And in which, our little cupids plan the entire thing.

This Saturday, between soccer games and a birthday party for the boys, the kids asked us the same question they ask us every day, “When are you guys going to get married?”

Seth, Lily and Cohen moved in one month ago. It felt right. It is right. And there’s no question that this is where all five us are supposed to be–with each other.

“September,” Seth and I answered.

We had it all planned out. A Court House wedding, then a ride on Seth’s bike to Athens for a party at Jackie O’s or Smiling Skull. Jackie O’s for the fresh, brewed beer and Smiling Skull its perfect imperfections.

“Why do we have to wait that long?” One of them asked quietly. I turn my head and look into the back seat where I see three pairs of eyes staring at me quizzically. They don’t understand and why should they? Us adults make no sense most of the time. We love each other, we want to be married – so why aren’t we? The children had all, in their own ways, expressed fears that Seth and I would break up. Like he and their mother did. Like John and I did. Children, as it turns out, have baggage, too. So, to rid them of their baggage, I proposed an idea.

“Let’s have a pretend wedding this weekend! We can do it in the backyard. And then we’ll be married!”

“But you won’t really be married, will you?” They asked.

“Well, why not? If we say we’re married then that’s all that matters.”

Seth loved the idea. The kids agreed and started clapping and bouncing out of their seats. Seth and I exchanged smiles and he squeezed my hand. Feeling like we’ve been married since the moment we met, knowing with everything that we are meant to be, the wedding itself – whenever it happened- would be a mere formality.

On Sunday the kids woke up with the pretend (but to them real) wedding on their minds. Lily’s cousin has spent the night and the two girls were antsy to start planning. The girls and the boys had crowded around me, demanding to know what their roles would be.

And so it began…

“Can we be the flower girls?” asked the girls.

“Yes! Of course,” I said.

“Can we be the ring boys?” asked Benjamin and Cohen.

“Yep.”

“Who will marry you though?” asked Lily. Far from the average seven-year-old she is the smartest most beautiful little girl I’ve ever known. Her spirit is uncrushable and her determination, in this case to have a wedding, is equally so.

“Benjamin could marry us,” I suggested. And then, cued by his clear ‘no’ face, “Or, Lily, you could because you can read. We can write the lines out.”

Lily was also completely disinterested.

“My Mom could do it,” Seth chimed in with a smile. His mother is a pastor and an officiant of the state or whatever. “But,” he paused, “If she does it, it will be real.”

“Oh, right.”

We both shrug. When there are four children around it’s hard to think or plan anything, and we typically survive by planning out a big activity for the day. In this case, a wedding.

“I’ll text her.”

“Does this mean it will be real or fake?” The children asked again.

“Well, we’re not sure. I guess we’ll just have to see.”

I gave the girls some streamers, some baskets and pointed them to the art room. Then Seth and I headed upstairs to clean our room. We’d been putting it off, getting the rest of the house in order after the move. But today while the kids were busy we decided to tackle my mountain of misplaced clothes and a monstrous basket of unmatched socks.

Sometime in the afternoon Seth’s Mom texted that, yes, she would love to come for our imaginary wedding and would be there at 5:30 PM.

By 5:00 PM, Lily was all dressed up in a beautiful Easter dress and I was still in my scrubby cleaning clothes. Deciding I better get dressed, Lilly and I start hunting through the closet. She picked a short white t-shirt dress first, which I quickly vetoed based on the length. Too short. Instead I proposed a fluffy purple skirt and a white top. She shook her head, “Nope, that’s not it.”

Then we spotted my red dress. I’ve had it for at least 10 years, but I’ve never worn it. Instead, because it’s so beautiful, I’ve had it hanging in my room. It’s just the perfect red, the most beautiful raw silk and it looks so cool on a hanger. I had tried to wear it out several times. But each time it just didn’t fit quite right. I dress with my mood and the dress had never made the cut.  But today, with Lily there beside me, it fits. Perfectly.

“Rings, Alaina, we need rings!” Lily dutifully points out. It’s now 5:15.

Oh yeah, shoot. Rings. I hand her one I had found in a jewelry box while cleaning the day before. I had no idea where it came from, but it was a tiny, little gold band. After Lily ran downstairs to deliver the goods and make her final preparations to the decorations, I decided it might be a good idea to do my make up. Downstairs Seth was waiting and had picked out a ring of his own, a ring he bought when he was 17  from a street vendor during a trip to Jerusalem.

