Category Archives: Motherhood
A taste of ’empty nest’
My bird is spreading his wings.
I find myself alone on a school night while he enjoys an evening with a friend. I’ve been catching glimpses lately of ‘life sans bird’.
I’ve wished sometimes I could go back in time and speak to the younger me, warn of pitfalls, give sage advice and offer tips for succeeding in ‘life’. But I wouldn’t have listened to me – who am I kidding, and really, who would I be if I hadn’t made my mistakes?
It’s with this knowledge that I know I can’t save my son from making his own mistakes. And would it really be ‘saving’ – after all, we only grow from experience.
He’s going to get his heart broken. He’s going to break a heart. He’ll find himself in precarious situations and he’ll know disappointment and loss.
My hope is that I have made an impression on him. That he’s seen through example that gratitude, hard work and faith can make life so beautiful. My hope is that adversity will not stop him from flying and that he ends up soaring.
Every day I tell him “I love you” and every day we laugh. I apologize when I’m wrong or when I’m sour.
I’m so excited to watch him become the man he’s meant to be! It’s like reading a book that you love from the very first page. Not wanting to put it down – savoring every word and every chapter!! The best part though, God willing, is unlike a book – I’ll see my favorite character continue to grow and be a part of his story.
I can’t describe with adequate words how very much I love my bird. From the moment I heard “It’s a son!” My first word to him “Hi” (lol) I’ve been in love. I watch him with wonderment.
Whoever he decides to be, whatever path he decides to take – I’m truly blessed to have had the privilege of even knowing him.
I am my favorite person in the whole world’s mother. What a gift!
I’ll be OK when the nest is empty – because I’m not lonely alone. I like myself. I hope that example most of all has made an impression on him. I think it has. Pretty sure I’ve raised a young man who is comfortable in his own skin.
Blessed.
“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.
*Mini-rant*
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.
*mini-rant over*
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! ^_^
“Crash into me…”
It’s funny how my title for this post was unintentionally inspired by my son, and here’s why. The other night I dreamed of Dave Matthews (My long time celebrity crush). I was explaining the root of my mood swing today and originally my title was going to be ‘Tsunami’ and the words just flowed out of his mouth. Perfect.
I have an issue with confrontation (I’ve mentioned this before). A serious physical adverse reaction to straight up yelling. My feet go cold, my stomach knots and I’m in the fetal position in my head. A therapist diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder years ago. No shite – I knew that.
This bleeds over into other areas of my life in lesser degrees. I tend to tamp down any slight upset thoughts. I hold them in. I hold them and try to cheerfully go about my day hoping they’ll go away. If I’m upset with someone, I don’t tell them. I keep to myself. Problems at work? I soldier on – staying grateful for the fact that I HAVE a job. Problems at home? I soldier on – staying grateful that we HAVE a house that has dirty dishes that, don’t you know, he should have KNOWN to do. Are you seeing the pattern here?
The problem is – much like a tsunami … what starts as a quake or a shift slowly starts building. Gaining energy, gaining momentum. Faster … stronger … larger until – CRASH! (While typing, the metaphor is also reminding me of an orgasm. But I assure you, there is nothing pleasurable about the finale).
I work during the week, come home and continue to work, and before I know it, it’s time for bed. Saturdays are errand days – groceries and housework. I work Sunday mornings for extra money cleaning two business offices. I go to the laundromat on Sunday’s too. I point this out not because I want sympathy, we do what we have to do, but to paint a picture in order to understand that I’m pretty exhausted most of the time.
I also have a heart condition. I feel like I’m in my 60’s or 70’s when filling my am/pm Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday pill reminder box.
So suffice it to say, the downtime I’m not getting – I need.
And I stay grateful. I tell myself, ‘at least I can afford my medicine!’ when I’m tired, ‘at least I’m tired and ALIVE’.
But I am human.
And I am tired.
Today I was feeling a little unappreciated whilst shopping with my son. I’ve been needing some dental work. After two courses of antibiotics and attempting to save the money for the oral surgeon I’ve been referred to, I am still in pain and unable to go. This is my fault. I have had friends offer to loan me the money, but I have a REALLY hard time accepting any sort of monetary help. Too proud? Maybe. I just hate that feeling of owing someone.
So I’m already upset that I’m spending a third of the money that could have gone toward the procedure on dress slacks, dress shirt and dress shoes for Homecoming. But, that’s what moms do! Still, I hoped for an unprompted ‘thank you’ (which, i did later get – after the tsunami).
I started this blog with the intention of NEVER editing myself. And I find myself having a hard time getting to the true source of my ‘Crash’ today.
