Juggling

Ever since I became a parent, I've had to juggle.

Schedules. Transportation. Money. Priorities. Childcare.

When I became a single parent, I had to add holidays to that list.

Ex1 and I split just before Thanksgiving, so we immediately had to decide who got the kids for the holiday and who got to spend the day alone. Then Christmas, then New Years....on and on it went until all of the paperwork was signed and dated and we got into a routine.

Even when we did have a routine, things always changed. He has local family and I don't - so I've always tried to be flexible so that the kids didn't miss holiday celebrations with their extended families. Then other kids came along, and ultimately other schedules - and for me, trying to keep all of my kids together for holidays became a huge juggling act no matter what day we actually celebrated whatever holiday it was.

I admit that I tried to be difficult about it at times. Sometimes I got my way, and sometimes I didn't. But somehow I always managed to squeeze some sort of holiday celebration into whatever time the 6 of us had together.

Yesterday, The Dude and I had to make another crazy road trip to Kansas City, and at some point during the drive it suddenly dawned on me that Easter is this weekend. EASTER IS THIS WEEKEND. How did that happen?

My brain went into overdrive while I tried to figure out how to make Easter happen within the walls of the house since it was obviously going to happen in the real world no matter what. I already know that I have no chance of having the older 3 kids at all during the weekend because Ex1 and his wife are returning from a weeklong missions trip out of the country and her parents are in town, so they're going to want the kids. Alex's father already made plans to take him for at least a day or two and I'm not going to stand in the way of that. So maybe we can do Easter the following weekend - but I'm running a half-marathon that Saturday, so I'm going to be useless for the rest of the weekend. So maybe we can do it during the week instead and who am I trying to kid because that would just be insane.

Then suddenly it dawned on me......wait a second. Friday. The kids don't have school. They'll all be here until about noonish when the older 3 have to head back to Ex1's.

The solution was as simple as breakfast. We'll have a huge breakfast Friday morning, like a big Good Friday/Easter breakfast, and they can get their Easter baskets and we can be pigs and eat junk all morning and then the older 3 can go where they need to go and we got our time together for the holiday (and then realistically, I don't have to cook a big dinner because we had a big breakfast so I'm actually getting off easy here) and it's all good.

So while I was in the kitchen prepping cinnamon rolls for tomorrow's breakfast feast, Emily teamed up with the Easter Bunny to fill the baskets (including the eggs that we dyed earlier tonight) and then I got the kitchen cleaned up and ready for morning - including loading up the coffee pot so that it's ready to go.

The constant juggling is hard. There have been times when I've felt as though I've had 87 different things up in the air all at once - some of them were on fire, some of them came at me like bricks while others floated around like feathers, some of them crumbled into dust as soon as I touched them, and some of them slammed to the ground and shattered because I didn't have enough hands to catch them all.

I think that the most important thing that I've learned over the past decade+ of single parenting is that no matter what, everything is going to work out in the end. We might not get exactly what we want but sometimes the best gift we can give our kids is to show them that we can be flexible and make the most out of any situation. We might not get our big Easter dinner as a family, but we're going to have a hell of a breakfast together before they go off in different directions.

And then I'm going to sit back with a giant cup of coffee and relax for a little bit. Just because.

Almost there...

Less than a week until school starts.

The majority of the school supplies have been purchased, parent/teacher conferences are scheduled, sports practices have already begun, and it's only a matter of time before I dump the kids off at the front door of the school and do the happy dance on the way out of the parking lot.

I love my kids. I really do.

But I can not wait until they are back in school. Seriously.

I've never been one of those moms who greets the new school year with "but I'm going to miss my babies so much" or "I just can't bear the thought of my darling angels being gone all day" or any of that jazz.

Instead, I'm over here saying "finally, I can poop in peace!"

After dedicating the past 3ish months to them morning, noon, and night (and then some), I'm ready for some quality ME-time.

I'm ready to deal with the morning drama, take them to school, and then go for a run.

I'm ready to go to the grocery store - alone - and not feel frazzled the entire time I'm there (or come home with a bunch of crap that I didn't plan to buy).

I'm ready to help Emily get her Crayons for a Cause up and running.

I'm ready to hide out in the Mom Cave and work on lots of new projects. I have so many ideas for things that I want to get made in addition to the normal routine of the weighted blankets, and it's so hard to get any of that done when the kids are home - but with 7-8 hours of peace every day I can get so much done without feeling like I'm neglecting them. 

And I'm totally ready for Date Day with The Dude - on Tuesday, the first day of school, he and I are packing a cooler and our fishing poles and we are taking off for the lake as soon as the kids are safely at school and we're going to just hang out together all day. We might have just spent a solid 2 weeks together, but we did not get any time alone - and ever since we got back we've both been busy taking care of stuff and haven't really had a chance to really see each other - so I called him today and officially asked him out on a date. And he said yes.  (I think he likes me.)