At some point around this time, maybe as I put on the dress, it turned into a real wedding. We didn’t discuss it. It just happened and it was magical.

When Seth’s mother, Dale Ann arrived I could hear the excitement in her voice. This was definitely a much better option than the Court House. She, Seth and his Dad started calling in the troops–all of Seth’s brothers and sisters. I texted my friend, Monica, who had promised me months ago she would be a bridesmaid,”I think Seth and I are getting married in the back yard in 20 minutes. Can you get here?”

Twenty minutes later they were all there. Seth’s brother Ben, who had received his text while mowing the lawn, had managed to get some champagne on the way

and their brother, Nathanael with his beautiful wife Sara and their beautiful sweet peas.

Monica had miraculously checked her cell phone while riding her scooter on High Street and also made it just in time. Seth’s siblings from Chicago and California were online via a Google Hangout. Dale Ann entertained them with a virtual tour of the house. It was literally a surprise real wedding for everyone involved, even us.

Note the plucked flowers. We’ll get to that.

Dale Ann had brought a not-so-pretend wedding cake, gluten-free (for me) and sugar-free (for Benjamin). Our little wedding planners helped her find a topper. And yes, that’s toilet paper on the bride.

The flowers on the cake are from a bunch of wild flowers we had picked up at the grocery that week.

The flower girl petals came from the rest of them.

Lily, of course, had the bouquet covered.

The boys were waiting patiently.

And with all of those pieces and parts in place, the ceremony began. That’s Lily’s cousin leading and Lily behind.

I just want to pause for a second to point out my nasty, nasty yard.  Had I even thought I would have guests and a real wedding I would have perhaps cleaned up the pile of sticks or shut the shed door. Or, weeded the bricks. And another side note, the reason my yard looks like that is because I spend every weekend cleaning the inside of the house.

See?

Clean house.

Okay. Back to my unkempt yard and my perfectly perfect wedding.

My bridesmaids went first. La dee da.

And then moi.

No one missed a beat. Grandpa Gary, the meticulous Architect, made sure of that.

And then Benjamin walked me the rest of the way to my soon to be husband. The most beautiful, amazing man in the universe.

We’re not religious so Dale Ann delivered a non-denominational ceremony with prayers from various religions – Buddhism, Christianity and she even added a Native American prayer. And then we went ahead with our incredibly enjoyable formality.

Ben manned the video camera and fist pumps with some “Hell, yeahs!” at all of the right times.

Nathaneal took all of these amazing pictures.

Then the vows…

Then the candles…

Then the rings… or did they come before the candles? I can’t remember.

Then the kiss…

And finally the send off…

and more kisses

Then a toast.

A post party light saber, flower war.

And a very, very happy group of guests.

I’ll post more pictures when I can to the photo album.

xoxo

Wish you all could have been there, too. You were in my heart.

P.S. Our total wedding cost was $40 for the pizza we ordered after… hell, yeah! We’re still planning on a party in Athens in the Fall, but until then the children can sleep easy.

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1. Oh, those married people…
2. The Married Single Mom
3. The man I should have married.

This morning I forced Benjamin to watch Mr. Rogers. He had a rough day at school yesterday and Mr. Rogers seems to help. Mind control, brain washing, whatever you call it – it works. Especially when there’s a need to counter a weekend filled with Transformers and Star Wars Clone Wars – guilty. (we slipped up, it was raining for the 20th day in row).

Mr. Rogers went shoe shopping and asked all of the children (his viewers) to imagine being in someone else’s shoes for a moment, to be in the shoes of a friend or a neighbor.

I find being a mother the most difficult and most rewarding job I’ve ever had. Teaching lessons like empathy and understanding of each other… that’s up there in my “How in the heck do I do that?” file. Thank God for Mr. Rogers.

After Mr. Rogers and some play time, Benjamin got dressed for school and put on his sandals because he’s outgrown his tennis shoes.

“He needs some new shoes,” I said to John Bear.

