Two Weeks

It's been almost two weeks since Dexy's daddy moved up to Seattle from Las Vegas. We're settling in nicely. At least I think we are. Mostly, I feel like Dexy and I have exhaled for the first time in months, if not years. And I'm definitely noticing a change in her with regard to having Daddy/Man Energy in the house, which IMO, is excellent. She needed this. And so did I.

Also cool... for the first time in over a year, Dexy is back in her own bed, in her own room, all night long, without anymore of the crying/screaming/hysteria. It took about a week of sleepless nights & sheer misery for ALL of us to get to this place, but her dad and I are committed and we're sticking to our guns, and we ain't giving in, no matter what.

We eat our meals together as a family, usually at the dinner table (whoa!). We take walks, attend kid birthday parties, shop, share preschool pick ups and drop offs, take turns reading the bedtime stories & getting her dressed/undressed/bathed. Stuff I've been doing solo for four + years (except when her dad was here for his monthly visit), and I'm just so stinkin' glad I don't have to do it alone anymore.

To have someone to share this stuff with, not to mention watch and experience all the milestones, growth, and the language/writing/thinking development, etc. that marks Dexy's latest journey from preschooler to Kindergartner (which will be next fall - GASP!), just rocks. 

Added bonus? If I need to run out the door to grab eggs at the Farmer's Market, or want to chit-chat with a neighbor, or go out for dinner/drinks with my gal pals, or take a walk, etc. I can! The freedom in that, in ALL of it, is tremendous.

I'm grateful. I'm blessed. And for the first time, in a long time, I'm happy.

Yay me!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test.

Changes - David Bowie

It's been five (5!) years this month since Dexy's daddy and I, you know, like, made her. Five years of ups and downs as a couple (five years of ups and downs as a woman for that matter). But *GASP!* at the end of this month, we'll not only be living in the same city/state for the first time ever, but in the same house.

Wow.

There are myriad reasons why this is a big damn deal. Some of which are... how will this pan out for a 43+ year old broad like me, who has never actually lived with a man (other than college roommates) and how will this pan out for our daughter? He's been married before. I've never even been proposed to. How do I share this home I've spent the last 2 years creating alone, in a city I really love, but that he's not necessarily 100% sold on? How will our work schedules mesh? How will we navigate co-parenting? How will we move in rhythm with each other, on a day-to-day basis, when we've gotten used to seeing each other for only 2-3 days once a month?

One of the biggest questions though is... how will I now define myself? 

Despite my being with J for most of these past five years, we've never actually lived in the same city/state, so I've always identified myself as a single mom. There are myriad reasons for that too, but I'm not going to discuss them here.

In any case, the reality of it was, for me, that I was doing the parenting thing by myself. I didn't have any help from family members (my parents were dead before Dexy was two) and very little help from friends. I've been solely responsible for her daily care; housing, school tuition, clothes, food, diapers, toys, books, bathing, soothing, entertainment, travel, love, discipline, etc.

By saying that, in no way do I mean to diminish J's role as a dad. He's been absolutely great with her. And they cuckoo crazy LOVE each other, which is awesome. The bigger issue here is me. I've not always been the best at letting him just be himself. I've often been judgmental, resentful, petty, a nag, and even a downright bitch. Why? Because I felt entitled to it. Because I felt like I was doing all the hard work, while he got to be the awesome, cool, lovable, visiting dad.

But all that's about to change. I don't get to be the long suffering single mom anymore. I get to be one half of a parenting partnership. And one half of a committed relationship. In the same state. Same town. Same house.

I'm scared to death. But I'm excited too. Because, what if this is going to actually turn out great? What if the OLD definition was only an illusion, and this NEW and EVOLVING definition is the truth? What if this will be an amazing next chapter in ALL our lives? What if this is just the beginning of a life I've always wanted? What if I have the choice, starting right now, to just be happy?

That wouldn't be so bad, right?

Nope. It sure wouldn't.

Quiet Please!

Dudes, sometimes I just want need it to be QUIET!

