by mssinglemama on December 10, 2009
We all have them.
Don’t we?
Without a healthy dose of occasional moral or ethical conflict life wouldn’t be life. We wouldn’t need churches or prayer or tarot cards. We would just know what to do in every situation. But alas, we are human, and – if you’re a human like me – you are often confronted with moral questions that don’t have a clear right or wrong answer.
My case in point:
On Sunday night, en route to a Winter Festival at Benjamin’s school my phone buzzed with a text from Benjamin’s father.
I just had my first fight with (his girlfriend, who he lives with) and I told her I was done. That will hurt Benjamin but I am first on that one.
And then another one.
I am probably going back in my country (Canada) for a long while
I wrote him back, on the advice of John Bear – not to write anything like, “Yay! Finally! Just do it already.” Instead I typed in…
Just keep me posted.
Then I didn’t hear back. I called on Monday. No answer. On Tuesday I sent a text with no response. And then, on Wednesday I sent another text.
So? What’s going on? You okay?
This time he responded.
Yes. Talk later.
And that was it, until tonight when he texted me again saying, [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on October 19, 2009
We are in the swell, waiting for the wave to push us onto the beach.
In a few weeks Benjamin will be starting at his big boy private Montessori school while Mommy goes off to work again. And something else is changing.
Benjamin’s father won’t be here this week
or the next.
His Canadian passport has expired along with his drivers license and permanent residence card. That means my little guy will be all mine for the time being. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on August 23, 2009
John Bear jumped out of bed at 7:00 am to feed Fiesta Dave’s meter.
We’d parked in a haze of exhaustion. After spending the entire day in New York City we hit a monstrous traffic jam on the way into Philadelphia. Between reading our iPhone maps and asking cab drivers which turn to take next we couldn’t help but notice the city surrounding us. Smartly dressed couples walked slowly down the sidewalks but it was the magnificent buildings, many of which bore witness to the birth of our nation, that commanded our attention. Our heads zig zagged from the left and to the right, taking it all in and feeling immediately humbled.
“Now this is my kind of city,” I had said as we pulled into our fortunate meter directly in front of the hotel. Minutes later we were fast asleep, barely able to roll over and kiss each other good night. In the morning I felt like someone had hit me square in the head with a sledge hammer. I knew this kind of headache. A smoker’s headache. It must have been the New York City smog or something. Or maybe the stale air in the hotel room. I wasn’t sure but I did know one thing – I needed caffeine, immediately.
“Can you grab me some coffee while you’re out there?” I mumbled to John Bear as he ran out the door.
“Yeah, no problem.”
That’s the thing about John – he’ll do just about anything for me at any time of day or night without complaint. Because of this fact, I reserve the asking only for special occasions. This was definitely one of them.
“We should get going,” he said when he came back in, the door slapping loudly behind him and the hot coffee in his hands.
“Why the rush?”
“You should see it out there. It’s awesome.”
And in less than 20 minutes later I was able to completely agree with him.
We found Philadelphia much slower paced, more our style and could have stayed all day but we had to get back on the road. My ex had called earlier to tell me Benjamin was really “missing Mommy.”
Just minutes after leaving the city I called my little brother, Eliot, to check in on his wedding. Just a few days away now, he was telling me about something pretty important when I hit a gargantuan pothole on the Pennsylvania Turnpike’s Toll Plaza. It wasn’t even a pothole, more like a chasm or a crater. I screamed and my brother heard it all go down. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on April 26, 2009
There are few material things that ever really wow me.
Here are two.
Benjamin’s new “water boots”.
For the first time in three years Benjamin’s father bought him a pair of shoes.
He had no way of knowing this but I’ve been trying to find a cool pair of puddle stomping boots for months. But they never had Benjamin’s size or they were just too cartoony. These are perfect.
We’re about to enter week three of our two nights a week arrangement and with each week my ex is being more responsive, more engaged as a father and even more attentive to my concerns and my needs. I’m not over analyzing it, wondering why now or what next. I’m just enjoying this and fanning the flames of hope.
The future doesn’t have to be so frightening. I make it frightening as a defense mechanism. It’s a bad habit to break but I’m working on it.
My Ford Fiesta.
I am absolutely divinely head over heels in love with my new ride.
I just got home last night but Benjamin and I were out and about all day cruising.
Now I’m wiped out.
I have a lot of video to edit, some posts to write and a secret self-induced single mama mission to tell you about. I just had to go rogue and get a jump start on this whole mission thing. The story will have to wait until I sleep and catch up on everything else.
Until then check out my Fiesta Movement Training Flickr pictures. Start with this picture of me on Lake Michigan in Chicago. Sigh. Then head over to Morgan’s Flickr of the trip because she is actually a photographer. Her shots are, as usual, out of this world.
by mssinglemama on April 12, 2009
My son can’t wait to be a man.
You don’t have to know him very well to instantly see that inside of this little three-year-old is a strong, tough guy waiting to come out and do man things all day.
Take my Uncle Dennis’ truck for example.
There is no place on Earth Benjamin would rather be than sitting in the back taking a donut break.
That’s why I’m going to hold pictures like this for ransom.
Oh! And those underwear he has on – he calls them “panties”.
I did NOT do that on purpose.
I swear.
I honestly just called them panties for two weeks before it dawned on me, “Hey, that doesn’t sound right.”
Too late. Panties they will be until someone else can convince him otherwise. See the rest of our Easter photos here – Martha Stewart would have a heart attack.
Happy Easter!
We’re heading down to grandma’s today with Mia and Sydney, who are both doing really well (I’ll bug her for another post).
—–
My ex’s request and hate mail [updates]
I’ve decided to let Benjamin’s father keep him for two nights this week. Your advice on that was, as usual, spot on. My favorite tip is to take it week by week, see how it goes and always let Benjamin say if he wants to stay or vice versa. It’s all about Benjamin and if he wants his dad then he gets his dad. And even though my ex-husband has even expressed desires to go back to Canada, he’s still here. And I shouldn’t deprive my son of his father while he still has one around.
I also do believe, especially after reading a comment from Canadian Bald Guy (a single father himself) that men can change as fathers because the children change.
If you’re looking for something really awesome watch his video in response to my hate letter. He basically tips his hat off to single mothers in a big, big way. Coming from a single dad that means the world to me and so did all of your comments. The world, people. Seriously. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
You all made her words disappear in an instant.
