I have lost myself again.

I am 10 pages deep into a journal from the 11th grade. I snap out of my self-induced memory trip, thank the cosmos for letting me survive high school, and stuff the journal tightly into the box. It fits perfectly next to the picture of my sister and I in a photo booth sticking our tongues out and crossing our eyes. I wonder where those girls have gone but I know they’ll never be back.

This always happens to me when I have to pack the good stuff–the books, the journals, the pictures. I fall into my memories.

Our move-in date has been bumped up, so we only have three more weekends. John Bear’s apartment will be easy, he doesn’t have much, but my place is another story. This office is just the beginning and then there’s the basement.

I’m on the office closet floor now between two boxes; one for saving and one for tossing.

After having Benjamin things I once had a hard time parting with are now easy victims for the toss box. Notes from old friends or the night gown I used to wear as a 6-year-old. I don’t yearn for my own childhood anymore now that Benjamin’s is unfolding before my eyes. And then there’s the promise of new memories on the way, memories filled with John and the family we have our hearts set on creating.

This entire time I’ve been keeping my excitement buried, just below the surface. I’m afraid this is a mirage and that my exuberance, if left unharnessed, could shatter the dream.

Old fears are hard to break.

With my ex-husband I learned how to hide nearly every emotion.  Constantly worried about how he would react to anything I would say or do I shut my mouth and put on a happy wife face. Turns out that Happy Wife Face was very hard to maintain during a move from a one-bedroom place to a three-bedroom apartment and even harder when our newborn had arrived.

You all know how that turned out.

When I hear John walk into the room I instinctively drop my head, scared to make eye contact. The boxes, the man and the old memories are giving me a bit of moving deja vu.

Above my head in the closet is an entire rack of winter clothes. It’s just one of three bursting closets in my apartment and I’m worried that John, who has not yet seen said closet, will freak out when he does. But he never freaks out. I’m just irrationally lost in my deja vu, in my baggage.

I look up at him sheepishly.

“These are all of my Winter clothes,” I say and then quickly, “I’ll be getting rid of most of them.”

“Why? They look cool. You should keep them. We can use that wardrobe thing you bought for the basement.”

“Are you sure?” Suddenly I’m snapped back into the reality of today, of the now. With a John Bear instead of whatever I had before.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s your stuff, bring it along.”

Then he heads to Benjamin’s room to scoop him up in a good-bye hug.

And there I was, alone on a closet floor in complete amazement that I was in a relationship but still completely free.

Go figure.

Related posts:

1. The case of the missing tomatoes
2. Missing
3. I’m Not Missing Anything, a comic.

A few weeks ago, or was it months? my ex offered, or did I ask? to take Benjamin two nights a week instead of one.

For several weeks he upheld his new commitment, enjoying every extra moment with his son until on week four he told me he was tired. I understood. It’s hard. This kid thing, this three-year-old thing.

But while adjusting to two nights a week with your son after three years of one is tough, adjusting to two nights of freedom, I found, is much easier.

I have been using the extra nights to catch up with long neglected friends and to make appointments for long neglected things, like my teeth.

Last night I got a text, “I will bring Benjamin back tomorrow, I have a meeting on Thursday.”

This morning another text comes, “I need to be done by 5:30. No later. I have my Wednesday night order to fill at work.”

“I have a dentist appointment but it should be done by then,” I tell him later on the phone.

The dentist’s office is remarkable.

They’ve squeezed me in on short notice knowing my insurance expires on Friday.

Just after the needles and just before the numbness creeps into my mouth I start chatting with the assistant. She tells me she was a single mom once too – for three years – and now she’s happily re-married. You can see it in her face – she is happy, completely content.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? How much easier it is to find a good man when you already have the child,” I tell her.

“Oh, definitely,” she says, “Because it’s not for you, it’s for your kid, you know?”

“And for you and for him and for the kid – for the entire family. It just gives you a clearer perspective on what matters. Kind of a perk.”

“Yeah, when before it was just about how hot they were or whatever.”

“Or if they took you out on a nice date. Like, who has time for dates when you have kids?”

We are now practically completing each other’s sentences. And then my mouth goes completely numb.

Bummer.

After the dentist delicately carves five holes in my mouth I realize it’s 5:00.

They tell me it will be at least an hour until we’re finished.

An hour? What about my ex and his deadline? What about Benjamin?

Who can I call?

I can’t leave. He can’t come here. I have holes in my teeth. Holes. And I can’t even talk.

I text Mia desperately.

No response.

She’s probably working.

I am under the lights. My head is pounding. They’re all being so nice, the dental people – these wonderful, awesome people – so patient with this frantic texting girl who has stuff propping her mouth open and wild eyes.

I have no one else to call.

The bitter reality, the non-perk of my single motherhood hits hard. These “I have no one” moments come to all of us and always at the worst times, the times – of course – when you wish you weren’t alone.

You may be on the side of the road with a flat tire, stuck in a rain storm on the street, on an airplane with a stranger in the third seat or at the dentist’s office. Wherever you are the reality of that moment always makes you want to sink, to cry, to completely deflate.

But you can’t, so you don’t – you have no choice but to find a solution, for your child’s sake.

I text the Bear.

“Can you do me a huge favor and go to my place and hang with Benjamin until I am out of the dentist’s. Stuck.”

Not even one minute later a new text zips over.

“I’m on my way.”

The two have met a few times before.

There was the time when he dropped off Benjamin’s pink eye prescription… we were outside when he pulled up and he had dinner in his hands. Dinner. Because I’d had a long day and Benjamin had a fever.