For me, one of the hardest things about being a single parent is how noisy it can be.

Now I know what y'all will say, that ALL kids are noisy and ALL parents want peace/quiet, so what does being a single parent have to do with anything? But you're just going to have to trust me on this one, it's totally worse for those of us doing this parenting thing solo. Or at least it is for this single mama.

Whenever I really need some down time, or I'm trying to have a phone conversation, work in my office, plan dinner, or ponder the 568 other Mom Stuff related items in my head, that's precisely the moment when my kid needs to be right on top of me.

Frankly, it's already pretty noisy in my head even without all the Mom Stuff. And sometimes I just need it to stop. And when it doesn't stop, my temper flares, and then my temperature rises, and then I get so angry I want to scream. And more often than not, I do end up screaming.

Which isn't right and it isn't fair, because let's face it, a four year old just doesn't get the concept of Mommy-Really-Needs-a-Break-Right-Now-Or-Else-She's-Gonna-Lose-What's-Left-of-Her-Freakin'-Mind. 

I know she just wants my attention - and she wants it now. I get that. The Good Mommy in me really wants to give it to her too, but that mommy is trapped inside my very loud and chaotic brain and that mommy's voice of reason can't possibly be heard above all that bloody racket, so then the Mean Mommy wins and the screaming party begins.

The obvious response of course is to walk away from the noisy situation before it escalates to the point of screaming, counting to three, consequences, threats, "time outs", crying, etc. (which hello? just creates more noise!), but 90% of the time I can't walk away because I'm here by myself (i.e. there's no one to hand her off to so I can go calm the eff down).

I have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. No way to get away from the questions or the requests for food, bathroom assistance, books, TV, toys, tea parties, boo-boo fixes and kisses, etc. No way to get away, if even only for a moment, from this sweet, beautiful and most perfect little creature who is following me all over the house.

And I know that sounds awful and harsh. It probably makes me a monster. But if I don't find a quiet place, and soon, my head might actually explode & fly off into outer space, never to be seen again.

I swear to gawd officer, that crazy woman's head just POPPED right off her neck and exploded into a zillion teeny pieces! Look, there's what's left of her in that bloody gurgling pool of ooze on the sidewalk. See? Ewwwwwww!

And then where would my kid be?

Orphaned. Duh.

So, please pass me the duct tape. It's quiet time.

Amid Life's Crises: One Of Our Own

Amid Life's Crises: One Of Our Own: "Thursday's HNT was an emotional one for me. One of our own, Boo (formerly Boo(duh)) - a fellow parent, blogger and HNT-er - a dear..."

The above post (click on link for more info) seriously made me gasp, and then it broke my heart. Even if you can only give a dollar, or send an email expressing your condolences, or say a prayer... will you? I can't even imagine. I just can't. A mother should NEVER have to experience something like this. Not ever. My prayers and thoughts are with Boo and her family.

Weekend Dread? You Effing Bet!

So Heather Armstrong (of Dooce.com) had a post the other day called Figuring it Out and she was asking if there is anyone out there that "dreads the weekends"... but since I'm not a member of her Community, I can't comment on her blog. So, I get to share my thoughts w/ you here instead.

The answer from me is an emphatic "YES! I DREAD WEEKENDS!"

Since becoming a mom anyway.

I know what those of you who are parents that have HELP (husbands, boyfriends, friends, aunts, uncles, siblings, grandparents, nannies, etc.) will say...

You'll say "Oh no Cher, I totally look forward to my weekends! For us, it's all about family, unwinding, and being together time. It's about not having to be at the office. And not having to be without my darling babies. Or .... [insert fluffy cloud thought here] "

And so of course, you'll probably judge me b/c I send my kid off to preschool so that I can work from home. Or b/c I relish my alone time. And my oh-so-quiet, oh-so-sparkling-clean house. Or my "nobody to take care of but me" blissdom.

Or maybe you won't. I don't want to assume you're all a bunch of judgmental ninnies like me.

I certainly judge myself. At least a little. Okay, a lot.

