I’ve been caught up in life. 

It happens. 

But lately it hasn’t really been my life I’ve been caught up in. 

—–

First there’s that Matt guy – one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.

There’s a reason why his blog has touched the hearts of hundreds and thousands… he is the real deal – a hero in his own right. The ultimate father, the ultimate husband, the ultimate human being.  

I spent Saturday night making this video… and as I dug for pictures of Liz in Matt’s Flickr account the tears welled up in my eyes, the lump in my throat. I wished I wasn’t making it at all. I wished none of us even knew him – just so he and Madeline could have her back again. Why is life so damn cruel? And why do the worst things always happen to the best people? 

On Thursday night Matt and I were eating at a very odd late night cafe in Chicago. 

“It won’t ever go away,” I told him, “It will just turn into this massive scar or like a third arm or something that you have to carry around all of the time. But no one else will ever be able to see it, that’s the shitty part.” 

He just nodded. Those beautiful eyes of his filled with the kind of pain no one should have to feel.

Between sporadic conversations about death – a subject I’m all too familiar with – we just had fun, pure fun.

Here’s Matt and my buddy Luke in the back of Jessica’s car. A single mom’s car… we thought it was funny.

Chicago is grand. Matt is grand. And I think, on some twisted and fucked up level, we are kindred spirits. I’ve actually been quite high on that fact for a few days now.

Making new friends is a very, very good thing.

So is traveling.

And there will be more of both in the very near future.  

—-

After pulling in from Chicago I spent a few hours in my apartment and then dashed over to Mia’s. 

No longer playing Monopoly or roller skating in her basement, we were sitting in her very adult living room while her daughter slept upstairs talking about how in the hell she is going to get through this. 

The pain Mia is experiencing is so familiar, yet so distant. Mine didn’t cheat on me but he hurt me… some men leave their women for another woman, others stay and ram it into their heads day after day. My words didn’t help much but I felt my presence would.

So I slept on her couch.

The next morning we were cleaning her kitchen. Stripping the refridgerator of memories – pictures, a lot of pictures – of Leah and him together. His arm clutching her around the shoulders. Her eyes sparkling from that well of her spirit, which is truly endless. 

Then, deep in her kitchen drawer we found a box of the letters we wrote to each other during elementary school, when we lived over 500 miles apart.

I’d like to say we opened them and read them, but we had shit to do – like move a massive dresser from my house to hers. Two single moms hauling a huge dresser in an alley, now that is a sight to see.

One knowing the other will pull through this… knowing her best friend will, in time, be free again – able to carry that limb around. And the other not sure what will become of her and the family she thought she had. 

Everything that was certain is now completely uncertain.

And there are no answers.

More posts from Mia are coming by the way. She wants to keep writing… and my blog is her blog. 

—-

On the way from Mia’s to Grandma’s and Benjamin, I stopped to visit Mr. Man.

I had to tell him the truth. He’s been missing me terribly – but I haven’t. I made my decision and many of you have written me e-mails, concerned that perhaps I was too rash – wondering if I may be too picky. But as soon as I e-mail the entire story back each of you has the same, simple reply — “Oh. I completely understand.”

He is surviving some major heart ache right now… and it’s not just because of me. These are old wounds. 

Again, I can’t go into the details. But Mr. Man is facing the test of his life. 

He’s also a friend and I will be there on the other side. I won’t be dating him but I will be there. 

—-

So then there’s sweet little Benjamin. 

With all of these stories around me – these people I care about so deeply going through so much pain – there’s one story that is still blissfully unchanged — Benjamin’s.

He’s been painting on his new easel every day. And just yesterday he figured out that if he globbed it all on at once he could rub his hands around in it, spread it on his face and then dash into Mommy’s bed after which she would proceed to freak out – pause – laugh – and grab the camera. 

If he’s not painting he’s playing with Woody and Buzz. Here is Buzz after Benjamin hurled him into the ground. I’m glad toys aren’t real.

