Single Mom’s Life

When we’re trying to arrange the picking up and dropping off of the kids, don’t get pissy when I ask if you are bringing her here or if we are meeting somewhere. I am not the one who decided to move to B.F.E., otherwise known as Utah County. I have lived in the same place for over 2 years. You have moved from 5 miles away to 20 miles away to 30 miles away to now who knows how far away. I will not drive all the way there. I did not choose to move that far away. You did. The pissy attitude is not appreciated. Be grateful that I am willing to meet you somewhere close to halfway. I could be the bitch that I normally am and say you will pick up and drop off the kids all the time. I know gas prices are high right now. I know it takes a lot of gas for your big ass truck to drive here. I know it takes a lot of time. I’m understanding of all this. Really I am. But again…you chose the new location.

See you tomorrow.

Labor Day was a normal Labor Day around here. I was off. M was off. S was off. We were grilling and hanging out and talking. Listening to music. We had it on easy listening. That’s mostly our style. Calming, just in the background, nothing too loud. Yet on this particular day, it kept playing songs. Certain songs. Songs that remind you of past loves. “Your songs”. And it got me thinking of those past loves. And how they were. What they did. The things that I loved about them. The things that bugged about them. And I started wondering how each was doing. And how, when you’re young, you feel like it’s the end of the world when you break up. How will you EVER live without them. You can’t. You won’t. You have to have them back. Life won’t continue without them. But yet…it always does. Or maybe, you knew life would be so much better. The world was your oyster. You were ready for the taking. Bring on the men.

Anyone who has dated has no doubt felt both ways when a relationship has ended. When Mike and I didn’t work out freshman year, I sat for an entire Saturday listening to Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You”. I was heartbroken. He was a senior. I was a freshman. He was an AMAZING kisser. But, I wouldn’t go all the way, so we didn’t go very far after that. My first boyfriend I had “made out” with. I was devastated. I think of him every time I hear that song now. That song, and Boyz II Men’s “End Of The Road”. It was the song that our group always turned the lights down low and slow danced to. He and I slow danced to that song many times. The radio played both on Labor Day. Last I heard, he joined the navy.

Then there was Andrew. Not going to even discuss him.

And Bryan. Bryan and I dated off and on my sophmore and junior year. It ended my sophmore year because I told a friend of both of our’s that kissing him was like kissing my brother. Not that I ever truly knew that. But there was no connection. Then we got back together. It was better. We had more fun. Then it was time for him to go off to college. We talked on the phone. Kept in touch, but drifted. I set him up with a friend of mine. In chronological order: He ended up losing his virginity to her. He said he would take me to Homecoming junior year. We decided that night to get back together. A month and a half later, said friend was supposedly pregnant with his child. Friend got an abortion. We were still together. We tried the long distance, you’re at college, I’m in high school thing. It didn’t work. We were better off as friends. But, he still holds a special place in my heart. Last I heard, he was getting married. That was 12 years ago. I got an invitation to the wedding. I didn’t go.

Then Brad. I met him at the worst possible time in my life. We met during this. I don’t want to go into that whole story. Not just yet. But our wedding song was “Always” by Atlantic Starr. The radio played that song on Monday. And I don’t truly regret our marriage. I did get two beautiful little girls from it. And I definitely do not regret our divorce. But hearing that song made me think of him. Last I heard, he was remarried and happily living a little south of here with his wife, her three sons and my one daughter.

And while I was sitting on the couch, thinking of loves gone by, “Looks Like We Made It” by Barry Manilow started playing. I smiled and shook my head. Yes, my past loves, it does look like we made it. Whether we’ve made it good or made it bad, whether we’ve hit a bump or two or twelve, we’ve made it through our break ups. We’ve moved on. We survived. All of you, even the ones I didn’t mention here, will always have a place in my heart, for better or worse. And yes, some…you were worse. Yes, Barry, it looks like we made it.

Doesn’t it seem like the more things change, the more they stay the same? I’m down one kid now, but I’m still as busy as ever. Yes, one child has left the building. But unlike Elvis, we know where to find her. B has decided to move in with her dad. Though I offered many things and changes, this is something that she has wanted to do since the divorce. She has always been a daddy’s girl. That I’ve known.

But the truth is, she gets away with more over there. Eating habits are not as strictly enforced. Extracurricular activites are not of high importance. She gets her cell phone over there (which was banned from this house after we found a few swear word texts between her and her stepbrother). Cleaning habits are not as enforced. It is, by all means, easier over there. It’s not easy over here. Eating habits are worried about. Extracurricular activites are encouraged, sometimes forced, over here. Cell phones are not allowed. Swearing is not allowed. Clean rooms and taking showers and brushing your teeth are necessities here. Drinking water, not soda, is a requirement.

Man, come to think of it, we are raging asses here (at least in a kid’s eyes). I can only hope that one day, she will see that we just had her best interests at heart. That we did/enforced these things because we cared. Because we wanted her to succeed in life. Because we wanted her to pursue her passions or simply find a passion.

I won’t lie and say it hasn’t been hard adjusting to this. I’ve cried. I’ve had heartburn over the above mentioned items. I worry that she won’t turn out the same. I worry about what she is doing. What she is watching. What she is eating. I worry about it all.

I also won’t lie and say it hasn’t made life a little easier. It is easier to get one kid up and ready to go to school. It is easier only having one child’s extracurricular activities to worry about. It is easier to entertain one child.

But I wouldn’t trade the easier times for my daughter. I wish she was home. I wish she wanted to be here. But, she doesn’t. And no offers I made were going to change her mind. So we deal with it. We work out a schedule so that M isn’t home alone or doesn’t have to go to daycare. We try to make M’s life a little better. She’s been affected by this too. She no longer has her sister. She no longer has someone with her when she goes to sleep at night in her room, in the basement. She no longer has someone to play with. Which, hasn’t been all too bad. She is learning to entertain herself. She is using her imagination and playing by herself more. Something she never did when B was here. She is getting more one-on-one attention. I only hope it’s enough to satisfy her.

Speaking of M. She is ROCKING the drums. We always hear her practicing her drums. But she gave S and I a concert the other night. I am completely amazed at the progress she has made in a few short months. And while loud, the full drum kit was absolutely a great idea. She has flourished and blossomed in her skills. And she’s having a ball doing it. She’s good. No, she’s great. I see M supporting her mama within a few years on a rock star’s living. But before that, I better make sure she has the raising and the training to not live a full “rock star’s life”.

And as promised, here is a pic of her new hair. Not the best pic, but one that we’ve got. It’s adorable, don’t you think?