I feel like I should want to be w/ my kid non-stop. Because let's face it, they do grow up so fast right? And I should be so thankful that I haven't had to go to a 40+ hour a week job for "The Man" 5 days a week for over a year now. And how awesome is it that I get to take her to preschool, or snuggle w/ her, or make her meals, and play with her in the park, or w/ her tea set, etc. when her dad, who lives in another state doesn't get to do any of that stuff.

But here's the truth, I wish he was here to do some of this stuff. For that matter, I wish Dexy had family of any kind that were willing and able to do some of this stuff. Because to be honest w/ you, I'm sick to death of being the only one who gets up and does this day in and day out. With no help, other than the help I pay. And I pay dearly y'all. Daycare wasn't cheap. Preschool ain't cheap. Grade school, and all the after school programs I'm going to need when school is out for summer or holiday breaks, ain't gonna be cheap. Babysitters sure as h*ll ain't cheap. If I want to see a movie, or have a night out w/ friends, or just not be a mommy for a few blessed hours, I have to leave my house and pay someone. Period.

And I feel like the whole stinkin' world doesn't really "get" that. Which kinda sucks. Because it makes me feel even more alone & isolated & misunderstood.

And I'm sorry, that's where my being a Single Mother (w/o an ex-husband to leave my kids with every other weekend or a few nights a week, or a current husband to hand the kid off to once and awhile so I can take a shower or take a walk, etc., or family who are still alive and actually interested in being in Dexy's life in a meaningful and permanent way) is very, very different.

Yes, I know. I know. Some of you will say your hubbies don't actually do any of that sh*t either, so you feel just as alone as I do. And besides, I didn't have to do this alone. I could have aborted my child. Or adopted her out to some nice rich white couple who would have paid handsomely for my perfect white baby. Or moved to Las Vegas where her daddy lives.

But apparently, I'm selfish. I wanted to have the life of my dreams in Seattle AND a beautiful little girl AND a wonderful loving committed equitable give/take relationship w/ her daddy.

So yep, I'm kinda bitter. Often I'm downright pissed off. And when I think about having to do this single mommy thing w/o help (financially, spiritually, physically, emotionally) for the rest of my life? It fills me with so much dread that I want to shoot myself in both feet, or run away to Alaska to become one of Sarah Palin's disciples (just kidding!), or put Dexy on a plane to Russia (I kid, I kid).

Instead, I just pray for Mondays to come (and for the weekend to end) ... b/c that's when I'll get a little break. And that's when hopefully, by the time 5pm rolls around and I have to trek down my lovely tree-lined West Seattle street to pick my sweet little girl up from her preschool, I'm rejuvenated enough to enjoy my evening with her, to soak every bit of her up, and relish in her every little cuteness.

And she is really cute y'all. I get that. I do.

I'm not so ungrateful to spit in G-d's face for the blessing he's given me. Dexy saved my life in a million ways. She continues to do so. Whenever I find myself really missing my mom or my dad, or the family I wish I had, I need only look at my baby girl and see that I don't have it so bad. Not really.

So the question is, how do I rid myself of all this rage and all the feelings of utter discouragement when it washes over me like a ginormous Tsunami? How do I cope w/ the possibility that I will in fact have to do this alone for the duration? How do I find peace, love, joy, happiness... in the little things so I can get through the big things?

I really wanna know.

Big'un

Thinking of Maddie Today...

... and hugging my Dexy Girl extra tight.

Be careful, little eyes are watching...

And little ears are listening!

I saw this video spot on Mommy Pie and it literally made me cry. Feel free to share it with YOUR friends & family, readers, etc. too. Peace out.

Go Outside and Play - And don't come home 'til dinner!

Just read a great Ed Op piece in the LA Times from May 2008 regarding the Olden Days (pre-1980's)...

You know, the days when kids went outside to play and weren't being hovered over by adults every single waking moment?

Here are the links (Thx to @phatmommy for tweeting):

Remember Go Outside and Play?

