Last weekend one of my single mom friends dropped her sweetest, little baby off for a few hours so she could get some well-earned girl’s time.

John Bear came over to help. And while he’s mastered the ages of three and four, clearly two months is not yet in his repertoire.

We’ll be borrowing Baby M more often between now and the time the Baby Bears arrive (not anytime soon)–we’ve got to break this Papa Bear in.

I know I have some readers who are children of single moms.

You’ve said you’re here because I fill in holes, blanks from your childhood or at least, give you an idea of what your mother went through. A question for you–what if this was your mother’s blog? Would it be too much? Are  there some things you’d rather not know?

I don’t hold much back, especially in my eBook. There is so much here and even more there detailing my dating and my relationships as a single mom. But there are also posts like this one and this one that I will definitely want him to read. So, I’m wondering–would this blog and everything that comes with be too much? Or would it answer questions for you?

I need honest, insightful and constructive thoughts. Not hatred. If you take issue with single motherhood and women who decide to move on with their lives in the way of dating–that is a discussion for another post, or maybe a Bill O’Reilly messageboard.

I am weighing a decision and your feedback will help me so much. Thanks in advance.

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P.S. The Single Mom Manifesto books (there will be several) have been created. I’ll  share pictures and more details very soon. I can’t wait to set them free.

I’ve checked both of these out – both are legit and one is for a huge daytime talk show. And, it’s not one of the nasty daytime shows, it’s one of the completely fantastic shows. Otherwise I wouldn’t be sharing. So here you go…

Single Moms Wanted

#1 Are you a recently or soon-to-be divorced mom?

Are you currently going through a divorce? If so, a nationally-syndicated daytime talk show wants to hear from you ASAP. They’re hoping to follow your journey as you deal with your children, finances, friendships, family and dating. By participating, you can inspire and empower other moms going through divorce. Note: You must live within 3 hours of NYC. If you’d like to share your story, email DaytimeTVShow@gmail.com ASAP with your name, phone number, a self description and a photo. Feel free to spread the word!

#2 Single moms or dads wanted for national TV dating show.

Looking for single moms and dads between the ages of 25-34 who want to participate on a national TV dating show.

For now we are searching in the greater Los Angeles area but we’d like to hear from anyone who shows any interest in participating. Please email psadighi@yahoo.com for more info.

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Good luck! And if one of you lands in the national spotlight, please don’t forget about us little people. And above all – remember what you’ve learned here about finding yourself first before diving back into dating. And for the love of Pete, stay away from the Bad Boys.

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.

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.

I stopped counting at 150. Your names. So many of you wanting a hand in this beautiful book.

Instead of downloading the XML form I just counted by hand with my cursor, arrowing down. One. Two. Three. Up to 20 and then 50. So, 50 on one page and there are three more, at least – oh boy.

And that was a few days ago.

The days seem like hours lately.

I could, technically speaking, work around the clock for weeks and still have more left to do. I realized this with a kind of excited and terrifying horror a few weeks ago. Busy is good, it means business is good, which means I am sleeping really well. I also love what I do immensely so that adds this huge element of fun. But – wow.

This Manifesto project will be a great break from the online. I am craving the tangible. I found a box of old letters when I started packing for the new house. I read every one. Savoring the hand-writing, the thoughts – written without the delete key or cut and paste. What happened to letters anyway?So, back to the counting. After my 150+ revelation I did the math. The writing + shipping + busy single moms passing manifestos to each other math and realized that even if we each turned the book around in 2 days with 2 days allowance for shipping it could be going around for two years.

I don’t know about all of you, but two years is a bit too tangible for my liking. Instead, I bought three books. And they’re skinny, perfect to cut down on shipping cost. Perhaps, we’ll make an international book. And the international readers are all with the understanding that they’ll be shipping to each other. Let me know what you think in the comments. Also, I like the idea of several books because if one is lost or intercepted by a tyrannous troll (eh-hem, you know who you are Troll people) – then the others will live on. I also have a few other securities brewing to protect against the malicious.

And, what if we had one book that just keep going? Like a message in a bottle. Hmmm…

Any other ideas you can contribute toward the Single Mom Manifesto are very welcome. I’ll be writing the guidelines and assembling the mailing lists in the next few weeks. In the meantime, start your first drafts because you’ll need to move the Manifesto right along when you receive it. I’ve also closed the sign-up form so if you’re in – you’re in. Everyone else will have to wait until round two.