I've been told before that I'm selfish because I enjoy my time "too much" when the kids are in school. Maybe it is selfish of me, but I look at it this way - I am here for these kids 24/7, whether they're in school or not. I'm lucky enough to not have to work a "real" job so I can spend the entire summer with them and it's awesome. But when they're in school, I get to do what I want to do when I want to do it. I finally get to do stuff for ME, without taking away time from them. I can sneak away for a day and go fishing with The Dude without having to worry about finding someone to keep an eye on them. I can hide in the Mom Cave all day and not worry about who is going to fix them lunch (because I already packed it before they walked out the door that morning). I can go for a run to clear my head and keep myself healthy without wondering if they're burning the house down while I'm gone. And if I want to take a nap in the middle of the day, I can do it without fearing judgment from someone who might show up at the door for some unknown reason.

And if all of that is selfish, then so be it. I know that having the time to myself while they're in school makes me a more relaxed person, which helps me to be a better mother. And I'm ok with that.

5 days, 4 hours, and 45 minutes....... give or take a few......

Separating the anger

A few months ago, I wrote a piece about how 15 miles was too far for my son's father to travel to spend time with him. At that point, it had been a year with no contact.

Today would have been 15 months and 5 days, except that I woke up to a text from him.

"I have made mistakes and I no I am wrong. I miss alex like crazy and it is killing me not seeing him. Can I please set up a time to see him. I will pick him up and bring him back and do what ever it takes so that I can see him again on a regular basis." 

I knew for a fact that I was dreaming so I rolled back over and went back to sleep for another 30 minutes or so. When I woke up again, I looked at my phone a second time. And then a third. I put it back down on the nightstand and stared at the ceiling for a while. Looked at it again. Got up and went to the bathroom to make sure that I was really awake and then looked at it again.

Then the anger started to build. It simmered for a while and I considered sending back an extremely nasty text including everything that I was really honestly feeling at that particular moment, but I held back. I knew I had to calm down. A lot. I texted The Dude and clued him in, and he was as angry as I was.

Finally, I responded a few hours later.

"I woke up to this and I've been trying to figure out how to respond ever since. I told you the last time you walked out of his life and then suddenly reappeared that it would never happen again - and that time was only 4 months. Now, it's been 15 months and 5 days.  There is no excuse. There is no way to make up for that. Being a parent is a 24/7 job to ALL of your kids, not just the ones who are convenient to you. Coming into town for softball games and to go to the pool and not contacting him is beyond despicable. Not calling him, or sending a text, or being at any of his school or sports events is unforgivable. Lying to your family and blaming all of this on me? Grow up. And you're not going to just waltz back in and pick up where you chose to leave off over a year ago."

(Yeah, I tend to get a little long-winded when I'm angry.)

Discussion (via text) ensued and lasted most of the day. I tried hard to contain my anger and sarcasm (except where I pointed out that even if one is working "out of town", there's a nifty invention called a 'phone' that can be used to maintain contact)  as much as I could, but it was hard.

Finally this evening, The Dude came over to take Daniel to baseball practice. The older 3 kids are still on vacation with Ex1, so Alex and I sat down to talk. I told him that I had gotten a text from his father this morning, and gave him the basic rundown of the discussion.

I did not say anything nasty about his father. I did not say anything hateful or mean or even snarky. I gave him the facts. We talked. We discussed. I listened.

And then I told him this:

"How I feel about your father is totally separate from how you feel about him. I'm upset with him for a lot of grown up stuff that has more to do with responsibility and obligations. But that's my problem with him, not yours. You can feel however you want to feel, and that's ok - if you want to see him, I will make it happen. And if you don't, you don't have to."

You know, I think this is the hardest part of this single parenting thing. And I don't think that I truly got it until today. And I think that there are a lot of parents out there who don't get it.

It doesn't matter how we feel about the other parent. It really doesn't. It's not about us.

It's about the kids.

Should Alex choose to see his father again (and he probably will), I have to completely put my anger and resentment aside and make it happen. His father is not a bad person in the grand scheme of things. Irresponsible, yes. Not good at setting priorities? You betcha'. Bad person? Not so much.

Alex is still at that age where no matter what, his father walks on water. He knows that his father hasn't been around, but he's still young enough that he just wants to see him. I know that as he gets older, he'll understand more about what's happened - but for now, he has his eye on the prize and as much as I hate it, I have to allow him to make the choice. My only consolation is that no matter what happens, I know for a fact that I'll never walk away from this kid. Ever.

After our talk, we got ice cream and went for a walk by the river.
Believe it or not, there's a dam under all of that water.
Stupid rain.

A push

I got pushed today. Not really pushed, but more like shoved. And smacked around a bit.

It actually started about a week ago. I'm in a whole bunch of groups on facebook, but one of them is a small group of local ladies who all run. I met several of them when I did the half-marathon in October, and they are awesome. But since that race, I haven't done anything to get in shape, or to even maintain the bleh shape that I was in when I did that race. Nothing. I haven't even gone for a walk.

So....like I said, a week-ish ago, this post caught my eye.....

Two miles a day for 2 weeks, I thought. I might be able to do that. So I agreed.

Of course, when I agreed, the weather was decent. Today, on the first day of the challenge? Yeah. Not so much.

