has one simple reply, “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood.  (The super hero girl is NOT me).

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e story each of you has one simple reply, “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood.  (The super hero girl is NOT me).

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e story each of you has one simple reply, “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood.  (The super hero girl is NOT me).

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e story each of you has one simple reply, “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood.  (The super hero girl is NOT me).

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e story each of you has one simple reply, “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood.  (The super hero girl is NOT me).

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e story each of you has one simple reply, “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood.  (The super hero girl is NOT me).

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger for WeTV.com. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the heart of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood. 

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.
One thing about a divorce or separation is the division of everything in the house.

Some things go. Some stay. Unlike the broken pieces of our hearts and souls… we can control our environment.

Undoubtedly one of the best ways to heal is to change things up. Paint. Decorate. Anything to get out with the old and in with the new. Mia has done a fantastic job of re-decorating her place already – next comes the paint – that will be our project this weekend.

In honor of Mia’s bare walls (I know you must have some too) I’m giving away two 18×24 poster prints courtesy of OnlinePosterPrinting.com.

Pretty cool.

I’m ordering a print of this picture (thanks Morgan).

——-

Far from Mia’s mind right now but certainly in her future lies the idea of actually getting back out there into the dating pool and ultimately sleeping with another man.

I don’t talk about sex much on this blog – for a reason – it’s just too personal and it’s a different experience for each of us. So in lieu of my inability to offer you detailed advice on taking that plunge – I’m going to give away five copies of Getting Naked Again by Judith Sills.

Here’s the book’s plug:

In Getting Naked Again, clinical psychologist and New York Times bestselling author Judith Sills, PhD, leads readers through each stage of the process, offering sophisticated advice and sharing insightful stories about women like you, who have experienced relationship loss and are successfully pursuing new romance. In this book, Sills offers a frank, funny, and unusually savvy look at midlife dating- including smart sexual strategies, predictable new relationship patterns, financial maneuvering, and interpersonal finesse. Be prepared: This is not your daughter’s dating guide.

I haven’t read it yet, not sure if I even need too… think I crossed that hurdle quite a while ago. But I know for many of you, it would probably be much needed since you’re new to single motherhood.

To enter:

Leave a comment. That’s it.

Deadline:

Wednesday January 14, 2009 at Midnight.

I’ll draw 7 random winners. Good luck! And I’m one step closer to giving each and every one of you a prize of some kind for reading… love giving shit away.

{ 1 trackback }

Sarah Jessica Parker - a single mom?
January 9, 2009 at 11:31 am

{ 71 comments… read them below or add one }

Rachel January 6, 2009 at 7:13 pm

I would LOVE a poster size print of my Melly and me!! Wow! That’d be awesome!

Reply

Missy January 6, 2009 at 7:17 pm

I love that pic of you and Benjamin…!! 🙂 I have two pics of me and my lady waiting to be framed so a free poster would rad!!

Keep the bloggin coming! I tune in every day…

Reply

Carolyn G January 6, 2009 at 7:34 pm

Gorgeous picture!

Reply

The Dumbest Smart Girl You Know January 6, 2009 at 7:43 pm

Ooh, ooh, pick me!

Reply

Dawn January 6, 2009 at 7:47 pm

I can’t wait to win. I’m following signposts. I’m headed to the bookstore. Thank God they are open til eleven. I have a date on Friday coming from France. Doesn’t even speak English, I HOPE she covers that part.

XoXo

Reply

christine January 6, 2009 at 7:50 pm

yes please

Reply

lilcyndiluwho January 6, 2009 at 8:02 pm

Me! Me!

Thanks for all the inspiration you offer to so many of us!

Reply

fraizerbaz January 6, 2009 at 8:31 pm

I always had to rearrange furniture when I severed romantic ties with someone. It made me feel almost like I was creating a new life for myself; starting over. Changing things up does help.

Reply

Miranda January 6, 2009 at 8:41 pm

Wow. What an amazing picture of you and Benjamin.

I second (third?) about re-arranging the furniture. It helps so much. Even when I’m just having a bad day, changing something helps a bit.

Reply

Julie January 6, 2009 at 8:55 pm

I would love to win a poster of me and the munchkin. Thanks!