“Okay, today then – we’ll go and get you some new shoes, Buddy.” John Bear says to Benjamin. The two of them are completely bonded again. It’s as if John and I were never apart and that completely terrifies me and excites me at the same time. We are a family. Thick with love and bonds that we can’t even break ourselves. Not that any of us are trying.

Instead of running from our issues John and I are now working through each of them as they come. One by one. Checking them off and growing as we move forward. There will be no running anymore.

“New shoes for my little guy. Again?” I say in shock. Benjamin is looking up at both of us, still blissfully unaware of the fact that his life is just beginning, that there is so much more after this. He is the Now.

And it’s so hard to believe his feet were this size two years ago.

His feet may have changed but this tough, little exterior of his is still exactly the same.

But inside of that little guy is the biggest, sweetest heart.

When I picked him up from school after his morning of Mr. Rogers Benjamin’s teacher said he had a “very good day” and said Benjamin had gone out of his way to comfort two injured comrades on the playground. He hugged them and even made them laugh through their own tears to cheer them up.

The Mr. Rogers full episodes are all here.(Thanks to my Mom for that tip).

As for the shoes, we got him another pair of Chuck Taylors.

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It’s hard to tell, but Benjamin may be growing faster than Cement Marketing. And that’s quite a feat, believe me.

Cement is up to seven (almost eight) team members. And Benjamin has grown an inch and a half in just the past two months.

Today, after an Easter Egg hunt in the morning we headed to a Clippers game in Downtown Columbus. In spite of the clouds and the rain… we still had a day. I’ve been a bit lax about taking pictures lately. I’ve even left my camera in the office for days at a time. But, today I kept it by my side from morning until night.

I also did something I rarely do–I gave it up.

First to Benjamin.

Who kept yelling and yelling, “No… really smile, Mommy!” Until he got it out of me.

It didn’t take long for me to turn the tables.

And then it was time to go.

And then to the nice man who gave us a few extra tickets on our way in. When we saw him in our awesome fourth row seats he offered to take our picture.

One hot dog, one bag of Cracker Jack’s, one bag of peanuts and two beers (and one water) later we headed home. And that’s when John Bear grabbed the camera.

I didn’t let John and Benjamin escape without a few pictures of my own. To see them check out the complete photo album.

I hope you like them. I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated the photo gallery and I bet you’re probably just as shocked as I am by Benjamin’s rapid ascension (literally) into full blown big boyhood.

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Disciplining solo is without a doubt one of the hardest things to master as a single mom (if you ever do).

I, for one, have yet to do so–but the older he gets, the easier it gets and when things started getting a little rough before Christmas I created a star chart in the nook.

Super simple and highly effective, so I thought I would share.

I bought some Velcro and pre-cut felt stars at the craft store. Then I took a strip of cardboard and tacked it to the wall with some ultra strong, thick tape. Next, I put the Velcro on one side of the star and the other side on the cardboard strip.

Finally, I tossed a dozen or so $1.00 toys into what I now call “The Toy Box.”

Here’s how it works.

If Benjamin listens (something we’re working on), helps with cleaning up his room or anything else that may come up–he gets a star. If he misbehaves,  a star is taken away. As soon as he hits ten he gets to pick a toy out of the toy box.

I’ve been using the star system for 8 weeks now and it’s been unbelievable. One tip, don’t be over-zealous with giving them. And follow through. One strike and a star is gone. No warnings over and over again. Just take a star away. Be sure to give them the chance to earn one back soon after though.

On average, it takes Benjamin about two-three nights to earn a full ten.

Love it.

Any other tips or tricks?

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A confession from the depths of my Mommy secret chest.

I think I am already jealous of the girl who gets to keep my Mr. Benjamin when he’s all grown up into a handsome, dashing and delightfully sweet gentleman.

Is this normal? Will I outgrow this? Or, am I destined to be a mother who has it out for all of her son’s girlfriends. I don’t want to be that mean mother-in-law.

Would love your feedback. And feel free to call me out on this if it’s completely and totally nuts.

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“Are we still in Ohio?” Benjamin calls from the back seat.

“Yes, we’re still in Ohio but we’re not in Columbus anymore. We’re almost to Athens. Your Daddy will be there, at the gas station in just a few minutes.”

