“So how come I’m smart?” Wait … what?!
Obviously a large part of my blog – and giant chunk of my life is the fact that I’m a single mom.
Just because you have children and got a divorce does not make you a ‘single parent’. Yes, it makes your marital status ‘single’, but you’re not raising your children alone.
That’s one of my pet peeves – someone trying to relate with ‘yeah! I’m a single mom too!’
No you’re not, your children have a father in their lives, who they spend time with and who contributes both financially and emotionally to their upbringing! You have someone to talk to, bounce things off of and who takes some of the load off of your shoulders.
But I digress.
My sons ‘donor’ was a rave DJ who I was quite taken with. His nick name was Odie. We met in a club he had James Dean hair, misfits leather jacket and beautiful blue eyes. 3 months later we broke up and I informed him I was pregnant.
Have to give him credit for his honesty – he did not want to be a father. And, (I quote) if you ever try for child support, I’ll quit my job and move in with my parents.
Well – at least I knew where I stood. And in 17 years, I have never ‘tried for child support’. In my opinion, anyone who does not want to be a part of my funny, kind, smart, beautiful sons life, doesn’t deserve to be. And I do not want their money.
I spat out the bitter pill rather than swallow it and when my son was born, and with a proud and sunny disposition I let his paternal grandparents know they had a grandson. There’s a lot to be said for genes – because after one meeting, apparently they did not want to be his grandparents either.
That’s fine. The way I see it, it’s sad really because they have truly missed out. I look at my son as the best gift I have ever received and so I have gratitude for their existence at least. OK, at best.
I’ve tried never to have a bad word to say about his dad. I didn’t want him thinking that a part of him was ‘bad’.
Lately, I’ve been seeing his dad in him. He has those beautiful blue eyes and some of his idiosyncrasies mirror his bio’s. Like sticking out his tongue when he’s really concentrating. It’s interesting – as they’ve only met once, almost 9 years ago.
But I digress. Today as we were laughing and chatting (he was doing a spot on imitation of Consuela, the maid from Family Guy) I said ‘we SO get us’. Our brand of humor is kind of out there and he makes me laugh ALL the time. He responded with, “well, I do have your genes – of course we ‘get’ us”.
I mentioned that lately he’s been looking a lot like Odie. I told him that was a good thing though – as he was a good-looking man. I then had to explain why he was named after Garfield’s canine friend. He wasn’t the shiniest marble in the marble bag. We went on to compare things in common with each other – our hands, our humor – but I was realizing he really doesn’t look so much like me. (Ask anyone else and they’ll say he does – but they haven’t met his other set of genes).
My son was stuck on the marble thing – and comes out with, “So why am I smart?” It took a second … sunk in … and with mock horror I gave him ‘the look’. I saw what he did there.
Who knows where he got his brain from. Perhaps it was me – and I just muddled it up with past debauchery.
I wonder about that sometimes … how smart could I be if I had NEVER taken a single drug or sip of alcohol? My poor brain cells!
I am smart enough to know how blessed I am to be the mother of an amazing young man.
Someone recently told me I was ‘sacrificing’ my life for my son. “After all, he’s 17!” This came from someone with no children, wanting more of me – more of my time. He didn’t get it. Didn’t get the time and didn’t get that it’s not a sacrifice.
I chose to be a mother and have loved every minute.
From ‘accidentally’ bumping his crib “OH! Are you awake … let me hold you” as a baby to our private jokes and ‘grown up’ discussions now he’s a young man.
If he decides he would like to know his dad in the future – I’ll understand. Hopefully I won’t hunt around for the bitter pill I spat out in order to swallow it. I don’t want to be bitter.
I did have an idea – and I pray I grow up a little more and NOT do it. But in my fantasies, I post a photo of my son graduating High School on his paternal grandmothers wall. With the following caption “Raised, graduated – oh, and he’s 18 now, tell Odie he can stop hiding. And by the way, you’re welcome”.
That would be petty … but oh it would feel so good! ^_^