Single Mom | Single Mom Blog | Ms. Single Mama » baggage

Flying

mssinglemama — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 03:04:51 +0000

The plane lands with a jerk as I reach under the seat to rescue my purse from its lonely spot on the floor.

I stretch my fingers into the darkness hoping my purse is the only thing I find. This is the last leg on a whirlwind of business trips. The first one to Baltimore and the second to Boulder. My team and I were in and out of each city in less than 36 hours. In Boulder, the whirlwind included scenery that takes your breath, steals it and then gives it back again.

How about a mountain with your coffee?

But now all I want is my purse, my keys, my car, John Bear and my bed. In that order. Benjamin will have to wait until the morning because he is already asleep.

I turn my face toward a piece of chewing gum the passenger before me had wedged into the pleather fold of the seat pocket. If I am facing it, there’s no way the gum can capture my hair. After accepting the gum’s existence at the start of our two hour flight I then tried to envision the type of person who would actually do such a thing.

My first imaginary gum chewing culprit is a 10-year-old boy with an attitude. But women and children are few and far between on these business flights. I throw the kid away and settle on a vision of a slightly overweight middle-aged man with dark shadows under his eyes, greasy hair and a bruised ego courtesy of the cute blond chick who had refused to give him her phone number at a bar the night before.

Your classic chain reaction of rejection and hurt. She hurt me so I am going to stick my gum right here so I can ruin someone else’s day. If you can think of a more probable explanation for the gum on the seat than I am all ears. The gum leads me to thinking about anger and why we harbor it, why we carry hatred around with us like a heavy bag, like a tasteless and old nasty piece of gum. Not just single moms, but people in general. Why is it so damn hard to drop that baggage?

Is it because we don’t know how to live without defining ourselves by our past? And how do we shed the vicious and often completely misguided labels others give us?

When we finally do we’ll drop pounds of anger. But many of us carry it around taking it out on undeserving strangers, our own family, a first date or the lady behind the counter – and, of course, plane seats.

Just drop it, already. There’s too much life to live. And get some sleep, that will help too.

P.S.

Speaking of baggage. Mr. Man texted me during my rushed business trip to Boulder, Colorado asking about this recipe. I’m telling you, they are the best pancakes on Earth.

Baggage check: I won’t let myself fall in love.

mssinglemama — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 01:45:41 +0000

I left my phone charger in California. And after one day with no interruptions and no friends to run my emotions by … I realized how nice it is to be disconnected. So I didn’t buy a new one. Now it’s been five days of phone free bliss and a lot of time to reflect. In one of my many quiet moments I had an epiphany – I am scared to death of falling in love again.

I have done it before, been completely swept away. At the time it seemed clear. He was the one. We could make it work. Til death do us part. But something had severely clouded my judgment and by the time I realized my mistake – it was too late – we were married.

Now my ex-husband is a walking, talking example of how blinded I can be by love. So, I don’t trust myself. There it is. Simple as that. And it doesn’t help that every Monday I get to see that shining example pull up into my driveway to take our son for 36 hours.

But what if my fear of falling for the wrong guy keeps me from falling for the right guy? When love does show up will I be brave enough to let myself fall? I hope so, for Benjamin’s sake. I would hate for the kid to miss out on having brothers and sisters or a full-time dad because “Mommy has baggage.”

So here’s my baggage dumping plan, effective immediately (because this shit has got to go):

Step 1: Identify Baggage

My ex-husband broke my heart. What if it happens again? Benjamin would be hurt and so would I … I’m protecting myself and Benjamin from my own silly heart that (in the past) has always fallen for the wrong guy. And what about the financial fall out? Divorce sucks. I also fear losing my freedom again to marriage (i.e. prison). Yeah, I know – that’s why they call it baggage. I have issues.

Step 2: Identify Effects of Baggage

I have fallen in love since becoming a single mother, with Kris … in the end neither one of us could take the big plunge into a deeper love. I kept him at a safe distance from my heart, didn’t grow too attached for fear of a painful break … and it worked. When we split it was painless. But we both lost something that had the potentional to be something. Two relationship phobes equals no relationship. But I learned from that experience. I also learned that I can fall in love and keep my head on my shoulders at the same time. So that’s the good news!