During our bi-weekly hand-offs I try to mask any emotion other than, of course, pure Mommy delight. I never want Benjamin to feel any guilt for loving his father as much as his mother, for wanting each of us just as badly. We’re meeting at a gas station because even though Benjamin can tell me exactly how to get to his father’s house, deep in the back hills of Athens County, I know I’d get lost on the way back out.

Benjamin sees his Dad before I do and starts howling from the back seat, “Daddy! Daddy!” Their bond is solid now, far beyond anything I could ever control.

I am driving Benjamin down because his father can’t drive up to pick him up anymore, for reasons I can’t get into here – but keeping them apart is no longer an option. So, I bite my lip. I smile, exchange a few nicities. I hand over his bags. I hug my son so tight he screams at me to “let go”. After I do I stand up, walk to my car and drive away. That five minutes feels like fifteen and the only thing that makes it all right is seeing Benjamin’s smiling face from the back seat of his father’s car, with a wave and then a few kisses he blows my way.

I have an absolutely astonishing, bright and happy boy and his father is a part of that equation. It’s taken us a while to get here, but now I can’t imagine a world for Benjamin without his father there.

—–

A few hours later John Bear and I are sipping margaritas on the patio of our favorite Mexican place. He always manages to talk me into a dinner out, even though we should be saving every cent. The little luxuries though, these are what we work for, he says. And it works. Like a charm. We compliment each other in this way. I bring him far enough into my frugal zone and he pulls me out of it just enough.

This tug and pull translates into just about every aspect of our lives. I’m hotheaded, he’s cool. He tires easily, I can never relax. We always end up somewhere in the middle.

“I miss Benjamin already,” I say. He’ll be at his Dad’s for another week this time because school is out again.

“I understand,” he says.

“No you don’t! You love it when he’s gone,” I tease.

“Alright fine, maybe I do enjoy it a little.” Admissions come easily from John. Another thing I love about him – his honesty, almost as raw as mine but not nearly as abrasive. I raise my eyebrow at this and say, “I knew it!”

“Well, come on. It’s not like we get much alone time.”

“True, this is true.”

A few minutes later a couple led by a screaming toddler walks past our patio table. Twenty minutes earlier they had walked in, bright and happy – ready to bravely attempt a family date night, in a crowded restaurant.

John shakes his head in sympathy as the father picks up the boy who is now screaming even louder.

“I used to look at that before differently, now I’m just like ‘Been there, done that.’”

And then, without hesitation, John Bear uttered a phrase I used to tell him, “People without kids just don’t get it.”

I lower my eyes and start sipping my margarita, trying to hide the astonishment on my face. The way he said that, so casually. These are the little things that still manage take me aback. Because they amount to one big, giant, colossal thing – John has completely embraced Benjamin and I, tantrums and all. We are becoming a blended family.

—–

A few minutes after we finish our margaritas we get a phone call that the Cement Marketing offices were on fire. No serious damage. Unless, of course, you’re this door.

Or this window

And now, I know exactly what John Bear will be like when driving me to the hospital when/if I’m ever in labor again.

Me: “Don’t go so fast. You’re going to kill someone.”

John: “I’m trying to get us there as fast as I can and I’m not going to kill anyone.”

Me: “Watch out for that old lady. That poor old lady. She wasn’t doing anything wrong!”

John: “You need to calm down.”

Me: “Do you want a piece of gum?”

John: “No! I do not want a piece of gum.”

Me: “Geez. What’s wrong?”

John: “Nothing. Nothing. I’m just trying to drive. What? Are you laughing? Seriously? Dude, this is serious.”

Me: “I know, but you’re so funny right now. Look at you, you’re driving like a maniac.”

We got there a few minutes later and waited for about twenty minutes before getting confirmation that our front office room, the room with all of our equipment – and, most importantly, my external hard drive with Benjamin’s baby pictures were unscathed. The fire started out on the roof and creeped into the entryway and our entry window, but aside from that no serious damage inside of our office.

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Benjamin collapsed into a heap in the grass seconds after John Bear scored a goal.

John and I were letting him win about 80% of the time and giving him a tough fight for the other 20%. After goals Benjamin would yell victoriously, “Benjamin wins again!” And during losing streaks he would cry out, whine, and scream – anything to get us to leave him alone and let him have the ball.

This wasn’t the first time I noticed my son’s severe aversion to losing.