And here he is about to mount his trusty steed (whose name is Patches) while wearing Mommy’s cowboy hat. Note paint – every where, along with sad old Christmas stuff. I can’t keep the place clean to save my life. I have officially quit, by the way, trying to clean.

Or talking Mommy’s ear off about the moon, the stars, dinosaurs and dragons. 

It dawned on my – just this week for some reason – that I have quite a happy little boy in my hands. 

It has all been worth it. Every minute of pain. That first year of absolute hell, trying to raise a baby on my own. 

Leaving him.

Escaping a bad situation.

And then maintaining that relationship so Benjamin could have a father, albeit not the best father, but a father.

I don’t know why it hadn’t hit me like this until now.

Maybe because Benjamin is finally becoming a real boy, a little boy – not a baby, not even a toddler – a boy. And he’s just so incredibly happy. I know all mothers say it, but my son is something else, something rare.

He was meant to be and I can not believe I had a hand in making him. 

—–

Oh, and here’s a little piece I wrote for We TV that has a little something to do with motherhood.  (The super hero girl is NOT me).

Apparently, I am the new Mommy Blogger there. A single mom speaking to all mothers. To say I’m honored would be an understatement. It’s my first “real” writing gig so please check it out.

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After Benjamin spends 36 hours with daddy I usually spend 48 hours repairing the damage. He’s extra needy and extra disobedient.

For example, I got home from work last night. Benjamin sees me – freaks out – and won’t let go. I seriously have to pee holding him in my arms while his dad fumbles around gathering up his stuff to head back to his girlfriend’s. Same scene every single week.

“It’s okay baby, I’m here, I’m here. Let daddy hold you for a second so mommy can change.” Nope. He proceeds to hold me in a death grip until his dad leaves. Sad for daddy, but what can I do? My kid and I are inseparable…

And then it’s time for damage control. Instead of hanging around the house (that he’s been stuck in all day with dad) we hop in the car for a super fun outing … last night it was house hunting and mountain climbing.

Tonight I picked him up from day care. Happy kid for approximately 45 minutes and then it begins. Hell. Toddler – Mommy hell. He’s been with dad for two days hell.

I was having a crappy day anyway. Tired, worn out. One word – progesterone. I’m usually much more up beat during the first two weeks of my cycle. TMI guys but hey – it’s the progesterone talking – so if you don’t like it … well, piss off! And, ladies, if you don’t know the difference between progesterone and estrogen look it up. You’ll freak out and say – “Oh, that’s why I wanted to kill someone yesterday.”

Anyway, I digress. Back to Benjamin and then I’ll get to the Barnes & Noble lady.

He doesn’t want to eat dinner so we head outside. And then…he takes off in a full sprint. He doesn’t just run down the driveway. No, he runs all the way down the sidewalk, up into the neighbors yard and then up the iron steps leading to the second story apartment. Yes, all the way up. His little fingers were just about to dip into mystery neighbor’s teeny tiny flower pots when I grabbed him.

I had to keep a very straight face because I wanted to laugh. I did. It was funny. These kinds of things make me laugh. I couldn’t care less what my neighbors think. I don’t have time to care. But I kept my straight, firm and mean mommy face as I carried him all the way back to the car and strapped him down. He’s screaming his brains out at this point and I’m ready to burst into tears.

Then we head to Barnes and Noble. Guaranteed fun and it’s right around the corner. Plus there was a new book I really, really wanted to buy – Rockabye: From Wild to Child.

I walk straight up to the customer service desk because I couldn’t find it on the shelf. There was a man behind the counter. Long hair, sexy all around, but he was helping someone else. I took my spot and waited. And then, she appeared, “Can I help you with anything?”

Sigh. She looks miserable. You know, those miserable people? The people you just want to punch because they’re just wasting space. (Progesterone). Anyway, she is one of those – clearly – because here I am holding an adorable two-year-old and she doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s there or that I am there for that matter.

Why can’t cute guy help me? Cute guy! Cute guy! Save me. But no.

“So what’s the title?” she asks.

“Rockabye.”