Step 3: Eliminate Baggage (the hard part)

I’m taking baby steps. I am. But … it could be a while. And I need to give myself that time. In the meantime I’m looking at each of my experiences with men with open eyes. Striping it down, recognizing when I’m pushing them away and when I’m just listening to obvious red flags. I have also realized that falling in love as a single mother will be different. (That was a huge step). That’s all I’ve got … clearly still working on this part. If you have any advice – please, by all means … help a single mama out.

What’s your baggage? Do you think my baggage is manageable? Any of this sound familiar?

[Photo: San Francisco beach]

Just when I thought I was safe…

mssinglemama — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 03:09:23 +0000

Six weeks ago I had reached a point of complete contentment with being single.

Over the past year and a half I have been looking, searching for someone. There was a pattern. I liked a guy. We hit it off. I scared him off. My friends told me, “You’re calling him too much.”

“What? I have a child. Do I really have to play these dating games anymore?”

“Great,” I said, “Then I’ll get rid of him quickly. If he doesn’t want a phone call from me, why would I want to be with him?” It was like a reflex, something inside of me trying to protect our little life from being broken.

“There are rules,” my friends would say. Rules? Oh, yeah. Those damn rules. I used to play by the rules. I used to be a dating diva, often dating more than one guy at once. It was my independence that attracted them. But after being married for two years and a mother for nearly two years I have completely lost my edge. It just can’t happen.

I can’t see myself ever returning to those days of care free dating.

So, what’s a single mom to do? Forget about it. And that’s what I did. I decided not to date a guy who makes me feel like I have to play by the rules. No more games. They are either completely into me or they aren’t. And I have to be completely into them because this single thing is actually pretty damn cool.

I was at a coffee shop, enjoying my new found indifference when fate took over.

My phone rang. It was an old friend and she desperately needed a ride out to a bar in the suburbs. A place where I never venture past dark. I hate the suburbs, especially bars in the suburbs.

I can’t say no – she’s desperate.We get there and I find out she’s meeting two completely drunk men in their late 50′s. Not my bag. I head outside for a cigarette.

I’m still enjoying my own company, not striking up conversations with any of the men around me – completely content. And then a guy sits down at my table. He starts up a conversation. I’m witty, I’m funny, I’m happy because I just don’t care. And then his friend walks in, “This is Kris,” he says.

Oh no. Oh God, he’s cute, really cute. He’s wearing a vintage suit, he is tall, thick dark brown hair, big green eyes. I couldn’t have dreamt up a better guy for me – just based on looks. I still didn’t care. But I wanted to find out – is he intelligent, is he funny? I can’t go back inside and talk to the old creepy men.

So I test the waters with some witty comments a guy for me would understand. He sits up in his chair.

“We’ve got a smart one here,” his buddy says to him. He nods. His eyes are light now, his smile is huge and he’s actually excited… so am I. Damn it.

From this point on it’s all over. We were laughing and talking all night. Before I left the bar I got his number, called his phone so he had mine and invited them out for Friday night. When we left, Kris grabbed me in a big hug. A hug that was so incredibly refreshing. He’s young, he’s innocent, he doesn’t have any baggage. He just wants to be with me. There were no rules in that hug.

That night I had a dream – about him.

We were kissing, we were together. What??? I had a dream about a man? This never happens. I was married for two years and had only a few dreams about my own husband. I woke up and decided to text him. That dream was an incredible tease.

“Thanks for the hug.”

He wrote back, “No problem, you’re a sweetie and very hugable. I’ve got class until 8:00 – after that I’ll be feeling like calling you.” He called at 8:15. No stress. Completely adorable and now it’s been three weeks. We talk on the phone at least two times day, we see each other two nights a week. I don’t feel myself losing control because this time around I am gauging this relationship against my content single frame of mind.

Note to self – you can not be happy with someone else, unless you are completely happy with yourself.

Getting there is the tough part.

**UPDATE**

To find out what happened with Kris, click here.