I thought about waiting until later in the day (notice the time on that shot is 7:35am), but I had so much going on that I knew that if I didn't do it as soon as I dropped the kids off at school, I wasn't going to do it. And if I missed the first day, then I wouldn't do the challenge at all - because that's the way that my mind works. And I also knew that I had an appointment at 9am so if I was going to do it, I had to do it right then and there. I threw on an extra layer of clothes, cursed the girls in that group as I felt them virtually shove me out the door, and took off.

It. was. cold.

OMG it was cold. There was just enough wind that it was absolutely miserable as I started walking into it, and I came *thisclose* to turning around and going straight back to the house. But, it was a challenge. And I knew that if I got going, once I got to a certain point on my predetermined route, I could turn and have the wind at my back.

And then my mind started to wander in typical brain dump fashion. I'm not going to bore you with the total stream of consciousness train of thought that went in a bajillion different directions at a speed that blew my mind, but it was intense.

Ultimately, I thought about how parents tend to always put their kids first. I mean, really, who wouldn't? We have these little humans that depend on us for everything (more or less) and so we have to make sure that they're taken care of because that's our job, right? And we run ourselves ragged taking care of them and doing the things that parents do because it's what we're supposed to do and it's what we're expected to do - and we put ourselves last, sometimes to our own detriment.

I am so guilty of this, as most people know. I don't do squat for myself except maybe sit on my butt on the couch with a glass of wine once in a while (speaking of which...... I'm thirsty). And while taking care of the kids is all well and good (and ultimately, necessary) I realized....

I have to start taking better care of myself.

It seriously hit me like a smack upside the head. It's something that I've always known in the back of my mind, but I've ignored it because it seems like anytime parents (and yes, especially a mom) put themselves first, they are ripped to shreds by society. They are called selfish, self-centered, irresponsible, or bad parents.

I have been called all sorts of horrible names in the past because I am grateful when the kids go back to school after a long weekend or summer break. It's not that I want to get rid of my kids, but it's because I know that I can use that time away from them to work on things that *I* need to do to make me a better parent. Sometimes, it's mundane tasks like folding laundry and scrubbing toilets because I know that if I get those done while the kids are gone, I can spend more quality time with them when they return. And sometimes it's things like going for a run or taking a nap, because I need some time to do something that is completely and totally for me and for me only.

But even those things that I do for me and for me only end up benefiting the kids because guess what? When I get to do them, I'm in a better mood.

Better mood = better mom.

And seriously, who can argue with that train of thought when a view like this is staring you in the face while it's happening?

I came back from that run this morning feeling like it was ok to want to get back into running again. Like it's ok to finally commit to doing something for myself. Like maybe, just maybe, I can actually succeed at this 2-week challenge, and then continue on from there.

It's amazing how much my perspective can change in one 33 minute chunk of time.

And maybe, just maybe, in 2 weeks I can shave more than a few minutes off of that pathetic time. Assuming that I don't freeze a few limbs off in the process.

Care to bet on that, kids?

Today was not the best day in the world around here.

I haven't talked much about how I discipline my kids, mainly because I don't feel like being criticized by those who don't agree with me and because unless you know my specific situation I can promise you that you don't know the best way to deal with my kids. Being a single mother with this many kids and fathers with different levels of involvement in their lives makes it harder to use one form of discipline with all of the kids. There are times when I have to handle each kid differently, even within the same situation.

I am one person and I am not a perfect parent by any stretch of the imagination. I know that, and I admit that. But at the same time, I do the best that I can at any moment in time. So if you want to trash me for my parenting skills, I'm opening myself up for it tonight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I have not been in the best mood today, and that was made worse by the way that the kids acted for about 95% of the day. They would play nicely for about a minute, and then the next thing I knew they were screaming at each other or beating the crap out of each other or taking each others' toys or whatever. I mean, I know we all have bad days, but holy wow this one was ugly.

Just a small portion of the mess.

And when they get into moods like this, they do NOT listen to me. At all. The boys had gotten out a ton of toys and had them spread all over the living room. I told them numerous times to put them away and they literally just laughed at me. I tried a couple of different tactics, but none of them worked.

Finally I told them that if they didn't pick up the toys, I would do it for them, and the toys would be gone. They looked at me like "whatever!" and continued playing. So I just let it go....

After they were given a final chance to clean up before bedtime and refused, I made up my mind. I got a hold of The Dude to see if he had any big trash bags that he could bring over (plus it gave me an excuse to see him) - so he came over after they were asleep and helped me bag up every. single. toy. in the living room. All of them.

And then we stashed the bag deep in the garage.

Whenever I've gone on a garbage bag rampage before, I've always just left the bag somewhere around the house where they could see it, and then eventually when they straightened up they could get the stuff back. This time, it's not visible. As far as they're concerned, the crap is gone, never to be seen again.

They're going to be mad at me when they realize it in the morning. And at this point, after the way that they acted all day today - I don't really care.