If you’re a Harry Potter fan you’ll be able to relate when I compare the source of my tsunami to a ‘dementor’. Capable of sucking the life and the joy out of me. Depression incarnate.
That backbone I’m trying to grow? I really need it. No more tsunami’s – I have to learn to have a voice without fear of retribution. I have to learn how to enforce my boundary borders. I know a few waves will find themselves hitting my shores, but that’s OK – wiping out my entire emotional village is not, and that really comes down to me doesn’t it? Not the ‘dementor’ … but me. I have to stop expecting rational behavior from irrational people.
I’ll let Dave sum this up:
“Oh now it’s here I build my soul
I swear, friend, don’t you know
I’m bare boned and crazy for you”
“Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey!”
There’s nothing more contagious than a good mood. I remember I LOVED being the last one to wake up when I was young! On those rare occasions, I could hear chatter in the house, smell food cooking and the sun was streaming across my bed for me to stretch out in. Bonus if the people in the house were laughing, man, that made my day!
I try to remember that. The mornings my son comes out of his room and I am in a good mood, perhaps singing in the kitchen or laughing at something the dog has done, have an immediate affect on him. His morning mood (and we’re really not morning people) visibly changes for the better. I can literally help him have a great day by sending him out of the door with a smile on his face. Amazing what an authentic smile can pass on juxtaposed to a grumpy disposition.
I decide to be happy. Most of the time.
Same rule applies at work. I smile, I laugh, I retain a calm attitude and it rubs off on those around me. We have SUCH power to make the atmosphere around us positive! It’s a beautiful thing.
Not feeling it? Remember, it’s contagious – so even if you fake that first happy domino the people you’ve passed it on to will send it back your way. 🙂
Puppy kicking – Homework & Homecoming
It floors me that in this day and age of online school sites available to parents that my son still doesn’t turn work in. I check! I do! And so, I checked.
It is with great irony that I find my son, currently on quite an all consuming quest to get a girlfriend has a D in ‘Anatomy’.
The assignments with the word “Missing” next to them has doubled since the last time I spoke to him about this same issue. OK, benefit of the doubt, I email the teacher (I do this! I’m not an armchair parent, I’m a ‘first-name-basis’ ‘call-email-smoke signal-me’ parent). Yup, the assignments are actually MIA and not in a pile waiting to be graded.
I’m at work. I’m having a conversation with my son in my head, with some great come backs for all his excuses all lined up.
When we finally speak I let him have it.
Now – while at the laundromat this past weekend, I thumbed through an abandoned ‘O’ magazine which (and I’m paraphrasing, because while I really wanted to tear out the article and bring it home, I’m quite timid when it comes to stealing or vandalism) explained various types of mood muggers – A puppy kicker was someone I believe who had issues of their own and will have an outburst akin to kicking a puppy (how horrible). An unsuspecting victim laid out by cruel words. Maybe ‘victim’ is an exaggeration here because let’s face it, he deserved a talking to. Anyway – we clarify it’s unacceptable.
This is a bright young man who is capable and has a history of deciding not to participate. I’m feeling like a puppy kicker after finding out he asked a girl to Homecoming, which he was dying to tell me, and three phone calls later finally got to.
By the way, I HATE confrontation. It’s terrible. Literally, I have a physical reaction when someone raises their voice in anger around me. I curl into an emotional ball and cover my emotional ears and want to run. In addition to not liking confrontation, I also adore my son. I especially don’t like it when he and I have a disagreement. But it’s necessary no?
Inside I’m throwing confetti and releasing balloons and sing-songing “My son is going to Homecoming! She said YES!” outside I’m laying down the law, which I know isn’t reaching even the smallest part of his ear, let alone the part of the brain that cares to retain the information. “You HAVE to pass science blah blah blah – you need to keep your grades up for insurance purposes blah blah blah – you HAVE to care! blah blah blah”.
Does he? Does he have to care? That comes from my own fears for him. Really he doesn’t have to care. But he does have to pass.
The problem is, I am way too lenient. Mostly because of the confrontation thing – but when I know what a checkered past I have, I’m constantly feeling like a hypocrite expecting others to behave in a way I sure didn’t.
That’s tough. I don’t feel like I have the right to discipline because I was bad. I don’t feel like I have the right to expect his best when I didn’t give it. Not in school for sure. So finding that balance between the guilt, my fears and what I know I should be doing as a parent is what I’ve been trying to work on.
I came home to him working on those missing assignments. Good thing too, because how in the world does a mother tell their son they can’t go to their Senior Homecoming? I don’t have that backbone. I’m trying to grow one – for his best interest. But I do not currently have one.
Wondering if they sell blue corsages – it might match her blue hair streaks.
Debauchery Soup 