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 June 5, 2009
I looked up at my little sister. I had my wedding dress bunched up around my thighs and I was squatting on the toilet in my aunt’s house.
“Don’t ever do this,” I said.
Getting married, the actual wedding part, was painful for me.
Maybe it was because I was marrying the wrong man or maybe it’s because I planned my wedding in three days (a must to meet my French Canadian boyfriend’s expiration date for his time in the US.)
I was only 25-years-old. One year later I would be pregnant at just 26-years-old and wishing I had never done what I was about to do.
“Ever,” I said sternly.
She looked at me with her mouth gaping and nodded. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on April 8, 2009
Maybe I gave up.
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…]
by mssinglemama on April 6, 2009
It’s been so long since I’ve had a husband, or even a steady boyfriend for that matter, that I now can only imagine what it would be like. There’s nothing tangible left, not even an old pair of boxer shorts. Just pictures like this one.
At first, when Benjamin was just four-months-old, the memories of having someone were fresh. It pained me to imagine being alone for one more day, let alone a lifetime. Now, nearly three years later, I’ve completely adapted to going it solo, 100% of the time.
With that said, I can’t say that my imaginary husband doesn’t pop into my head every once in a while. He teases me with visions of what it would be like to have some help in the form of a sexy man who I get all to myself forever and ever.
Sometimes I even write him letters.
This week his imaginary chores included:
- Super gluing the shield of Benjamin’s toy knight back on.
- Removing me from the bar after my third shot of tequila on my 30th birthday to save me from my drunk self. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on March 27, 2009
You’re all asking about the camera.
I thought you might but I didn’t want to shock you with the sticker price of my newest toy in my last post.
To me, $679.00 is a hell of a lot of money but I splurged on this puppy anyway. Why? Because life is too damn short not to have excellent photographs of your child (if you can afford to have them. Fortunately I can, so I bought it). Three years ago if you would have told me I would be financially ahead again I would have told you, “It takes me three years?”
And then I would have promptly drowned myself in the nearest pond.
Three years seems like a long time when you’re staring down a barrel of your ex-husband’s incredible credit card debt*, have a baby to feed and are living in your mother’s house. Especially when – up until that point – you were completely financially independent and ahead (all. of. the. time.).
So when I paid off his debt last month I decided to invest in yet another life weapon.
Yes a life weapon.
Something that makes life easier or better. [click to continue…]
