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!

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…

crazy life

Life’s been a little crazy, y’all, so I haven’t had much time to write. There are children’s club or school activities each night, and much mayhem in the workplace. Here’s the rest in a nutshell:

I went to my first-ever sex toy party last weekend…and all I could think about was how much fun this stuff would be if there was a guy in my life to experiment with me! (Okay, truth be told, I was imagining the fun my ex boyfriend and I would have had with those toys!) And the other weirdness about it was that, for all the fodder, the girls (friends of a friend) never really got very fun or playful. Most of the women I know will confess that we can easily get far more raunchy than any group of men. Heck, even my co-workers at the office and I have had conversations that were more suggestive and knowing and “girlfriend-y” than what was going on at this “party.” Oh well, at least I can say I’ve been to one.
Mother’s Day is coming up Sunday. My children are cheerily bringing home plants from school and hiding cards and offering me back rubs and other sweet gestures; meanwhile, I’m not sure Hallmark makes a card that adequately expresses the sentiments I feel for my mother at this moment. She has just bought a car with her long-time ex, which prompted a greater flurry of communication between her children (me) and sister (my aunt) and daughter-in-law than we typically have in a given year. What to do with our crazy mother, who has clearly lost her mind?! One day, I got the recap of my sister-in-law’s conversation with her; the next, I heard my brother-in-law pleading with (yelling at) her to “Wake the fu#% up!” in the midst of a passionate and inspired 45-minute diatribe. My own words toward her were frank, laced with kindness and entirely ungenerous to her ex. She is getting a book about verbal abuse for a Mother’s Day gift. If she doesn’t find it useful in her relationship with the sociopath in her home, perhaps she can at least learn to deal with the rest of us.
Finally, my ex (boyfriend, not husband) texted me today, calling me “sweetie.” I wonder if he’s been thinking about me as much as I’ve been thinking about him, or if he just accidentally texted the wrong girl…? Regardless, it was sweet to hear from him.

Stay tuned…

devotion

I feel as though I’ve had a breakthrough: feelings of overwhelm and sadness I had earlier this year have passed and (aside from the allergies) I’m feeling more energetic, waking earlier, powering through most work days, feeling sharp and generally thinking my life is pretty awesome! I am strong and certain of my boundaries.

Looking back on recent challenging times (and, yes, of course I know there will always be more ahead), I view them as part of the process, peeling back another layer of the onion…in a word, growth.

Here, on the other side, I am quite happily not dating. My life is fulfilling as it is. I am also noticing an entirely new level of openness to possibility. (Thus, I suspect I would also be quite happy if I were dating.)

Where a few short months ago I wasn’t able to fully give myself over to a loving relationship, I feel capable now — capable of giving as well as receiving, capable of feeling that kind of full-on “in it-ness,” capable of genuine devotion.

I’m not actively looking, mind you, but I’m open to whatever might develop naturally.

As a footnote, I’ll Have Another just won the Kentucky Derby…he wasn’t the most powerful-looking horse, he didn’t have the most experienced jockey, he didn’t start out ahead of the pack. If a horse like that can come from behind and win the race…well, let’s just say that gives me hope, too.

baby crazy

Today I’ve learned that another of my girlfriends is pregnant. She’s the second wife, and he will have grandchildren older than their coming arrival. And I can’t help but feel just a bit surprised.

Sure, this happens all the time. But, given their lifestyle and such, I guess I’d just assumed that they’d talked before getting married and decided to be wonderful aunt and uncle and grandparents. But, oh, what a wonderful treat to have a baby!

I met another friend and her one-year-old for brunch over the weekend. My children sat bored and restless, playing with electronic devices, while I, smitten, cooed over the darling little girl. My girlfriend was 39, nearly 40, when she had her daughter. Another girlfriend has just undergone IVF…fingers crossed.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve got babies on the brain. I suppose it’s safe to confess that I’m baby crazy!

Would I have another? I’ve gone back and forth many times since my youngest was born (now more than eight years ago), even considering becoming a surrogate to give another couple the joy of becoming parents. My son even remarked a few years ago, “Mommy, I think you’d have another baby if you could.” Last week, I saw a profile of three children waiting for adoption and wished I were capable of bestowing such miracles on my own. I’ve often thought about hosting exchange students or taking in foster children…if I weren’t a single, that is. (Even as a single, I may yet do such things as my children grow a wee bit older…)

Ultimately, with my other roles as parent and provider, such musings have yet to come to anything. And today, while I’ve counted myself for some time among the well and truly finished, unwilling to go back to wee-hour feedings and diaper pails, I think I might just be open…if the stars aligned…if the man and wind conditions were right…perhaps if I could stay home at least part of the time…I might be open to considering it.