Reply

Sara January 6, 2009 at 9:20 pm

I’m moving into a new place, and I would LOVE a wall size poster of my kiddies, pick me!

Reply

Hanna January 6, 2009 at 9:36 pm

I’ve been in my apartment for over a year now, and the only things on the walls are a calendar and a sarong I’ve resorted to covering up the white with. Oh, and LB’s artwork.

What a kick-ass website!

Reply

jen January 6, 2009 at 9:40 pm

I seriously need help in this area. It’s been FAR too long.

Reply

Khalid February 4, 2015 at 11:05 am

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Reply

Jamie January 6, 2009 at 10:00 pm

Your writing has quickly made its way into my everyday routine – I love reading your stories, they inspire me in so many ways! That book…oh, that book – I need it! 🙂

Reply

Oakland Mama January 6, 2009 at 10:41 pm

This one’s for Mia –

Your posts (and those via MSM) bring back my pain from a year ago. I know EXACTLY where you are. There were times when all I wanted to do in the world is lie in bed with my two boys and cry my eyes out.

But…a year later, I’m still standing. I feel strong. I have hope that my future – whether alone or with someone new – is a good one. You will be there a year from now (I promise) and you have a good friend to help you get there.

Oakland Mama

Reply

Sheila January 6, 2009 at 11:43 pm

Awesome contests!

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Aashutosh February 4, 2015 at 3:16 am

Ah so what do you make of Ta-Dah? I have to say I’m disappointed. But then how could they top Scissor Sisters? ? I thughot I had ordered the bog standard version, but it took an unreasonable amount of time to arrive and when it did it was a rather deluxe lift’ version which has a bonus disc of 6 tracks. Well 5 extra songs and a rather god-awful house mix of I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’. The bonus disc appears to have catchier songs than the main disc does. Go figure. But I think in general it has to be a grower and She’s My Man and Kiss You Off are obviously the singles . Feel free not to approve these comments by the way, I just guess this will be a nice way to keep in touch with you as I can comment on your everyday life now I really do like the idea of an image to express the entry and though it may at times be hard to find one that does it, you have succeeded very well so far.

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brad January 6, 2009 at 11:54 pm

Yay! Contest!

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Pixie MAMA January 7, 2009 at 12:46 am

Funny that this comes up now.
After 6 months of actuall sepparation he came this weekend and picked up the rest of his furniture and stuff. A few mor ethings that i am really connected to will go in the next couple of weeks too. Oh well it is all just stuff I tell myslef. But maybe part of my fund over the weekend and monday was my empty house. One ime I considered it over furnished now it seemed baree and cold. And that was exactly how I felt for a few days after.
I put the fire on….

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Carolyn January 7, 2009 at 6:11 am

Wow. My little house so badly needs some decor! I am the one that moved out and had to buy all new furnishings and start from scratch, since the Ex and I had been living with his GF (back before I knew they were cheating). Yikes. Long story. Anyway.

Pick me! Pick me! (I know it’s random.)

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jlh January 7, 2009 at 6:50 am

Mia, thoughts and prayers with you

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JOLENE January 7, 2009 at 7:01 am

Gotta love contests!!

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Wyliekat January 7, 2009 at 7:18 am

We’re still wall decorating, too. I’d love to have some nice prints!

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Molly January 7, 2009 at 7:45 am

I really enjoy your blog! And a free poster print…who wouldn’t love that?!

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Kelli January 7, 2009 at 9:37 am

I’ve never entered a contest on your site before-but I am into it!

I think you are so great.

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MommaMac January 7, 2009 at 9:42 am

Oh, Oh, Oh….me, me, me. I have ideas for poster size prints!!!

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Mia January 7, 2009 at 9:59 am

Anything new is good for me now. Poster size picture of my backbone maybe??

the book will come in handy someday for me, I hope, I hope. but not for a long time.

If I haven’t told you enough- I love you MSM. You make up at least 3 vertebrae of my backbone 🙂

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Kate January 7, 2009 at 11:01 am

I love that pic of you and Benjamin!

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Nomz January 7, 2009 at 11:03 am

Im so glad I found you! 🙂 I’d love to win either…if I dont, at least i have the name of the next book I need to check out! 😉

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shani January 7, 2009 at 11:04 am

This is an awesome idea!
thanks for letting us take the chance

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Ali January 7, 2009 at 11:04 am

Sign me up! I am in the troes of redecorating my new (to me) pad now. Would so love this!