While basking in a few days off last week my mind went to wandering. Eventually I had a moment to sit and think about all of you and this blog, where it’s going and where it’s been; what it means to you and to me. I’ve been effectively avoiding the subject with myself, the subject of what to do with “Ms. Single Mama”, for months now. I dodge any hint of the topic in my head along with the high heels in my closet that I just can’t wear anymore. I am outgrowing my single ways and this blog but I’m not quite ready to let go.

When I started writing here I couldn’t find another place online or in the book store that I felt adequately described my life as a single mother–a working, career oriented, urban mom who definitely wanted an active dating life.

Soon, after writing and talking openly about single mom issues to acquaintances, strangers or work colleagues I noticed a trepidation, a quiet befell them when I brought up topics affecting my life. And then there were my encounters with other single mothers–I sensed the same quiet, was it a sense of shame? But why? Why would they be ashamed when in my eyes, we were so strong, ridiculously strong to have survived our bad marriages or relationships in order to fearlessly make a better life for our children?

I am aware that not every single mom fits that description, but many do–especially those I have met and now call friends.

The shame and quiet had to be broken and then this blog suddenly took on another mission. In addition to pouring my heart out with dating advice I now wanted to also kill that shame, I wanted to redefine single motherhood–to bring all of our laundry, most of it clean, out of the closet. The backlash wasn’t pretty. I’ve had and still endure a ridiculous amount of heinous hate mail but all of that is trumped by the happy mail, the notes from all of you–single moms, men dating single moms, children of single moms, single women, and even married moms.

This blog has made a small dent, but that’s something. And, if I were to ask you how you feel about single motherhood today compared to how you felt about single motherhood when you first became a single mom what would your answer be? To my my readers who were raised by single moms and to the men dating single moms–you are also included on that question.

Back to me relaxing and being flooded with ideas while on my mini-vacation. I thought it would be remarkable if we could share our thoughts with each other, our definitions of single motherhood – not just here, on this blog and the single moms forum, but in the flesh. What if we could feel and touch each other’s words on a page and then share it with others for generations to come?

The idea.

I am going to buy a blank book. I’ll start by filling out the first page myself with my own single mom manifesto–my beliefs and what I find true about single motherhood, what I have learned. And then, I’ll mail the book on to one of you. Once you’ve done the same, you’ll mail it to the next person on the list and so on and so forth. Each page will be your own creation, like a scrapbook.

Our book will travel to hundreds of single moms, their children, their grandchildren – to anyone touched by single motherhood and then it will come back to me when it’s full. From there, who knows, maybe I’ll scan in the pages and share them with everyone or maybe we’ll publish it!

So, who’s in?

Everyone is invited! Just leave your name, e-mail and mailing address in this contact form and I’ll add you to the list. We’ll go in order of sign up, so the first on the list gets the book first. Also, you will have to pay postage for re-mail the book. Other than that, there will be no obligation whatsoever.

Also be aware that by joining this mailing list your address will be shared with others who have the book in their possession. I will not, however, ever publish your addresses or real names without your express permission. To my International readers, you’ll have to sit this one out but if you want to create a page and mail it to me to add to the book later, let me know.

Update: I have closed the sign-up form for the Single Mom Manifesto due to an overwhelming response. I just want to make sure we can get it to everyone on the list, 150+ of you!

If all goes well this round, I’ll open it up again for the Single Mom Manifesto 2, so please stay tuned.

“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.

Here’s the latest from Mia. If you missed the beginning of her story catch up here.

But first, Mia needs a huge favor from you.

Mia and Leigh (remember my friend from a few posts ago) both have a panel up for vote at SXSW Interactive – the most respected interactive conference in the Universe. Winning this panel vote would have a huge hand in propelling Mia’s career into the stratosphere of greatness she so deserves.

Help her get there. It will just take a few minutes. Go here. And vote. Please. Let’s show all of the Interactive geeks what an army of single moms can do.

Now back to Mia…

outside of being a busy mama and career maven, she’s been dating. And having a lot of fun but now that the adrenaline is wearing off she’s doing a lot introspection about her pattern – her comfort zone.

My Comfort Zone (may be a speed zone)

By Mia

“Your first step is figuring out what you want, what will make you happy a year from now. Your second step… just worry about that later.” — Wise words from my best friend.

