From the category archives:
You would think I’ve seen it all but I haven’t. Nope. Like this…
This thing Benjamin does when the mood strikes, or when we have a far distance to walk to in a rush. In this case we were dashing to a bush to so he could pee because the church was all locked and there were people praying very loudly in a room near the other bathroom.
So back to the thing. [click to continue…]
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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).
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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.
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Maybe I just didn’t want to hear another “I can’t” or “I’ll try” - each one cutting a bit deeper than the last.
But somewhere along the way I just stopped.
I stopped asking my ex-husband to spend more time - time outside of his 36 hours a week - with our son.
So I’m not sure why, when Benjamin refused to let go of his father this afternoon, I said, “he needs you now, more than ever - maybe you should spend more time with him.” [click to continue…]
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Because today was Benjamin’s first and his last third birthday and because I didn’t buy him a single present in Austin I spent my lunch break on a mission.
My mission was to buy everything I would need to transform his room from a nursery/toddler room…
[Click to continue, although, be warned - there are TONS of photos in this post and a video - although I think you won't believe what you see. I still can't believe I pulled it off]
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My first memory is of toddling behind my mother along a dark hiking trail somewhere out West.
I must have been about Benjamin’s age.
A few hours earlier we had all split up. My father and some of my other siblings stayed on top of the trail while my mom and the rest of us went in. And now we were completely and utterly lost. In the quickly fading light all we had seen were the yellow buffalo crossing signs. Soon we spotted a road. We waited until a car drove by, flagged it down and hitched a ride back to the parking lot where my frantic father was waiting.
Some say your first vivid memory defines your personality.
Does this mean I’m lost? Or afraid? Sounds familiar.
But I’m finding my way. I’m finding it through the eyes of my son, the most amazing thing that could ever happen to someone fearful of love is finding someone who loves you unconditionally. And through him I’m learning how to let someone love me.
On our trip we didn’t get lost. Not once.
And all along the way I couldn’t help but wonder which one of the memories will be his first.
Seeing his first plane
or riding on one?
Or will it be his second flight when the raisin snacks from the first flight gave him a vicious poop attack? (Thanks mommy). Poor kid was screaming his brains out. Luckily the nice man sitting next to us was beyond accommodating. [click to continue…]
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Still haven’t had a cigarette. Went through some major withdrawal attacks this weekend but Morgan was there to cheer me on… and I made it. This is hard though. I miss them already. Those evil little cancer sticks. I’m not sure if I can do this. I’m just not. But I know I don’t really have a choice. Live or die, baby. It’s that simple.
Aside from daydreaming about taking drags from my toxic friends this weekend was incredible.
Morgan and Lucca drove up from Kentucky on Friday night and by Saturday morning it felt like they’d been here forever. [click to continue…]
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Because he is. This little guy is my guy and my reason for doing all that I do, day in and day out. I wouldn’t have it any other way because at the end of every little storm he’s there waiting with a big sloppy kiss. But lately I can’t help but notice that Benjamin is growing up on me.
Today we had a snow day. My office, his school - both closed. Before I found out our office was closing I sent my co-workers this e-mail, thought I would share…
Benjamin has a snow day - that means I have to take one with him.
HA HA - SUCKERS!!!! Having kids is great - you should all go out and make one immediately!
I’m so professional. I love it. Not sure if anyone in my office found that e-mail as funny as I did, but it had me laughing for a good two minutes. I am such a dork for admitting that and sharing it. Please don’t make fun of me. And to all of my co-workers - thanks for putting up with me all of the time. I know I can be a pain in the ass.
After a morning and afternoon inside Benjamin and I finally broke through the ice sheet over my door and hopped outside to get to work.
While I shoveled (finally found one in my garage) Benjamin used his push cart to clear snow up and down the drive way. And while I heated up the car he spent a few minutes scraping the ice off of his form of transportation.
He’s also cleaning up after himself, serving himself juice, even helping me find things. But he still throws tantrums and needs tons of cuddling. It must be an odd place for a little man - on the verge of discovering so much.
Today while surfing through my archives I found this post - Prince Charming Can Kiss My Ass - it’s a little testament to Benjamin’s creation. Something you should read if you missed it… short but sweet and, as always, filled with some thought provoking questions.
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And also, two of my dearest single parent blogging friends would appreciate a second or two of your time. [click to continue…]
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“Yeah, well, I guess I am.”
Is this getting harder or am I imagining it?
Terrible-twos? Really? I thought it was the threes. He is almost three, but still… I think it’s me. I’m impatient right now. I’m bored and yes, I’m a little stressed. But not because of him. Benjamin is amazing.
“Mommy,” he says, “I need to tell you something.”
It’s a phrase he learned from said Mommy.
Then he cups my face in his little hands and tells me something about his day, his feelings, or the nerf gun I bought him. He’s awesome. It’s totally me. Or is it? I just don’t know because this is the first time I’ve done this mom thing and I’m doing it alone.
There’s no one to bounce all of this shit off of … am I doing this right? Or that?
And it’s winter. I need sunshine. And it’s not just winter — it’s freezing. Last week the sun came out for one afternoon. Then the clouds rolled back in and we’ve been under them ever since.
I lived in Texas once - in Fort Worth. The sun never faded. When it did, the black storm clouds rolled through and they were gone twenty minutes later.
Distant storms. You could feel them on the breeze, just a whisper in the trees.
I discovered words like those at live concerts in the hot, Texas air with cowboys every which way and my little sister by my side. We were single and free and so incredibly happy. [click to continue…]
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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.
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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 –
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.
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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.
Just wish I could do them all in my sexy boots.
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