“How do you spell it?” Great. She’s also an idiot.

“R-o-c-k-a-b-y-e. It’s by Rebecca Woolf.”

“Here it is. From wild to child,” she’s reading this loudly as I’m holding my now fussing two-year-old, my hair disheveled, we’re both a dirty, gooey mess. She goes on to read the description, “A young woman discovers she is pregnant and gives up her wild ways for a child.” I imagine she does this every day. Just reads embarrassing descriptions out loud to mortify people who never buy books.

“Yes! That’s it.” I’m just pissed and then…

“Well we don’t have it. I can order it for you.” Bitch. (Progesterone).

“No, thanks, I’ll just try Amazon.” We immediately vere right to the kids section leaving her and cute guy behind.

P.S.

Benjamin and I had quite a wild time in the little kids section. SO much fun. They had a Thomas track set up. Hours of free entertainment…fyi. Do you have any great free outing ideas?

And check out the book and Rebecca’s blogs: Girls Gone Child and Straight from the Bottle.

P.P.S.

Sorry if this post is a bit “bitchy” on my part. Hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow.

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This is dedicated to every parent who hasn’t slept through the night for months and months. Until 10 days ago my 2 year old has been waking up nearly every night. I have had few all-nighters streaks but… on average he’s up at least once, maybe twice or three times a night.

Maybe I’m an idiot and every other mother knows this – but just in case I’m not -here’s how I got my toddler to sleep through the night.

I folded a nice, heavy quilt four times and laid it over the mattress, sheet and all. I put the soft, smooth side up. It gives him an extra three-four inches of coziness. So … he’s been sleeping, essentially, on a nice comfortable futon.

He’s been sleep straight through the night ever since. It’s a miracle. But…now that I know he’s going to sleep straight through I’ve been staying up later, having fun and hanging out with visiting friends and family. Hence this incredibly quick and poorly written entry.

***The pic is of my son, Benjamin and my fellow single mama’s son, Spencer.

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Benjamin is sick again! He started daycare in the early fall and this winter he keeps getting hit with sickness after sickness. That playdate I hosted turned into a big germ swap and now he has a horrible fever, night shivers, the whole nine yards. I think it’s because the other little guy at the playdate goes to a different daycare. So now he has an entirely new string of something nasty.

So this Monday I missed another day of work…I stopped counting the sick days I’ve taken so far this winter. The workaholic inside can’t digest missing so much time in the office. But I still swing into full mommy mode when he’s sick and know I have no choice but to stay home. I’m lucky though. I have an amazing job with a very understanding boss and can do much of my work from home.

What if I didn’t have a cushy job? What would I be doing right now?

One day, after a crazy night out, my friend and I popped into a Burger King for a hang over cure. It was early in the morning, maybe 9:30ish. A woman walked in with her two sons. They both ran up to the counter, “grandma! grandma!,” they shouted. Their grandmother ran around from behind the counter and scooped them both up in a hug. Thier mom stepped in, “okay boys, now sit down and be good for grandma.” The boys obeyed and took a seat in the restaurant. The mom looked at her mother, “I should be back by 1:00.” She was wearing a uniform herself, clearly off to her own job. Grandma said, “oh, it’s no problem, right Bob?” She looked at the manager of the store, he nodded in approval. Mom kissed her boys good bye and headed off to work. I thought I was going to burst into tears. The boys were swinging their little legs in their seats, twidling their fingers and starting to get ansy already. They had four hours left to go. I wanted to walk up and offer up my apartment for the afternoon. But in these moments, we usually don’t act. I didn’t. What could I have done, in reality, to help this woman? I’m not sure if she was a single mom or not, it doesn’t matter. She didn’t have a husband to save her from this moment.

I will never, ever forget seeing that and on my worst days I know that I really don’t have it that bad at all.

Sorry if this is a scattered and crazy entry. I am exhausted, have been working on projects all night. Going to crash for a bit before he wakes up again…hopefully he’ll wake up tomorrow feeling 100%. I hate seeing him sick like this.

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