AND

FreeRangeKids

Growing up in sunny Southern CA in the 1970's, we ran in age/grade related packs around the neighborhood. We climbed trees (see pic of my daughter in the same cork tree I climbed when I was a kid). We rode our bikes everywhere, without helmets! We skated & skateboarded, bounced on trampolines, played "Kick the Can" or Flag Football - barefoot. For hours!

In the summer, our mothers all but pushed out the front door & said, "Don't come home til dinner!" We'd take the city bus to Orange County beaches and be there ALL day, without sunscreen. When we went on our marathon family road trips, we all piled in the backseat of giant American-made family cars, sans car seats or seat belts (gasp!). We swam, ran, collected tadpoles from the gutters, played in the rain, climbed on the Jungle Gyms, rarely watched television, took piano lessons, played soccer, danced, made "forts" from boxes & blankets, etc. all without constant direction or scrutiny from our parents.

There were also no rigid schedules to adhere to each day. No insane academic pressures with mounds of books & homework each night (at least not in elementary school). We were disciplined when we acted inappropriately, and not just by our parents. Our neighbors had "permission" to scold us too & would march us straight home to mom by the scruff of our necks when we did something that wasn't socially acceptable.

Don't get me wrong. I'm quite sure my mother "worried" about us (it's what mothers DO). It just wasn't the same kind of worry you see parents consumed with today... about pedophiles and car accidents, severe injuries from falling out of a tree, or stepping on a nail. About whether or not their kids will get into the "best" preschools, let alone the "best" colleges. Or worse, worrying about what other people will think if you actually dare to say "NO!" to your own child. And btw, I'm often guilty of this too, so I'm not pointing any fingers here!

It was just nice to be reminded that maybe, just maybe, it's really okay to let our kids be kids.

At the very least, they ought to go outside and play!

What do YOU remember about being a kid? How do you "let go" when it comes to your own kids going outside to play?

Mommy Struggles

I started a blog over the weekend about how I have a toddler who has decided in the last 2 months or so to have sleep "issues", but she was refusing to nap & so I put it in my drafts folder with plans to complete it on Monday when she went back to school. But it's been one of those weeks & I just sort of forgot about it.

Until now.

This morning I was reading one of the many wonderful blogs I've gotten hooked into through the twitterverse (Apathy Lounge) - and her latest entry just really hit me hard about how FAST it all goes, this childhood thing. I decided I should write about that (while I'm baking cookies - HA), but instead I found this draft about my Mommy Struggles. So decided to finish it first instead. Goodness, I'm all over the map sometimes!

This past Monday night I decided not to give in to the Master Toddler Pleas & would let her "cry it out" (even though it is completely contrary to the whole Attachment Parenting philosophy), b/c I was going to have my bed back to myself again no matter what.

She cried and screamed, barfed, and cried some more. I sat in my room listening to her on the monitor with my heart breaking. I went in every 5-10 minutes to reassure her that all was okay, that mommy loved her & that I'd see her in the morning, but she needed to sleep in HER bed tonight. Ultimately, after going back & forth from her room to mine for over an hour, she still wasn't settling down so I made the painful decision to NOT go until she was asleep. It took another 20 minutes of hysteria & angry baby screaming, but FINALLY she fell asleep.

Of course, I didn't sleep a wink that night as I busy feeling like the most awful mom in the entire universe.

Tuesday night, I make decision to follow through with my brilliant plan to get this kid back into her own bed. Please note that Dexy has ALWAYS slept in her own bed since she outgrew her bassinet at approx 2 months of age. She has ALWAYS slept through the night too, with very few exceptions (until her recent night terrors - but that's another story for another day). The only time I've ever been of a mind to bring her into my bed is if she's a) sick, b) scared, c) we're snuggling &/or reading a book, or d) we are traveling.

See?











(note: gotta love her sleep positions, right?)

Back to Tuesday. I had plans w/ my BFF for dinner in Seal Beach at Walt's Wharf. First night out sans child in AGES. I'm way stoked but unsure of how she'll behave. Babysitter arrives at 6pm, child pitches a HUGE fit about being left with babysitter. I finally just decide to leave after 20 minutes of vainly trying to validate her hysteria, er, I mean her feelings. As I walk down drive to my car, I can hear her screaming "no, no, no" from inside the house... Of course, 2 seconds after I leave, the baby sitter calls to say she is totally fine & they are already singing, playing, having a ball.

