by mssinglemama on July 22, 2009
Every guy I’ve dated since becoming a single mom has told me, “you need to relax” or “you never relax” My reaction has been the same each time. I stand there and kind of stare at them while scratching my head and then try my like hell not to ask them what the fuck chill out means. But after the third or fourth guy gave me the “chill out” line I realized that perhaps they had a point.
When I was in high school and college my form of chilling out included downing six Hornsbys and then maybe doing a keg stand or two. I don’t drink nearly as often anymore, maybe once every two weeks. And parties, what parties? Are you kidding me? Unfortunately I was not trained by my mother, who is constantly stressed out herself, in the fine art of chilling out, taking a load off, resting one’s feet up in the air and just reading or staring at the wall. Taking a break or chilling out was not in my household vocabulary as a child. That sucked. But not to worry, I am very aware of this fact and so is my therapist. [click to continue…]
by mssinglemama on July 31, 2008
Today sucked. Everything caught up with me.
Working full-time, being a mom, trying to date – mix all of that with a good dose of self-doubt and you’ve got the ingredients for one grumpy mama. I’m also dead tired.
Last night Benjamin kissed me good night and prounced off to my bedroom, jumped into my bed and curled up on my pillow. I caved when I tried to move him and he said, “NO! I go nigh-nigh Mommy.” He’s so independent. So fiercly adorable. I had to respect it and besides, he was passing out. Seemed like a good idea.
But then he kicked and stirred all night. Bad idea.
Because of my hazy, foggy day of dead tired doom – Benjamin got ice cream for dinner. Yep. You heard me. Ice cream for dinner.
On the sidewalk in my little urbanized neighborhood, the happy couples are out in force.
Some are at the start of their relationships… flawless outfits, perfume and cologne dripping out of their pores and sheepish gazes. They’ve found each other – a different kind of haze.
Then there were the veterans. The happy married couples. They’ve been in their haze for a while. Their eyes are different. The spark isn’t new but it’s there – gleaned over time, so wise, so sure. Each holding one of their children’s hands. The kids say hello to Benjamin while their parents smile at the strange little boy pushing his stroller- swerving through people, avoiding curbs and silly potted plants. He can’t see over the top and has no idea where he’s going.
He’s shouting too, “I wok to muh house, see? I wok! To muuuu (crescendo)hhhh house!!! Bye!” And his mom is snapping pictures like a dork. Because I love this stuff, have to capture it. Can’t let it go.
Across the street is the bar patio where Benjamin’s father kissed me for the first time. [click to continue…]
