Monday, May 27, 2019

It Takes a Village or "Alone" Time


This is month I’ve had my first weekends without my babies in, well, 14 years? There have been a few work trips here and there and less than a handful of kid-free vacations. But these are my first weekends alone. Totally alone. And as the first weekend drew to a close, I realized that I had kept myself so busy I didn’t have a chance to dwell on the silence. I moved things around the house, expanded into newly open spaces, got groceries, mowed, figured out the internet, nursed a stomachache, decorated my bedroom, did tons of laundry, read and binged on Netflix. As I was driving to the gym, I thought to myself, “I can do this alone thing. I can handle single parenting.” And immediately I realized how wrong I was. I mean, yes, I’m a competent person and while it is exhausting, I can nail single parenting. I know this in my bones; I can do hard things. But what was wrong is that I have not been alone at all, even when I’m the only one in my house.

You see, one of the best things about this year has been how I’ve had to learn to ask for and accept help. I’ve had to say yes when I normally would have declined offers. This is so hard for me. I’ve always felt that to ask for help was a sign of weakness. I should be completely self-sufficient and not have to ever ask for help. Help is for the weak and I am not weak.

Oh how misguided. This year I’ve reached out and my tribe has formed around me. My parents show up with money and casseroles. My brothers text and call to give me moral support. Packages show up in the mail, like my new swear book and Zen as Fuck journal. I’ve gotten gift cards and handwritten notes from friends who are just thinking of me. I’ve gotten texts from friends checking in with encouragement and hugs everywhere - even from my friends where we have a no-hug pact. I take each of those hugs now willingly. And no matter how boring I am, my best friend answers my call every time I call her. And I call her a lot.

Even complete strangers, like Duncan at Century Link, have been more kind than they need to be. And as I am needing more help than ever, I find these gestures nothing less than beautiful. Maybe I’m just feeling a little fragile as I fight to be strong, but the smiles and kind words bring tears to my eyes. We worry about the cruelty in the world, and trust me, it is there, but so is immense humanity.

A perfect example of this was my first “alone” weekend. I got off work and went to the gym, knowing my babies were going to head to their dad’s. I wanted to keep busy. After the gym, I decided to hook up my new modem, which of course required a phone call to Century Link. Connie from Century Link and I had a great conversation. Once I got that done, I had some gas left in the tank, and being by myself, decided to mow my yard for the first time ever. One blister later, I had just finished up. It wasn’t pretty but it was done. And I checked my phone. There was a text from my neighbor, inviting me down the street for cocktails. It could not have come at a better time. And while I’m normally more on the shy side, I said yes. On my first Friday night alone, I wasn’t at all – I was smiling and laughing with a group of great people.

Just these past few weeks, my parents bought me a much-needed weed eater, a cordless drill and committed to making me a casserole weekly for three months (if you are reading this Mom and Dad, I have this in writing.) My friend invited me to a much-needed girls’ night. I’ve gotten texts congratulating me on mowing* for the first time and giving me pep talks. I put out an SOS to the neighborhood about how I don’t know how to work a mower and seriously, someone was at my house in 2 minutes to show me how.  Another neighbor came down and changed out my outdoor lights for me because it is not Christmas time anymore and the red and green lights have to go. My good girlfriend sent me one of the funniest videos ever about Maycember that had me giggling in the kitchen. I have been so blessed and surrounded by love when one would think that would be the opposite of how I feel right now.  

So single parenting for me isn’t really single after all. In fact, I feel like I have more support now than I did when I was married. Maybe I was putting all of my eggs into one basket – who knew that basket had a hole in it. But what I really think is that now I am more open to accepting help and friendship and everyone has responded in kind. I can’t think of a better lesson. I am in an amazing place right now. It isn’t easy; in fact, it can be downright hard. These past few weeks have been great – full of smiles but also full of all out sobbing. But what I know for sure is that I am not alone at all. They say it takes a village to raise a child but I think it actually just takes a village period. 


*So much about mowing. But this is something I’ve never had to really do before and it gave me a lot of anxiety. And frankly, if your lawn is mowed, it looks like you have your shit together…at least on the outside from the street-view.  

Saturday, May 11, 2019

A Mother’s Day Letter to my Moose and Squirrel or What I Don't Tell You


Dear Moose and Squirrel,

Here we are at another Mother’s Day. This one came sputtering down the road, coughing smoke, with a flat tire, covered in rust. It has been a bumpy year to say the least. And you may be looking back on this year and thinking to yourself, as a Mom, I’m going to give her a C-. This certainly hasn’t been her best year – she really hasn’t wowed us much and she seems a bit touchy. Oh my loves. It has actually been a pretty spectacular year. You see, I’ve spent most of this year working harder than ever to just maintain status quo for you. If I have done my job well, you will think that this year hasn’t been amazing, but in the background, it has been my swan song. And as much as I want you to feel like life is normal as we transition from a family of four to a family of three, this backfires on me when I need just a little gratitude, or at least for you not to complain to me all the time about how you don’t have a brand new four wheeler or when you fight with each other over who has to walk the dog.

As soon as I knew you were speck in my belly, I have been protecting you. I ate all the right things, I gave up all the bad things. I rearranged my work schedule for you and used all my vacation to attend your school events, no school days and to drive you to camps. Do I sometimes point out the sacrifice I made of giving up coffee for two years for each of you while I was pregnant and nursed you? Yes. But there are so many things I have done to protect you that I will never tell you about.

You see, you are still living in your house, in your neighborhood, in your school district, because I knew that was important to you. You see nothing different other than your father doesn’t live with us anymore and you feel bad for him. You don’t see me, scrambling on the other side to give you that sense of normalcy. You don’t see the tears I’ve cried, while moments before I reassured you this will be a happy home again, built on trust, honesty, love and laughter. You don’t see how scared I am because I’m afraid it will make you worry. You don’t see how I’m double checking my new budget after you go to bed to make sure I can keep you in swimming, because I know that swimming is good exercise for you, even though you “hate it,” and it is “child abuse” except that you love swimming and laugh during practice. You don’t see how hard it is for me emotionally to give one of you difficult answers to your hard questions and give the other one of you innocence while you take your anger and sadness out on me. And in the midst of this, I am still excitedly sitting down to go over all of the new changes in the new season of Fort Nite with you and ordering you the new Marshmello helmet you want. Because Moms know that the show must go on and the ringmaster sets the tone. And by golly, the tone in this house will be one of healing our hurt and moving forward into the light.

If I’m doing my job right, you only see that for you, a large part of your life hasn’t changed. You come home to a house full of food, toilet paper, and the normal chaos. You come home to homework, rules and lots of “no” answers, which you hate no matter how good for you it is. You don’t see the fear, work, struggles and sacrifices I am making for you to not notice a difference. And maybe one day I will tell you. But for right now, all I’m asking for this Mother’s Day is a little grace. It’s been a tough year of protecting you and while you may not notice anything herculean, I have never worked harder for you to think I’m doing nothing special.

Love forever and always,

Mom

P.S. If I could ask for just one more thing, it would be really great if you could remove your wet dirty clothes from your sports back packs when you get home. Unlike a piece of chicken, wet towels and sweaty socks do not improve when they marinate. Thanks!

P.P.S. One last thing! If you could also please eat more fruit and vegetables. I think you know why.