If the worst problem I have is that everything in my life seems to be changing — is that really a problem? This is the question I asked myself the other night while complaining to one of my closest friends. The advice she gave is above. And it’s brilliant.

I’ll be honest, I am confused. I am slightly overwhelmed, but only at times. Otherwise, I’m happy. Aspects of my life are changing everywhere I look. Some friends who are having, just had, or thinking about children are the ones I could selfishly call before at any time for a quick glass of wine; maybe my job; most likely my schedule with Sydney – or so her dad has been saying for months now. All of these changes, even the good ones, are scary. The only thing not changing is my “pattern”. You know, the relationship “pattern” that all of your friends know you have but you love to deny? Yeah. Well I have one. I don’t fully understand it, but I know its there.

My name is Mia, and I have a pattern. I call it (lovingly) “my comfort zone”. But it has recently been pointed out to me it is more like a speed zone.

I go from 0-60 in about three dates. Although, not in the traditional way. I have never been the type to fall head over heels and ditch her girlfriends, or wait on the edge of my seat for a phone call, or (god forbid) cyber stalk or do drive by’s. It happens totally different for me. It starts with one, honest, good conversation. I have a knack in that department. I can make someone feel as if they are the only person in the world. I’m a good listener, a bad small talker, and I love deep conversation. Getting to the root of someone (AKA 60 mph) very quickly is my passion. I love this about me for a lot of reasons but when it comes to new relationships, the verdict of whether it is a good quality or not is still out. Note: I have not dated a tremendous amount since becoming a single mom, but I am noticing this pattern resurfacing from even before my ex and I got together and I have a sneaking suspicion it is something I should acknowledge. Even change.

What’s the problem you ask? The outcome? A relationship that should be at a school zone pace is highway cruising before I have even decided if the car is is right for me! I like relationships of all kinds. I am an includer. And I tend to put the real me out there pretty fearlessly (wearing messy buns in my hair, revealing inside jokes, and laughing about quirky shortcomings pretty soon out the gate.) Apparently, a lot of guys like this. (Or at least the ones I initially go for…)

So, what happened to being courted? I’m not even sure I know what that means. Shouldn’t I be comfortable with the guy that doesn’t divulge himself to me completely right off the bat? Maybe he doesn’t drop his plans to be with me whenever my schedule allows. Is that alright? Maybe the first few weeks we don’t have long, late night conversations on the phone, or even childish flirtatious texting all day. Is that bad?? I have no idea. It is possible I could be dismissing the school zone guy, even if I am pretty sure I would be barreling along, hair blowing in the wind, in the wrong direction with the highway man – Far away from where I want to be in a year.

I spent a long time, most of my 20′s in fact, with a man who wasn’t deep. At all. In fact, deep conversation was rare. But I remember our connection was something else back then. It was speed zone pace as well, in it’s own way. It was my pattern. And in this case I think it was there, leading me to loving him, so we could make our daughter. So it was worth it. I haven’t felt much of a connection to anyone since I started dating again. Until recently I wasn’t sure if I could or wanted to. Now I am afraid it is all for the wrong reasons. As comfortable as those reasons are to me.

So, the advise I received from my friend– “Your first step is figuring out what you want, what will make you happy a year from now. Your second step… just worry about that later.” — is becoming my mantra. I plan on finding out what and where I want to be and letting the rest fit in how it may.

Wish me luck!

——-

And P.S.

(It’s Alaina again) if you feel that her post screams a need for reading Marry Him! The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough you’d be correct. I lent her my copy months ago but she won’t read it. It’s the title, it’s a misleading controversial title but it’s such an amazing book.

Don’t forget to vote for Mia’s panel, too.

Out of 185 comments (who knew a free dress giveaway would beat my engagement announcement and my hate letter post in comments) Random.org chose June Bug. Here’s her lucky comment:

June Bug will be strutting her stuff at that wedding in her dress from Shabby Apple with a beautiful New Leaf Necklace on. Thanks for playing everyone. I hope you had fun picking out your dresses and if I could I’d be giving each of you one because you all deserve a new dress.

Special thanks to Shabby Apple!

P.S.

I decided on the Aspen dress, a sweater dress – because summer is winding down and I want something warm and cozy to snuggle up in this winter.