My children are, of course, dead set against this. But they can be bribed. Further, they are not in charge.

Ultimately, my conclusion is this: I have an open heart and an open mind and many, many gifts that might be shared in any number of ways. For the moment, I’ll revel in being an honorary aunt to my friends’ babies — and someday, sooner than if I had a newborn, a social life.

Peter Pan

Somehow I’ve always managed to attract a certain type of men: When I was not yet thirty, the fifty-year-olds were drawn to me like white on rice, like moths to a lamp. Lately, it seems to be guys who don’t want to grow up, who want to live in the moment, who don’t have any kind of vision for the future. Or is it just that a disproportionate number of the available men out there are single because they aren’t interested in commitment?

In any case, I sometimes wonder whether I should be concerned about the trend, concerned that maybe I’m giving off a “fantasy” vibe, rather than “marriage-potential” vibe.

I’ve been clear about what interests me, and I’ve aligned my behavior to my long-term interests, eschewing easy dalliances. After all, I’d hate to end up back in a relationship with a man who ultimately required as much parenting as my children. A man (by this age) ought to have some sense of self, strong core values and a clear understanding of the expectations of commitment. He ought to be mature enough to behave with integrity and conduct himself with a certain amount of dignity.

My latest six-month romance was with a man who bucked the trend: he was dignified and intentional (though he would have said “deliberate”) about living a set of values. In fact, he may have been the most mature man I’ve ever dated. It goes without saying that these are qualities I admire.

So I’m going to bless that chapter of my life, express my gratitude for the experience and know, with confidence, that I’ll recognize such qualities when I next experience them.

perceptions

When he first met me, my former guy thought I was proper, “prissy” and materialistic. While he recently mentioned that he still thinks I’m prissy (what on earth does that even mean, prissy? and are there girls who aren’t?), I think he ultimately saw beyond his other misperceptions to a woman whose heart and values are in the right place.

A work colleague recently confessed that her now husband thought she was repulsive and obnoxious the first time they met…and now look!

One guy I dated pressed me about my first impressions about him until I finally confessed, “man boobs.” I said this while we were in bed. We both had a good laugh and, the next day, he started doing push ups.

My point is that perceptions are regularly skewed, our snap judgements are often just plain wrong, and it’s often more rewarding to keep our hearts and minds open and allow the magic of the universe to unfold.

I mean, what if it was all part of the cosmic plan for the hung-over ball player to be so put off by the gregarious, fun-loving woman from work, just so that he noticed her? Where would life have led them if he hadn’t?

What have you missed out on because you judged too quickly or harshly?

What beauty or bliss have you experienced because you led with your heart?

world gone mad

There’s a whole new level of crazy going on in my world, so pardon me if you don’t hear more for a few days. I’m happy to report that it is not me or my immediate life, but some wackness in my extended family…and we’re talking serious dysfunction. Like “should we have her committed and ask a judge for durable power of attorney?” messed-up-ness.

In other news, I’m actually delighted that none of you seemed to care about my boobs…no likes, no comments.

Let’s get back to talk of dating soon…

where am I going with this?

I honestly don’t know.

I thought I had a good concept going with failedatforty.com — a good story and one with potential legs. For example, I could have been “fierce at forty-one,” or “failed to fierce” or “failed to fabulous.”

But, truth be told, I had started dating by the time I thought I’d be ready to do these things. And I’d started to begin thinking about my professional growth again, which meant I didn’t have as much time or energy to spend here. And I didn’t feel fierce at all. I felt…soft. Which was not only unexpected, but also without alliteration.

Unexpectedly soft. That’s how I felt in a relationship with a manly guy with manly man energy. And — I know it sounds crazy — I loved it! I’m sure my guy would have laughed and joked, “soft as nails!” But I know he enjoyed being man enough to match my strong-willed energy. Strong on the inside, soft and flexible on the outside…it was like that thing Joan Armatrading sings about in her song Willow: “strong, straight, willing…”

So, I’m not sure I feel all that soft anymore, really…neither do I feel fierce. Maybe sometimes. Occasionally fabulous. Perhaps I’m failed to fabulous? I guess time will tell…

In the meantime, I’m just going to keep dropping in, sharing some about thoughts about relationships, dating and being when the mood arises.

Let me know what you think.