Oh brother.

I have a marginally enjoyable dinner & arrive home at 8:30pm. Baby still awake, but I anticipated that. I paid the babysitter, get Dex situated in my lap for some book time and by 9pm with only about 5 minutes of protest on her part, she's sound asleep in HER bed. She slept through the night, until 8am as a matter of fact. I start to think perhaps we're on the road to success, either that or she's going into a growth spurt.

Wednesday night... we stopped to visit my dad on the way home, like we do every few days. Got home, had dinner, took our evening walk around the block, played, read, sang, and at 8pm I took her into her room for book time & ni-ni. She protested for about 5 minutes, then was out like a light. Never heard a peep out of her til this morning at 8:30!

So. Okay. I know it's only been three nights. But I cannot tell you how grateful I am that she's been back in her own bed, even if we have some setbacks in the future, b/c I get some much needed sleep & as a result of that, she gets a much more CALM & LOVING mom. And regardless then of how we got there, isn't that really what "attachment parenting" is all about?

From where I'm sitting, some battles must be fought so that I can be a better mom. For me, that means being rested, it means not feeling hopeless or frustrated, it also means not feeling resentful of her (or her dad) when it isn't even her(his) fault in the first place.

I have to tell ya gang, so far? This has been a good week.

Yay me!

Single Mom does not = Super Mom

First let me just say that I'm grateful to those who think I'm brave, or strong, or somehow Super Human for raising my child alone (friends, family &/or readers of this dorky little blog) ...

Let me set the record straight right now. I WISH that I had even 1/2 the confidence in myself (or in my ability to parent this sweet little girl) that y'all seem to have in me.

Yeah, I'm probably going to piss some of you off, but here's what I think: Motherhood is a hard ass gig!

And don't let Gloria Steinem or any of the other Wannabe Feminist idiots of the current day tell you any different.

Children NEED fathers in their lives just as much as they need their moms. And I believe that we (women) have done a great disservice to tens of thousands of children over the past 30+ years by swallowing the Great Lie that they don't.

We continue to raise so many of our boys to be irresponsible men; men who think NOTHING of walking away from their kids, not paying child support, not showing up for (or demanding) visitation, and/or knocking up women like it's some kind of game (or donating their sperm to local Fertility Clinics for quickie cash with no regard for all the kids out there who want to know where they came from). Worse, then we talk smack about their fathers & in the same breath deny them the right to see their kids b/c we're pissed off they don't love us anymore.

We raise our girls to think this is all they're worth & then try to soothe them after they end up raising their kids alone by telling them they "can do it without a man to help them", to "be independent, be strong", or "sweetie, you don't really need a Daddy for those kids."

And the cycle repeats, over and over.

I was one of the "lucky" ones in that I was raised in a two-parent home, but I also had a very emotionally distant (unavailable) alcoholic dad & a mom that was, in hindsight, pretty pissed off a lot of the time. If I'd been stuck at home w/ my brother & I all day, with Grumpy Asshole for a hubby, I'd have been pissed too. That wasn't what she signed up for on her wedding day, I'm sure.

So, I grew up in this weird kind of chaos. A mom who loved & adored her kids, but who resented the hell out of her husband. I was constantly seeking the approval of a dad who was(is) completely incapable of giving any (& I've spent most of my adult life doing the same w/ the men I've dated).

What kind of parents did my dad have that this is the end result of his life as a Man and as a Father? What kind of parents raised my daughters daddy that he is so disconnected from his part in creating his three daughters? What about the men who have left my other mom friends holding the parenting bag all by themselves (married or single)?

Is this REALLY the kind of community, society, country, WORLD... that we want? Angry moms, absent dads? And yes, I do know there are daddy's out there who are doing the deal & that it's the moms who bailed, but let's be honest, what is the ratio of that equation?!

