He hadn’t waited too long to call. On Wednesday morning I found a blinking voice mail on my office phone. I never get calls at work (I’m a writer) so I knew it was him.
“Hi, it’s (man yet to be named) from the plane. I just wanted to see how you were. And I’d like to take you to dinner on Thursday night, so if you’re interested just give me a call.”
Sweet. Very sweet. And that took guts. I like guts. And manners. Very much a gentlemen. But Thursday night. No way. Or Friday, Saturday or even Monday night for that matter. He would have to wait until Tuesday to see me again and I’d have to tell him why.
Besides I despise beating around the bush or hiding anything. I also like to rip open my presents or any package – even if there’s nothing good inside – just because I like opening them. It’s weird. If you ever want to torture me just dangle a fresh Federal Express box in front of my face. I’ll freak out.
So I just told him.
“I’d love to have dinner with you,” I said when I called, “but Thursday night won’t work for me, it will have to be Tuesday. My schedule is kind of weird. I didn’t realize until we’d went our separate ways at the airport but I completely forgot to tell you that I’m a single mom. I have a three-year-old son.” [click to continue…]
Especially when she’s leaving on a fun weekend escapade in six days (more on that later).
Unable to find a sitter, I decided earlier this week (thanks to my Twitter peeps) to just take Benjamin to the salon with me. The place, right down the street from our apartment, is an industrial type of salon and also doubles as a barber shop. Not your average frou frou place and being edgy and alternative I figured Benjamin would be welcome there. I’ve also been going there for four years, maybe more.
I even asked when I made my appointment – just to be sure, “Is it okay if I bring my two-year-old with me?”
“Of course!”
I packed up a book, a few toys, a coloring book with crayons and some treats and we headed to the salon. After my shampoo and two minutes into the actual cut (half of my hair was 2.5 inches shorter than the rest) the salon owner came up to me and told me very shortly, “Is there anyway you can do anything about this? We can’t have him running around like this.”
I said, “I can try.”
But I knew it was impossible. Hell, I was just happy Benjamin wasn’t throwing a tantrum or breaking things. From my point of view, his crawling around beneath my legs and gabbing with salon patrons was excellent behavior. Given this, if half my hair weren’t gone I would have walked out that moment.
So the hair cut went on and so did Benjamin – my little rascal.
See him there on the floor… being sweet and having fun.
The entire time I’m now very well aware of the owner’s glare.
From the front of the small shop and even while she sat in the back and ate her lunch, she was scowling and shaking her head. The rest of the staff members, including my stylist, were incredibly cool about it – playing with him, picking up his crayons when he dropped them in the middle of the floor, telling me it was “cool” and “not to worry.”
In the meantime I’m realizing painfully that my son is not ready for a hair salon. I feel bad, actually, and decide that this won’t be happening again– for years. I even consider tipping everyone in the place.
One hour later my hair cut is finished and I jump out of the chair.
“Time to go Benjamin, c’mon baby.”
I’m paying, gathering my stuff – frantically almost. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
When I turn around she is standing within six inches of my face. [click to continue…]
We’ve been in some kind of a deep freeze for weeks now and I made the big mistake of checking the weather forecast today — and it’s not good. This cold snap isn’t going anywhere. Which means I have to spend another weekend inside with little Benjamin.
I’m running on fumes, tired as hell lately and have exhausted all indoor entertainment options. He’s even bored with his new easel. I could sit here and bitch about the following things a single mom must endure in the absence of a man such as; freezing my ass off every morning while I de-ice my car, paying yet another outrageous heating bill solo or having to haul my garbage out in the middle of the night only to come back inside with frozen snot and a shudder like no other.
But all of the above pales in comparison to this cold hard miserable fact –
I can’t wear my new suede boots.
There – I said it.
While the world is crumbling around us — something I spend an incredible amount of time fretting over — while people are clearly suffering, I am sitting here day dreaming about a snowless day when I can wear my new boots again.
I should burn in hell. Immediately.
But when a girl doesn’t have a man – especially when she has a little man – nothing makes her feel better than hot ass new boots. Hell. Told you. Hell. Don’t worry, my day will come but I’m bringing the boots with me.
—-
Last weekend after I wrote this post I woke up on Sunday morning and realized our entire day was free. Then I had a brilliant idea.
“Hey Benjamin – let’s go sledding!”
“What Mommy?”
“Sledding. You know. Oh, you don’t, do you? Okay, hold on – let me show you.”
I pulled up a YouTube video of a kid sledding.
“See, you sit on the sled and go whizzing down a hill.”
He got the picture and we were out the door in a flash (a minor miracle, usually there’s at least 15 minutes of protest).
We ran through Target shouting, “SLEDS! SLEDS! Where are the sleds?!!!!!!”
That was fun. The best part about motherhood – not giving a shit what anyone thinks, well, for me anyway. If he’s happy, I could care less. And sometimes I have to act like a raging lunatic to make him happy. And besides kids like lunatics who scream. They can relate.
Twenty minutes later we pulled up to the little sledding hill. We lost his mittens weeks ago so I put some socks on his hands. He thought it was cool. And then surrounded by all of the dutiful fathers on the hill – no mothers in sight – Benjamin and I whizzed down that hill.
And I screamed my ass off.
It was unbelievable. We went again and again and again until Benjamin’s sock mittens failed him and we had to jump back in the car.
These father jobs are actually pretty cool.I’ll have to start learning even more.
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.
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.
Benjamin has a severe flu – puking, puking and puking.
We had to go to the grocery store today. Had to… there were things we needed like saltines, popsicles and sorbert ice cream. He nearly puked in the cart. I made this video after we got home and he passed out.
(Thought you all would like to see my vulnerable side, because I do have one – we all do).
P.S. Benjamin is improving, so no worries, but he’s still very, very sick.
He hadn’t waited too long to call. On Wednesday morning I found a blinking voice mail on my office phone. I never get calls at work (I’m a writer) so I knew it was him. 