And BTW, I have a novel coming to you about how much I love your blog. I have been a single momma for 9.5 years…and only recently did it occur to me..hey, I bet there are other single moms out there in cyber space…even if I cannot seem to find any in my silly little town! Alas, I found you and started at the beginning.

Keep the awesomeness coming.

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Ali January 7, 2009 at 11:05 am

throes. that should have said throes. not troes. or toes! ha. sometimes my fingers get so excited i cannot slow them down.

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goin-crazy January 7, 2009 at 11:05 am

I remember the “starting over” days very painfully. Trying to rid your life of any daily reminder of your failure but still keeping enough that the kids don’t get upset. The first attempt at a relationship (which I failed miserably), first holiday, birthday parties.

My backbone is a little stronger because of all of it.

MSM-Thanks for the contest.

Mia-Hang in there. It does get easier. I cannot guarantee that it will happen soon but it will happen!

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Kat January 7, 2009 at 11:09 am

Very cool giveaway, consider me entered. 🙂

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caroline January 7, 2009 at 11:21 am

This would be great for my office! Thanks so much!

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Shan January 7, 2009 at 11:25 am

I have way too much white space on the walls and nothing to cover it. Thanks!

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CME January 7, 2009 at 12:12 pm

Oh I would SOOO love the book. It’s been a year that my ex and I ended our relationship and I’m starting to feel like I’m ready to date again and well, you know have sex, but I am scared! It’s been so long…If I don’t win it, I guess I will by it. =)

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Tami January 7, 2009 at 12:35 pm

Another awesome contest, Thanks Ms. Single Mama!!!

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misskitty January 7, 2009 at 12:40 pm

would love a poster; would love the book (for future reference). love your blog; thank you and happy new year!!!

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Kati January 7, 2009 at 12:40 pm

I love that pic of you and Ben. Nothing better than a candid moment in my opinion.

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April January 7, 2009 at 1:21 pm

I feel Mia’s pain, having separated this past year from the father of my 2 yr old son. It hurts, some days tremendously and its numbing and unexplainable when the person you give everything to has a different love in which you knew nothing about, and for me it wasn’t another woman, which was an emotionally different kind of heartbreak. You want them to feel your pain, you want to understand why, you want it to go away. It hurts. Never underestimate the power of prayer.

Like Mia I have empty places to fill in my home, like of me and my son to show him LOVE and what our home is, what we together are about.

A big empty wall behind my desk is where it will go, my son will look, point and say “momma n baby Seth happy”!

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alexis January 7, 2009 at 2:02 pm

Women are such strong beings…I really wanna win this contest!!!!! I love your pic.

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Heather January 7, 2009 at 2:31 pm

Your contests are beginning to create an uproar! I’m jumping in as well!

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Wondermom January 7, 2009 at 4:27 pm

Me, Me, Me! I never win anything so here’s to fresh starts! And not that I’m buttering you up or anything but thanks again for all you do…discovering the single mom blogosphere has been such a blessing for me and changed my life for the better!

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A January 7, 2009 at 4:46 pm

That’s an awesome pic of you and Ben. I definitely have bare walls. This contest totally suits my mood… need a much needed fresh start so cheers to that..

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Andrea S January 7, 2009 at 4:50 pm

How fun is this! I want in!

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B January 7, 2009 at 8:39 pm

I sign my new lease on the 15th…. How great would this be for my new Man-Free Master Bedroom!!

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LTP January 7, 2009 at 9:27 pm

Wow…..just getting in under the deadline!! Top Chef was on my agenda earlier so just now catching up….

Anywho, consider me entered!! Wow–and cool pic of you two. I have an entire wall of b/w pix of my boys, me w/ the boys, etc. Everyone that sees it just loves it….

Thanks!!

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~Monica January 7, 2009 at 10:16 pm

Wow. This might sound strange but that photo you posted of you and your little guy really brought out some emotion in me – it’s just beautiful. One of those kinds of photos that tells a meaningful story. I’m a single mom to a 3.5 yr old boy and I love being inspired by other single moms who I can relate to. Can’t wait to explore the rest of your blog – thanks!