G-d, I'm such a jackass to have ever thought I could do this by myself.

Here's the deal. I'm 41 & I am utterly "alone" in raising this precious little girl. It f**king sucks okay? Not b/c I don't have the comfort of a man in my bed, but b/c I feel I am missing out on the SHARED experience of raising her WITH someone. Certainly that means her daddy, but it also means her grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, etc.

If I'd had ANY idea that this was the legacy I was possibly going to leave her, I'd never ever considered doing the Single Mommy thing. Not even for a nano-second.

Do I regret my daughter? Oh hell no! She's the best thing that ever happened to me. On more than one occasion, she's actually saved my life. It's because of her that I even bother to stick around.

But man, I do wish people would stop telling me how brave I am & offer to hang out with us once and awhile instead. Please know, I'm not trying to sound ungrateful for your kind words of seeming encouragement, at least I think you mean it as such. But I also think it's gonna take a serious village for me to raise this kid & manage to maintain my sanity 80% intact by the time she's grown.

There are days when I really do not think I can possibly do this Mom thing another minute. I cry, a lot. I want to give up, often. I've thought about Open Adoption. I've thought about inventing a time machine so I can un-do joining MySpace. I've considered giving her to my sister who never intended to have just one, or my lesbian friends who desire children so badly.

All these feelings scare the holy crap out of me.

Do I think married women/mothers feel these things too? They tell me they do. But at the end of the day (IMO) they at least still have someone to hand the kid(s) off to when they need a minute to quell the rage that is seething inside, or for something less ominous & dark like a 10 minute shower.

I've been so terrified that I'm becoming one of "those" parents. You know, the ones that scream, yell, cajole, cry, manipulate, bargain, or worst of all, HIT their kids when the frustration levels get too high.

Listen gang, I should know better right? I have the BA degree. My parents were educated. My friends are educated. I'm all White Collar, No Nonsense, Strong Work Ethic Gal. I'm a "late in life" mom & therefore I'm supposed to be more settled, more patient & more "with it" than the 16 year olds who think it's cute to have a baby before they're out of high school, right? I've read all the parenting books & magazines. I've talked to her pediatrician & daycare provider. I've been to therapy & anger management, so I know all the psycho-babble buzzwords. I practice the 12-steps. I have a G-d in my life. I'm not a victim. I know to call my Mom friends, or to simply step away before things escalate.

I should know better, but honestly I don't know jack shit.

I've digressed, as usual. I'm having a hard day; it's not the first & I'm sure it won't be the last.

Bottom line is that I want someone to put their arms around me, tell me it's gonna be okay, and then I want THEM to handle it, just for now. Tomorrow... I promise I'll go back to being Super Mom tomorrow.

11 Months...

Dex is 11 months old today. One more month and she'll no longer be a "baby", she'll be a toddler. She crawls, sits, pulls herself up to a standing position, has seven dang teeth (I have the bite mark to prove it), laughs at everything from the dog to her daddy, eats her solids like a champ, points, waves, babbles constantly in a secret language I've yet to decipher, etc.

I had to buy her a new car seat over the weekend b/c she is 21 pounds, 11 oz. and over 30" long. Her infant seat only fits infants to 31" and it is getting to snug now. She's big enough to be "forward facing" actually. Won't do that for a while yet, she's safer the other way. The Britax car seat I got will take her to 65 pounds. Good seat. Expensive seat. Holy cow, raising a kid costs a small fortune.

I digress.

Where the hell did the past 11 months go? Too fast, too fast. 'Course, she'll always be my baby. I so look forward to seeing her little face each morning when I wake her up & in the evenings when I pick her up from daycare after a long day at work... these are the kinds of little things that are the highlight of my days now. Who knew being a mom could be so hard, and so wonderful all at the same time?

So... Happy Birthday little girl o'mine. I am already in wonder of what kinds of things you will learn to do between now & June 15th, or for that matter between now and age 40 (like me). Or all the crazy things you will most certainly do to make me laugh. Indeed, we're just getting started...