Monthly Archives: May 2012

room for two

It’s been rather vexing lately to wake and find company in my bed:  namely, a ten-year-old and her stuffed friend. I was complaining about this trend to my former boyfriend recently, who remarked, “You should enjoy this while you can — it’s not going to last forever.”

True enough. I shall quit my bitching.

And then said he followed up with, “Do you even see yourself ever allowing a man to share your bed?”

I was shocked.

In a word:  YES! Good lord, of course I hope to share my bed with some fabulous man — and sooner rather than later. (He should know:  many nights I’d shared it with him.)

But it’s not just all about sharing a bed, is it? There’s much more to this love and compatibility and companionship business…which is why I intend to take my time to find the one I’m going to want in my bed for the next half a century or so. Which is longer than I’ve been alive so far and the last guy made twelve years seem like a mighty long time, so it’s a lot to contemplate. (Well, to be fair, only the last few years seemed like the misery would never end.)

At any rate, there is room in my bed for two…and preferably, for someone other than my ten-year-old to poke me in the ribs and tell me to roll over so that I stop snoring. Yes, I welcome it!

 


the c word

Today’s post is inspired by both personal experience and…I’m almost ashamed to admit it:  a guilty pleasure, The Bachelorette. On this evening’s episode, one young man bravely proffered his opinion that going into a relationship with a woman who had a child was a “compromise” — one he was willing to make, but a compromise nonetheless.

Big mistake…a mistake on the order of a guy saying he’s “babysitting”  his own children (in which case he means parenting).

I’ve actually heard this before and been taken aback, and I was offended for Emily before she responded as such herself… Certainly relationships are full of compromises. Certainly people who have children make many compromises. But in trying to win the heart of a parent, describing going into a relationship with them as “making a compromise” because they have a child or children is a sure loser.

Here’s why:  every good parent knows that our children give us so much more in the way of life lessons, tenderness, blessings and love, and that these things far outweigh the laundry list of obligations, compromises and costs of raising children. No amount of dirty diapers, spit-up stained clothing, expense, nights at (sometimes terrible) school concerts versus rock concerts, nights in versus nights out, cleaning up vomit, using vacation days to care for a sick child and more can ever compare to the joy, love, warmth, pride and purpose of nurturing these young people to pursue their own passions and grow into their potential.

In other words, if you’re thinking of getting serious with a single parent, you’ll do yourself and your relationship a favor by considering it an absolute honor to take on the role of step-parent to another’s child(ren). And, at least as importantly, you should feel honored that another human being holds you in high enough esteem to think you might make a good step-parent to his or her child(ren).


online again

So…I went back to online dating. Back, that is, to the freebie, noncommittal site where I’m suspicious about whether I’m wasting my time. The online approach is a needle-in-a-haystack gambit anyway, but I met a few interesting folks last time around, so why not give it a shot?

At least that’s what I was thinking when I clicked “reinstate”…and, despite the fact that several men have contacted me and I have contacted, um, none, I can barely gear up to reply. I’m just not that interested…(or is it that I’m completely self-absorbed?).

Perhaps I’ll give it a couple more weeks of dabbling…yet I’m inclined to think that my life is good:  my cup is always overflowing, I’m having a wonderful time with my children and my own interests, and I’m grateful for what I’ve got going on right now as a single, fabulous mama!

 


wasband fail

I’ve had the kind of morning (on my day off, no less) where the heavens have opened once again illuminating the brightly shining truth that my ex is an even bigger jackass than I thought. I need to vent, and I’m not sure who to turn to but my community here. Thank you in advance.

Eleven years ago, for Mother’s Day, he bought me a motorcycle — a beautiful, used classic bike. Now, I’m no tattoed, leather-wearing woman and I certainly have nothing against those who roll that way…but I was an expectant mother at the time, five months pregnant with our first. I had grown up with minibikes and motorcycles and have a fondness for putting around local streets and the idea of running errands with them — neither speeding down freeways or taking long road trips to Sturgis or other places.

Wasband wouldn’t let me ride the motorcycle because of my pregnancy and because it needed some work. He also failed to bring a title home with him — the seller was going to send it once he found it.

Various times during our marriage, I attempted to get him to have it fixed up — it was always too expensive or something (keep in mind I was the sole earner so, while we had little, I was inclined to think I should get some say in what “too expensive” was).

Finally, I am in a place where I have some free time to ride (every other weekend) and a cash flow that will support something a little beyond the bare necessities, so I’m raring to get this bike fixed, registered, my license, etc. I had planned to go down to the government center and begin the process of forcing the title. But, first, why not call?, I thought.

Then the voice over the phone gave me some very, very bad news. The registration shows up in “the system” from many years ago, so they can’t begin with “no proof of ownership.” Thus, my only hope is to track down the complete stranger from whom my ex bought the bike in order to have the title transferred. Apparently a decade is not enough to force such actions.

The voice ended the call with a cheery “okay?” to which I could only reply, “No, this is not okay.” It’s not okay to receive a gift that is little more than a heap of useless metal taking up space in my garage. I’m sure I could come up with yet another way to make this tale a metaphor for our entire relationship, but…

The day is sunny and I’m in no mood to give up — I’m going to get cute, run down to the government center and see who I can sweet talk in to some leads and options. Wish me luck!


car trouble

I was driving down the freeway on the way home from work, admiring all the sexier cars going by, thinking “someday I’ll have a husband who wants me to drive one of those,” when I caught myself at it. I mean thinking that very crazy notion.

And I realized that I don’t need anyone’s approval or wish for me to drive a hot car — I can have whatever the hell car I want for myself because I’m in charge. And I value me and I don’t need approval from anyone. Of course I know this. Of course I’ve had this realization before…yet still, on some level, I realized this mental pattern meant I’m still seeking direction, approval, competence, the “go-ahead” from somewhere outside myself.

Clearly this is a pattern for me:  one of those nasty, sticky karmic lessons that doesn’t want to go away until it’s well and truly engrained into my noggin. Seems like every time I peel back another layer, I need to learn the same lesson again, in some nuanced new way…

So I hereby declare myself competent, independent, in charge and approved. As is. And I will do what the hell I want…whether it means driving this rice grinder into the ground or hailing a hot new chariot. It’s all me, Baby!


written in the stars

I have one of those daily horoscope apps on my smart phone. Today, it had this message for me:

“Pretend for a moment that love is like a star in the sky. It twinkles in the distance. It is surrounded by darkness. It is far away and unattainable. You can’t…get in your rocket ship and soar to a star. If you have felt cynical or hopeless about having the best kind of love in your life, it may be because you are — without realizing it — thinking of it as something you cannot really have. But you can. And the time has never been better. Take the first step…”

Hmmm…a thinker:  both challenging and really, really nice. I’m open…


word to your mother

A huge shout out to those of you who are mothers, who understand that “loving your children” is more than a feeling, who are living examples of the kind of persons they are trying to raise, who put in the hard work and difficult choices of raising our future citizenry with principles, compassion, love and so much more!

And, then, when I wasn’t looking, The Atlantic published this. Even bigger shout out to the single mothers (and single parents, in general).