Maybe it's a bit harsh. But then again maybe it's what they need to realize that I expect more of them. I expect them to pick their crap up when they're told to do it. I expect them to listen and to follow directions. I expect them to respect each other, their toys, and me. And if they can't do that, they lose their stuff. Period.

I'm quite sure that we can find any number of places to donate the toys to if they don't figure out how to behave.

If you want to see a perfect parent...

....you'd better not be looking at me.

The Tooth Fairy letter got posted on another page today. And as usual, the haters came out to play.

Usually it doesn't bother me. I've heard pretty much all of it. But this time, they were a little more harsh than usual. I was called some pretty colorful names, and was my parenting ever questioned this time!

But you know what? As much as it annoyed me, it got me thinking.

People are so quick to judge other parents. But why? Are there any perfect parents out there?

I'm not perfect. I freely admit that on a regular basis. My kids aren't perfect either.

I curse in front of my kids. Not all the time, but it happens.
My house isn't perfectly clean. Sometimes, it's downright disgusting.
I usually manage to get a shower every day - but not always.
My kids' rooms are usually a mess.
I spank my kids when they need it - but it's not often.
We eat more junk food than we should.
Sometimes we eat out because I just don't feel like doing the dishes.
The kids probably get away with more mischief than they should.
I don't keep everyone on a set schedule, and I don't always enforce bedtime.
Sometimes I have to bribe my kids to get things done around the house.
I sometimes breathe a sigh of relief when they aren't home, and maybe enjoy the peace and quiet a little more than I should - and I don't always feel guilty about it.

People don't always agree with my parenting style, and that's ok. I was raised by parents who were significantly older than most parents of kids my age and I grew up in an age when a parent could backhand an unruly kid in the middle of the grocery store without anyone else batting an eye. I'm not scarred for life by how I was raised - in fact, I think it made me a better person in the end (although it took me a very long time to admit that).

Who would have thought that such
a silly letter would cause so much
of an uproar???

But for all of my perceived failures as a parent, I think that my kids are turning out pretty darned good. They are all above-average students and for the most part they're pretty well-behaved (although they all have their moments). And I sincerely believe that part of that is because their parents don't put up with any crap. We are not the type of parents (me, their fathers, their stepmothers, The Dude) to coddle our kids and protect them from every single little thing and give them participation trophies just for showing up. They have responsibilities, and if they don't do them, there are consequences, period.

There are no perfect parents. People need to remember that once in a while - especially before they run their mouths and judge someone else's parenting based on a random letter floating around the internet.

I'm not going to lie...

...but there are days when I wonder if I'm really cut out for this whole motherhood thing.

Things have not been going smoothly here in the Non-Stop household lately. I'm not sure what happened, or when it happened, but something happened.

Maybe it's cabin fever. The kids can't get outside and play as much as I would like them to.... partially because of the weather, or schedules, or sickness, or I have too much to do and can't go outside with them to make sure that they're safe.

Maybe it's the stress of living in a too-small house for far too long.

Maybe it's the pressures of school and sports and church and social activities.

Maybe it's the constant perceived lack of money as we curb our spending in order to get moved to a bigger house.

Maybe it's all of the above. Maybe it's not.

Whatever it is - it is taking a toll on all of us. There has been so much bickering, so much fighting, so much meanness and spitefulness and anger and disappointment and sorrow and even hate.

And I hate it. It makes me question everything. All of my past experiences come bubbling up to the surface and I start to question my every move.

Am I doing the right thing by taking away this privilege? 

Should I really have just said that to that child? 

What was I thinking when I allowed that to happen?

Is there maybe a better way to handle this situation?

Am I being fair?

Do they have even an inkling of how hard I am trying to be a good mother?

So many questions going through my mind right now as we desperately try to work through these growing pains that we are experiencing. And I haven't figured out a single answer yet. I sit here and I think and I try to come up with the magical solution, yet I know that there isn't one. What might have worked today might not work tomorrow. Parenthood is an ever-changing game, and one that doesn't have rigid rules that never change.

There have been times recently when I've been on the verge of giving up and throwing in the towel. Sometimes the stress and the uncertainty is unreal and overwhelming and totally unmanageable. But I know that no matter what, I am trying my hardest. I might not make the best decisions as a parent. I might make the wrong decisions sometimes. I might really really screw up sometimes. But I also know without a doubt that I love those kids more than anything else in the world - and no matter what, we are going to get through this whatever-it-is.

I might not be sane by the time that they grow up and are out of the house, but I'll get through it.

And so will they.

Just another sunrise ..... they can still take my breath away.

Listen to the parents - even if they're not yours.

OK, let me preface this by saying that I'm really aggravated right now.

No, I'm really seriously pissed. And for anyone who has been reading this blog for a while, you know that I don't usually use language like that. (OK, not here. Real life is different.)

Alex's first day of school - last year

Alex's father called me today and wanted to know what Alex still needed for school supplies. Well, considering that school starts in 3 days, he already has pretty much everything. I knew that he was missing one or two things but I wasn't sure what, so I told him I'd check and call him back. As it turns out, he just needed some twist-up colored pencils. That's it. Nothing else in the "supplies" category. So I called his father back and told him that.