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Sam N January 7, 2009 at 11:39 pm

Poster Prints are great =D

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jlh January 8, 2009 at 9:16 am

In spite of maybe sounding selfish …I’ll say it…
I want a poster of myself, not my boys, not me and my boys
But just me!
YEP!

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Jojo's Mama January 8, 2009 at 5:56 pm

Mia Stay Strong, not just for your self but for your Lil Girl, who will someday grow up to be a women and will come across the evils of men!… Lol

You Guys Will Be Just Fine!

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Rebecca K. January 9, 2009 at 3:37 pm

Angelina Jolie … she was a single mom for a long time with an adopted son … talk about “issue driven celeb” … now hopefully she has met her match with Brad 🙂

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MySingleMomLife (Nikki) January 9, 2009 at 4:09 pm

Oh Oh, Pick me! Pick me! :O)

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April January 9, 2009 at 5:53 pm

I refinish or build furniture – it gives a new look and I get my frustrations out using power tools!! It’s a win win. I feel like “I am woman, hear me roar”. AND, I get the satisfaction that I am more of a man (handy around the house) than my ex EVER was. 🙂

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Amber January 9, 2009 at 6:50 pm

It would be so awesome to have a big print of me and my girl in our new chicks only bachlorette pad!!

Mia…go shopping its good for the soul;) Im thinking about ya girl.

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Kelly January 9, 2009 at 7:05 pm

Since my soon-to-be ex just moved out on 12/28, I would love a poster to redecorate!

Love your site! It was been so helpful in the 2 weeks I’ve been a single mama!

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Speedgirl January 9, 2009 at 7:53 pm

Oh, I would LOVE to have something hanging in the house that announces a family lives here – one that is happy and doesn’t need a man to be complete!

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Nicole January 10, 2009 at 8:45 pm

If at all possible, I suggest moving residences! I went from a condo to buying a new house after my “break-up”. I decided which house to buy, where the furniture should go, what color to paint the walls, etc. Not only did it distract me from mourning over our relationship, but it gave me confidence that I can do this single mom thing on my own!

Yes, and I’m all about the redefinition of “family”!

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angela January 11, 2009 at 7:44 am

loove your blog!!!! need to start my own to keep me focused on the positive happy wonderful single mama I am instead of sometimes feeling lonely.. thanks for giving me something to look forward to reading!

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Kristina January 11, 2009 at 4:34 pm

Oh boy do I need a fresh start. Single mom, just left my hugely stressful job and am embarking on a career in massage therapy. I just cleaned out my office to become my study/meditation/massage room and it has bare walls! (although they are a beautiful shade of pumpkin spice… very energizing)

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bobby January 12, 2009 at 2:34 pm

Actually sounds like a good topic for a book! It makes me wonder whether there is a united singlemom’s network to help newly SM’s get through the initial period? If not, why not start one?

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Dawn January 12, 2009 at 5:58 pm

This is the NETWORK baby. Ms Single Mama is the bomb … tick, tick.

Love all of you dear hearts. Love winning shit. Love it.

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Leah January 12, 2009 at 9:46 pm

MSM – you are such a sweet and generous soul. I know just the picture that I’d love to make into a poster print.

And also wanted to say how glad I am that Mia has you for a friend and that she is blogging about her experience. Blogging has really helped me tremendously to work through shit, especially since there’s no time or $$ for therapy these days!

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Christie F. January 12, 2009 at 10:18 pm

Also a Single Mama, we all know its difficult to make a fresh start….Stay Strong for the kids…they depend on us to be their backbones.

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Dawn January 13, 2009 at 8:51 am

On my way to becoming a single mama of two boys. Would love to win something new of my very own!

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Stephanie January 13, 2009 at 3:48 pm

I have a picture in mind that would look great poster sized. I’ve been in the process of redecorating/purging since my now ex-husband had an affair and left over a year ago. It’s slow going but feels so good to look back at what I’ve accomplished.

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Jenn January 13, 2009 at 6:22 pm

I’m in!

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Ali January 13, 2009 at 9:41 pm

choose me. choose me. 🙂

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michelle s February 4, 2010 at 1:55 pm

Looks like a great book & pictures

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