And on Mother’s Day weekend the Bear joined me on my first Fiesta Mission. Benjamin, although sleeping most of the time, was in the car for the first leg before we dropped him off at grandma’s so we could continue on.

The fillings were nearly finished. At some point I’d read a text from my ex who was furious at me for introducing Benjamin to another man.

“I am pissed,” he wrote, “call me later.”

I feel like I may choke on my numb tongue and I kind of want to… I would rather be having these fillings than walking out of this office to see the face of my new man who has just met my ex without me even there.

When I get home the Bear and Benjamin are sitting on the front porch playing.

Benjamin is jumping up and down – ecstatic to see me, the Bear is laughing. It’s a beautiful and frightening sight.

I’m also still a bit queasy.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Nothing, but you should go,” I say this even though I want him to stay because I feel like hell and my mouth, although numb, is still uncomfortable. I just want to lie down – to rest.

“I should stay,” he says.

“No, you should go, even though I want you to stay.”

After a big hug and good-bye to Benjamin the Bear heads out.

I went through the motions of the night in my exhausted body. And at some point I forgave myself. Because even though meeting the Bear may put Benjamin on a therapy couch in 20 years – this is my reality, this is our reality.

He is the son of a single mom.

This is his life and the only thing I can do is make sure we both make it out alive, well and hopefully as happy as we are now. Hopefully, unless I mess it up… or overthink us both to death.

Whichever comes first. Believe it or not, I’m avoiding them both at all costs.

P.S.

You’ll all be meeting the Bear very shortly… my mission video should be posted soon.

Related posts:

1. Reality.
2. He texted me again! WTF?
3. Just when I thought I was safe…

The other night on Twitter (my new addiction) I stumbled across an interesting Tweet from a guy named Seth. Then I clicked through to his blog and felt like I’d slipped into the world of my male alter-ego. If I were a dude and childless, I think I’d be him.

I immediately asked him for a guest post on dating single moms… and just a few days later – here it is. (I love those productive types). I think you’ll love him too after reading this post, just what the doctor ordered for any single mom and the men who are lucky enough to date one of us.

And be sure to check out Seth’s blog, The Dating Papers.

——

On Dating Single Moms

By Seth, author of The Dating Papers

“I’m the mother of three kids. Ages 2 through 7. They live with me,” she said over a spoonful of macadamia white chocolate ice cream.

I remember Kathleen’s exact words not for their syllables but for the look on her face as she said them. The blank look of expectation as she waited for me to voice my rejection.

“You’re kidding. I’m not ready to have a family.” She expected me to say. Most single moms expect guys to run when they mention a child. This need not be the case.

For the single childless guys:

• Dating single moms isn’t more challenging than dating any other woman who has a major commitment in her life. You already know you don’t have any good advice for the Olympic swimmer who trains 10hrs a day. Telling a swimmer that eating more carrots will make her faster will end better for you than telling a single mom how to be a parent. Being a parent crosses everyone’s mind at some point. But nobody is asking you to be a parent just yet!
• Most kids grow up with only one dedicated parent. The old stereotype of mom staying at home and dad going to work supports this. Get over your belief that she needs you to help her take care of the kid. She doesn’t. Her primary worry at this point is probably that she’ll end up having to take care of you as well!
• The only advice you are allowed to give in a relationship with a single mom is the type that only involves the mom. You already have enough to worry about with getting to know this new person in your life.

For the single moms:

The percentage of guys in the world who will make you laugh on dates and moan in the bedroom hasn’t changed since you became a mom. The man of your dreams has not disappeared because you have a child. A woman with priorities and goals who takes care of herself is sexy regardless of how many kids she has! Don’t lose heart.

• Do not base your search for a relationship on a timeline. You do not need to secure a partner before your child turns five or any other age. You are not searching for a father for your child. You are searching for somebody to make you smile!
• Stop thinking that all the other single, childless women in the world are having great dates, amazing sex, and rewarding relationships. Most of them aren’t. However, quite a few of them are wondering if having a child would make them happier. Go figure.
• Your hectic mommy schedule means you have little time for dating. Use this to your advantage and schedule lunch dates or late morning coffee with the new guys your seemingly deranged friends foist on you. This is a practice you should have incorporated back in the day, but now that you’re here: use it! Do use your parent status to skip out on dates. There’s no reason to feel awkward for leaving a loser “because you forgot you need to pick up your kid!”

“Kathleen” I said, slowly “you have more kindness, more humor, and are unabashedly sexier than any of the spinsters I’ve met!” She laughed and we finished our desserts amidst animated conversation. Our casual date gave her the confidence to ask out a man she’d been eyeing for months. At last news, they were fighting like an old married couple and being good for each other. In the end, it seems that if you find a person who wants to create a sustainable and rewarding relationship with you, everything else will find its place.

»Stop by Seth’s blog if you get a chance.

——-

And my other How to Date a Single Mom posts:

How to Date a Single Mom, Part 1: The original, a very nice list on how to date a single mom.

How to Date a Single Mom, Part 2: What to tell a man dating a single mom?

How to Date a Single Mom, Part 3: Hear from a man who spent 5 days with Benjamin and I.

How to Date a Single Mom, Part 4: Take your vitamins.

How to Date a Single Mom, Part 5: How to win a single mom’s trust and her heart.

[Photo: John Boyd picture of a Couple pre- 1946 Credit: Finavon Copyright: Wikimedia Commons]