He proceeded to tell me that he was at the store with his grandmother and she wanted to get school supplies. Again, I told him that he only needed the pencils. He said "well, she wants to get him a backpack too". I told him NO - he has a backpack. He is using the same one from last year, just like the other 4 kids are doing. He used it to carry maybe 2 pieces of paper back and forth each day, and it's still in perfect condition. He doesn't need a new one. I told him that if she really felt the need to buy something, to buy some underwear and socks - because that's what he NEEDS. I also told him that he doesn't need any new clothes or anything like that, but the socks and underwear are really a necessity at this point.

So he stopped by a little bit later to drop the stuff off - including a new backpack. Yes, he bought the pencils, and I am thankful for that. And 2 pairs of pants, that are literally 3 sizes too big. And 2 pairs of shorts - again 3 sizes too big. And a bunch of shirts - guess what? too big. And one pack of underwear and one pack of socks.

So why am I pissed? I should be thankful that he's buying anything, since he can't stick to a reasonable schedule to save his life. He can go out shopping with his grandmother, but can't stop to pick up his kid and spend a few hours with him. I'm pissed because I told him specifically not to get a backpack - and he did. It's not needed, and it's not wanted. Truth be told, when Alex saw it, his first words were "Dad, I don't need that - I already have one". And seriously, while he may only have 1 child over here, I have 5. Getting one kid a new backpack when it's not needed makes it hella hard to justify to the other kids that they don't need a new backpack as well. I am also not the type of person that feels that a kid needs to have a new backpack every year - if the one that we already have is fine, use it again! And seriously, the one that he used last year is in PERFECT condition because actually, now that I think about it, he only used it for a couple of months because the zipper broke on the first one that he had - so realistically, he already has a new one.

I'm pissed because he can't buy him clothes that FIT. Yes, he's a big kid, so his clothes do need to be a little bigger - but not 3 sizes! He told me "oh you can just put them aside for him to grow into" - well what's the point of that? He'll grow into the jeans maybe by next summer - when it's too hot to wear them, and then will turn around and outgrow them before school next year.

One 5-pack of underwear - when I told him that this was the one thing that he needed, and he got one pack. I'm sorry, but this is the kid who still has some toileting issues. Five pairs will last maybe 3 days. UGH!!!!

Bottom line is this - if you want to buy something for a kid, ask the parent (or guardian or whoever) what the kid needs. And if the parent says that something is needed, be respectful and get that. And if the parent says that something is NOT needed - show that same respect and DON'T. GET. IT.

Unless you ask, you don't know the reasons behind why a kid needs or doesn't need something. A kid might need more underwear because he/she has a lot of toileting accidents - but because you're not around a whole lot, you don't know that. You might be told not to buy a kid a toy because maybe the kid has been having behavioral issues at home and the parent doesn't feel that the kids needs it right now. You might be asked not to buy something for one kid because then the other kid feels slighted.

Point of the matter is - you may not know the reasoning. But when a parent says "yes, please get _______" or "no, please don't get _______" you need to listen. The parent has reasons - and unless you see that the kids are being neglected or put in danger, please respect those reasons.

Now, I have two choices.

1. Find a place in this tiny-little zero-storage house to put the backpack, the shorts, and the jeans aside until they can be used (maybe in a couple of years).

2. Take all of the stuff, figure out when I have an hour or two of spare time, and return it to the store and exchange it for the stuff that he NEEDS.

UGH! Seriously - I am so mad right now! Maybe I'm overreacting. But come on - I am with this kid 24/7 - I know what he needs! If you ask me what he needs, and then turn around and don't listen, why did I waste my breath??? Why????

OK, rant over. Have at it. Tell me I'm the one who is being ridiculous - because seriously, I don't know if I'm overreacting to this or not. But this is how I'm feeling right now.

You might think it's silly, but....

I'm all sorts of proud of myself right now. It's not like I did anything spectacular or anything, but still....

I bought new bras tonight.

I know, I know. Big deal, right? Well, to me it kind of is a big deal.

I'm not the type of person to go out and spend money on myself. We've been so broke for so long that there has always been something more important that needed funding rather than my pathetic wardrobe. The kids needed shoes, or we needed groceries, or that pesky electric bill had to be paid, or whatever. So I've worn the same old ratty nasty ugly bras for probably 10 years now - literally. In fact, right now, I am currently wearing a maternity bra that I bought after I had Emily - and she will be 11 next month.

A few weeks ago I told myself that I was going to go out and buy some new ones - you know, before we go on vacation. But then, I kept putting it off again. One...because I hate to spend money on myself, and two...because I hate to shop. I mean, I really hate to shop.

But today was one of those days where I was just so restless. I did my usual cleaning and laundry (and washed and dried and folded those same ugly bras one more time) but I really just wanted to get out of the house. So, as kind of a spur of the moment thing, I grabbed the boys and took off and went shopping. It was an experience - since I refuse to shop at WalHell, I had to drive 30 miles to get to a Target (not that Target is that much better, but at least it isn't WalHell) and in the process had to dodge about 87 construction zones and 423 idiot drivers.

