by mssinglemama on February 22, 2009
They die hard.
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…]
by mssinglemama on January 28, 2009
I like to call Benjamin my hero.
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.
—–
And also, two of my dearest single parent blogging friends would appreciate a second or two of your time. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on January 27, 2009
“You sound stressed,” my friend said over the phone.
“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…]
by mssinglemama on January 25, 2009
A girl has to get her hair cut.
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…]
by mssinglemama on January 21, 2009
Please, please go away.
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.
Just wish I could do them all in my sexy boots.