This trait of his, I have decided, is my doing. I’ve always let him win, wanting to avoid a tantrum or because I just like to seem him excited. But now that he’s four, a big boy in his own right, and clearly able to “get over it” – so I haven’t been so easy on him.

I refused to let him cheat at Candyland a few weeks ago and now this soccer match. No more Ms. Nice Mommy. But, as he laid there in the grass sobbing I lifted him up into a hug and said, “Let me tell you something, babe.”

He looked up at me through tear filled eyes, “What?”

“It’s okay to lose.”

“But, I don’t want to lose.”

“I know, you don’t. But everyone loses sometimes. Even Mommy loses.”

A look of wonder filled his eyes and than I realized this aversion to losing may not be so far from the tree. Then I told him what I tell myself when I lose, after I pick myself back up and dust myself off.

“And, do you know what I say?”

“What?”

“Let me try that again!”

Fortunately, for just about all of this, there are always second chances.

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This video is for all of the mamas, not just the single moms, but I do want to know – do you even have free time as a mom and when you do, do you feel guilty if you don’t miss your kids?

Here’s the deal:

Benjamin is gone for 11 days. 11. Yes, I said 11. I am on day 4 and I don’t miss him yet. At. All. It’s like some kind of miracle from the Heavens above to have free time all to myself… so, why do I feel guilty saying that?

Watch my vlog for more and please, tell me:

1) how often are your little ones gone

2) what do you do with your free time

and

3) am I the worst mother in the world?

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Being a single mom, small business owner/entrepreneur and blogger + girlfriend = frequent bouts of exhaustion and cravings for moments of peace and solitude.

On one such afternoon, which happened to be yesterday afternoon, I collapsed on the couch while Benjamin hopped out onto the front porch to play with the sidewalk chalk. He was so quiet – a rarity. But, as his teachers point out, when he is coloring or drawing he is completely focused.

Ten minutes later and one boiled over pot of chocolate milk (I had forgotten about it on the stove during my respite on the couch) Benjamin fetched me to, “Come look, Mama, come on! Come on!”

“Okay, okay – just a minute.”

And then there it was – his first landscape, story or whatever. His first work of sidewalk art that didn’t look like a mess of scribbles.

This, my dear friends, woke me up, re-energized me and even made me forget about everything on my to-do list.

At the top left is the sun, which has a cute smiling face and the bright blue line around the sun is a row of cities, the blue dashes are the cities. And to the right is a boy. Underneath the boy – the yellow and light blue line is the road leading to the cities.

Being alone yesterday afternoon, I had no one to show this to… I took the picture, my first instinct being to share this huge milestone of his with all of you. My readers. Maybe you guys are like my giant extended family. Filling that void being a single mom naturally creates – that feeling of being somewhat isolated.

An awesome new Cement Marketing client asked me the other day how many of you I’ve actually met. I am always surprised by the new questions thrown my way about blogging – a mysterious art to some. I had to think about it and then realized I’ve only actually met about 50 of you… many of whom have become real life friends.

So, why do I feel like I know all of you?

Who else wants to brag about your little ones? Do it. Share with all of us, your big family of single mamas. Leave a comment.

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Designed by none other than John Bear, the tireless 80′s toy and movie pusher, Benjamin’s birthday invitation garnered such a strong reaction from everyone who found it in their inbox that I had to share.

When Benjamin saw it he jumped up and down, and then after a few more viewings proceeded to tell me the play by play of how he ended up in the snow fighting Empire-bots with his “life saver.”

The invitation is building hype for the party among Benjamin’s four year old buddies. Rumor has it they’ve been printing copies out and carrying them around, pestering their mothers for more details and advance tickets.

Deception is an art and it’s call Photoshop. The invitation makes me seem like a well-organized, put together mom who plans everything far in advance. But, don’t let it fool you.

After weeks of toiling over the idea of an expensive bowling alley or skating rink party, I decided to rent out Wild Goose Creative under the Cement Marketing offices. Then I asked John if he could make an invitation. Three hours later there it was and a party was born – for well under my budget.

The plan now is to sit a group of costumed kids down in front of a giant projection of a Star Wars movie. Then we’ll let them run free to eat food, cake and play a few games. The adults can escape upstairs to the Cement offices for private kid-free time.

Done and done. I’m such a slacker.

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