The shopping part wasn't too horrible, other than the boys making smart comments about being in the "booby holder" section of the store (where do they pick this stuff up???) and occasionally smacking each other upside the head. Of course, being the eternal cheapskate I had to scope out the clearance racks first (fail) before I went to the regular ones. But, I still found some inexpensive ones that were decent - and then it dawned on me: I'd have to try them on to make sure that they fit.

Ugh. Really?

I thought about just chancing it and not testing them first, but I knew if I did that I would end up with ones that didn't fit, and I'd have to continue wearing the same old ratty nasty ugly ones again. And since I've lost weight, I wasn't exactly sure what size to get. So I gritted my teeth and braved the fitting room with two slightly-obnoxious little boys.

Long story short, I walked out of the store with 6 brand new bras - for a whopping $36. (Told you, I'm a cheapskate.) But before we left we wandered around the store for a while and I picked up a couple of other odds and ends that we needed, including a new pair of flip-flops for Daniel to wear on vacation.

It's kind of funny that something this trivial seems like a semi-big deal to me, but seriously, I don't buy things for myself. And I think that's a trap that a lot of parents (and especially single parents) fall into - we get so caught up in making sure that the kids have everything that they need (and/or want), and we forget about ourselves. We forget that we have needs too - and sometimes those needs are just as important as the kids' needs. We forget that we have to take care of ourselves - and realistically, if we don't do it, who is?

I did make a promise to myself tonight - no matter how tight money is in the future, I will not wait another 10 years to buy new bras.

Here we go again.

March 4, 2012.

6 weeks ago. 42 days.

That's how long it's been since Alex last saw his father. He took him overnight the night before that, if I remember correctly, and brought him back that afternoon. Since then? Not a visit, not a phone call, not a text. Nothing. Why?

Beats the crap out of me.

I'm sure he'll show up here at some point with a long line of excuses again, just like he did last summer when he disappeared for 4 full months. And he'll promise to do better, and to stick to a schedule, and assure me that it's really not his fault but he's just been too busy.

Alex will be ecstatic, and will talk about nothing else except for the time that he gets to spend with his father, because he worships the ground that he walks on. But that's ok, because that's what a relationship between a father and a son is supposed to be like.

It'll be good for a while. And then he'll start to not show up again. And I'll have to constantly explain to Alex that I don't know why his father isn't coming to get him. And we'll play the same game over and over again.

I've already had to explain to Alex that he missed his sister's birthday party because she was having an all-girl sleepover party and boys weren't allowed - but I haven't been able to come up with a good excuse for why he didn't get to see her at all for her birthday.

When he asked me why he didn't get to see his father during Spring Break, all I could offer him was the usual "I don't know, honey" and give him a hug.

Same thing for Easter. He really wanted to show his father his Easter basket too.

I catch him looking out the window, waiting to see if his father is going to come and get him. Every single time, it breaks my heart. We've talked about it. I've tried my best to explain to him that sometimes things just don't work out and that I'm sure at some point he'll get to see his father again. The sad thing is that he doesn't even really get upset about it anymore. He's pretty much just come to accept it. We go about our lives and we don't sit around to wait for him to show up anymore. We take our spur-of-the-moment road trips and we go do our thing and we have fun. I deal with the sickness and the behavior issues and the homework and the doctor appointments whether or not they fit into my schedule, because that's what a parent does. A parent doesn't brush off his/her kid because life is too crazy.

A good parent brushes off the craziness of life to make time for his/her kid.

I can't even be sick in peace.

WARNING: This post contains a self-indulgent pity party. I feel like crap and I feel like whining. If you don't like whining and complaining, don't read it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A while back, I posted a little bit of a rant about being a single parent. Today was another one of those days where I really wanted to take the whole Single Parent thing and throw it out the damned window.

I didn't feel good last night. OK, honestly, I felt like death. I went to bed at 9:30 under multiple layers of clothes and a super thick cushy blanket that was in the dryer on high for an hour, and still shivered myself to sleep. I woke up a few times during the night, drenched with sweat but still cold. My alarm went off at 7:00 this morning, and honestly, all I wanted to do was cry. I didn't want to go anywhere or do anything.

I yelled for Alex to get up (luckily he's a light sleeper) and he got up and got himself dressed for school (another bonus) and then announced that his bed was soaked. Great. Add another couple of loads of laundry to the list of things to be done today.

Anyway, he got himself ready for school and I threw on a scuzzy sweatshirt, picked Daniel up (still in his PJs) and we headed to the van. I drove Alex to school, praying the whole time that none of the staff would flag me down for some unknown reason and ask me to come inside for a quick meeting.

Daniel and I got home a few minutes later (the entire school run for Alex takes all of about 6 minutes) and he put a movie in and I laid back down.

Now before anyone gets all sorts of pissed off at me for laying back down, keep in mind that I do not have a bedroom in this house. I sleep on a futon in the living room. So if the kids get into anything, I hear them - I'm not that sound of a sleeper, sick or not. It's not like I'm locking myself into a bedroom at the other end of the house or on a different floor.

Anyway, I laid around and relaxed for a little while longer, but I couldn't stay there. I had too much to do. There was laundry that had to be done (I refuse to allow peed-on sheets to lay around and ferment) and dishes that had to be done and just stuff that had to be done.

And guess what? When I'm sick - no one does it for me.

I took Daniel to school and then came back home and straightened up a little bit because one of the staff from his school was coming over for a meeting. I was starting to feel somewhat better by this point so we got the meeting out of the way.

And then of course I had to go back and pick the boys up from school...then we came back here for a bit, and then we had an errand to run, and then I decided to take them to the park for a while. I figured that the fresh air would do me some good, and maybe it would wear them out enough that they would go to bed early.

And considering the beautiful weather that we're having again today....

Apparently he didn't get the memo that it's November 1 and he needs to take his van and his annoying music and go away.

Unfortunately, due to the brutal heat and dryness of the summer, we aren't getting the beautiful colors of fall. We're getting wilted leaves that then fall off of the trees.

So anyway, they played for about an hour and had a great time, and then we stopped at Wendy's to get some supper and came home. They ate, they got a bath, and they went to bed. Mission accomplished. Even though I still feel like regurgitated dog poo, at least the kids are fed, bathed, and in bed - and now I can do everything else around the house that still needs to be done.

Because no one else is going to do it.

A "real" single parent

This is something that has been irritating me for a while. I see it all of the time and every time I do, it really ticks me off. For the most part, when people do things like this, I can just let it roll off my back and not get terribly irritated by it, but this has been happening more and more lately.

I see and hear parents making comments such as these:

"My husband/boyfriend is out of town for a week, so I get to be a single mom until he comes back."

"My wife/girlfriend has the flu, so I have to be a single dad until she's better."

"My boyfriend/husband has been working a lot of hours lately, so I feel like a single mom."

"My spouse is deployed, so I'm a single parent for the next 6 months."

OK, people - let's get something straight.

If you have a spouse/partner/significant other who is the biological/adoptive/stand-in mother/father to your child, you are NOT a single parent.

So the other parent is out of town for a few days....suck it up. You're not a single parent.

The other parent doesn't feel well? Not your ticket to single parenthood.

Other parent works a lot? Be thankful and deal with it.

Spouse is deployed? First off, thank you both for your sacrifices, but it still doesn't make you a single parent.

Why do I say these things? Because until you are truly a single parent, you will NEVER understand what it's like.

Just because your spouse (or partner or significant other or whatever) is out of town, you are not a single parent. Your spouse is still supporting you emotionally even if he/she isn't just in the next room. Assuming that your spouse works, there is financial support. Most importantly, your spouse will eventually come home and step back into the role of the other parent.

A real single parent doesn't have this.

Yes, my older 3 kids spend half of their time with their father. I have help with them in that respect.

Alex and Daniel are with me 24/7. Alex's father walked out of his life several months ago, and Daniel's father passed away. Yes, I get child support for Alex and yes, I get Social Security for Daniel. So there is financial support. But there is no one there to help with decision-making. No one to help decide which school to get them into. No one to help pick out a new bike for them. No one to help get them to and from appointments or school or playdates. No one to stay with the kids for a few minutes while I run to the store to get the milk that I forgot to get earlier. If I'm sick, guess what? I don't get to lay around and take naps until I feel better - I have to suck it up and continue being a parent because there is no one else to do it.

There is no one to put down as an emergency contact if I can't be reached.

Think about that - I am their one and only emergency contact. I'm it. No one else.

If something happens to me, what happens to them?

That, my friends, is a single parent.

I think the one that irks me the most is when people say "I get to be a single parent until...." like it's an honor or something. Trust me, it's not. Being a single parent sucks most of the time.

Yes, there are perks. I can load up my kids and take a road trip and not worry about asking permission or making different visitation arrangements. I know that they get consistent discipline because I am the only one dishing it out. I have 'the power' when it comes to decision-making. But guess what? I don't always want 'the power'. Sometimes it would be nice to be able to say "ask your father" instead of being the bad guy and having to say no. It would be nice to be able to run out to the grocery store and not have to drag all of the kids with me because there's no one to watch them while I go.

Don't get me wrong - I have friends who do help me out when I need it. I can generally find someone to watch the kids if I have to go do something and they can't (or shouldn't) go with me. But to go to the grocery store? They go with me. To run errands? They go with me.

School starts this week, and soon I will have a few hours each day when all of my kids are in school. I've been asked what I'm going to do with all of that "spare time"....

I'm going to go to the grocery store. Alone.
I'm going to go to the library. Alone.
I'm going to take showers and shave my legs without refereeing fistfights on the other side of the shower curtain.
I'm going to make appointments for things that need to be done that I've been putting off for months so that I can get them done. Alone.
I'm going to start taking better care of myself and get back into my walking/jogging routine because I will finally have time to do it.

I'm going to do all of the things that many non-single parents get to do on a regular basis and often take for granted. I might even *gasp* get to go out to lunch with a friend occasionally and be able to have an uninterrupted conversation.

Being a parent is hard. Being a single parent is just as hard, if not harder. Not all single parents are single by choice - some are single due to the death of their spouse, or infidelity, or a multitude of other reasons. To just flippantly say "I get to be a single parent for a few days/weeks/months..." is downright insulting to many real single parents.

So...parents WITH partners, wherever they may be - think twice before comparing yourself to a single parent. And the next time you are filling out paperwork for your child, be thankful that there is someone to put on that "Emergency Contact" line.

The most terrifying thing in the world to me...

OK, confession time.

Conversations have come up recently on various blogs and facebook posts about things that people fear. Of course, there are the usual culprits - spiders, snakes, mice, bugs, dentists (oh, wait, that's one of mine), flying (also mine), crossing bridges, things like that.

But honestly, none of those things bother me that much in the grand scheme of things. (Well, maybe dentists...)

My biggest fear in the world is....

Ready?

Dating.

Yep. There you have it. I said it. And my skin immediately began to crawl. Literally. The little hairs on my arms are standing up on end from just thinking about it.

Ever since Ex2 and I split up over 2 years ago, people have asked me when I was going to start dating again. At first, it was easy to brush it off. I had too much drama in my life due to the separation from him, too many bills to pay, too much legal stuff to deal with, too many emotions related to the whole thing. My life was just too much.

But now, things have calmed down. A LOT. Mentally, I'm in a much better place. We are situated in our new home, ghetto-like as it may be. I have dependable wheels. Our financial situation has improved, and the bills are getting paid. I'm taking better care of myself, and I feel better about myself in general.

So why is dating so terrifying to me?

It's not that I haven't had the opportunity. I've gone out on several dates in the past few months. Most of the guys have been wonderful (well, there was that one, but we won't go there....) and they have treated me well. But then I freak out and I push them away. Why do I do this?

I admit, I'm independent. Maybe too independent. There aren't many things around the house that I can't do by myself. I don't "need" a man to help me mow the grass (well, except for today when the mower decided to take a dump and die in the middle of the back yard) or to replace a faulty light switch or to take out the trash. I can do all of that on my own.

I like being single. I like not having someone watching over my shoulder, criticizing me for every little thing that I might do wrong. I like being able to drink my Diet Pepsi straight out of the 2-liter bottle in the fridge with no one pestering me about it. I like being able to nuke a frozen meal for supper if I don't feel like cooking. I like being able to buy the food that *I* want to buy at the grocery store. I like being able to just pack up and go on a road trip with a girlfriend (or by myself) whenever I want to do it. I even like waking up alone, because I am NOT pleasant in the morning and the last thing I want to deal with when I first wake up is a morning person.

But at the same time, I hate being single. I hate that when I sit down to watch a late-night movie, the only guys that I generally have with me are Ben & Jerry (not that I don't love them, but you know what I mean). I hate falling asleep alone. I hate not having someone to keep the kids amused so that I can take a shower without having to be a referee for the fist fights that happen on the other side of the shower curtain. I hate that I can't keep up with my running/walking routine because I don't have someone who can watch the kids for me while I go. I really hate that I have to call 911 when I hear a noise that terrifies me because I don't have someone who can go out and check on it for me. I also really hate being the only single person out of my friends, and feeling like I stick out like a sore thumb at the few social gatherings that I attend.

My life finally feels good to me. I feel like I am at least somewhat in control of it. I feel like at this point in time, the kids and I are living in a drama-free bubble, and I like it. No, I love it. I am terrified of allowing someone else into our bubble, for fear that it may pop. But at the same time, I am afraid that if I continue to think like this, I may miss the chance to meet the man of my dreams (ok, even saying that makes me want to hurl, but it's true).

I am torn between just wanting to stay single for the rest of my life and wanting to be in a relationship. And really, it's not the relationship part that scares me the most - it's the dating that is necessary to get there. I've said it a million times, and I'll say it again: I suck at dating. Given my track record, as colorful as it is, I am afraid of meeting someone great and getting all goofy and happy about it, and then having it fall apart. Yes, I know, that's an inherent risk. But, damn, do I have to deal with that crap? And then there's the age-old question about when to introduce the hypothetical guy to the kids. And what guy in his right mind would even want to deal with a woman with 5 kids from 3 different fathers? I mean, really, my kids make me want to run away sometimes - how can I expect someone else to deal with them on a regular basis?

Previous men in my life have not been nice to me, to put it mildly. I have been called every name in the book. I have been embarrassed publicly by them, I have been insulted, I have been beaten down both physically and mentally, and I have been through hell. Not every man, mind you, but a large percentage of them have treated me like crap. Why would I want to put myself back into a position of vulnerability again?

Oh yeah, because one of these days, I'll find one that will treat me like I deserve to be treated. Or at least that's what people like to tell me.

Am I completely mental? OK, I know I am, but am I more mental than usual over this? Or is this normal? This is the longest that I have been single in *cough* probably 20 years *cough*. Is dating supposed to be this scary?

Seriously, I need input here.