Single Mom’s Life

That’s right, folks. I am now accepting donations. Any all and spare funds you have are welcome. I accept cash and check. I will, however, require a valid Driver’s License for all checks.

I don’t want to explain all right now because I don’t want to jinx things. But let’s just say, I have a grand opportunity to provide a secure and safe environment for me and my children and I’m rounding up all the cash I can. Which goes to show you, worthy donors, that your funds will in fact go to a worthy cause. I mean, isn’t the safety and security of young children a fantastic cause?

And so you think this isn’t some grand scheme, I am putting forth my own money to the cause. A lot of money. All spare cash, birthday cash gifts and tax returns are being invested. And it’s going to have a big return. Not for you, but for me.

Ok, truth be told I’m not knocking door-to-door for donations. I’m not even asking for donations. Although I won’t go as far as to say any donation would be turned down. Unless, of course, you cannot provide a valid Driver’s License.

I’ve got nothing to talk about. Well, nothing that would be of interest to you. I could talk about the continual problems and stress that I’ve been experiencing with S. But that would just piss me off. And really, we don’t want to do that, now do we?

I could talk about how I went to dinner at a friend’s house for Valentine’s Day. And then went dancing. And how I stood on the dance floor looking around, in utter disbelief that I am now, once again, one of these singletons back out in the dating game. And how depressing that thought was. But then I would get depressed. And we don’t want that, now do we?

I could talk about how I have an awful schedule for work this week. I’ve got M’s dentist appointment at 8:00 AM tomorrow, then dropping her off at school, driving to work and then turning around and leaving at 12:15 to head downtown for a Customer Advisor Board meeting. Then how I have an all day meeting on Wednesday. Then how I have a lunch meeting on Thursday. And that’s just off the top of my head! But then, I’d get overwhelmed and frazzled. And we don’t want that, now do we?

I could talk about how the house I’m renting is actually for sale and has had two showings in the past few days. And how I’m worried that it will be sold and we will have to move. And since I’m worried, I refuse to move M to a new school, so I’m driving her 20 minutes away to school until I know. Until things are settled. But then I’d start worrying. And we don’t want that, now do we?

So instead, I’ll talk about how I took M out for a “Valentine’s Day” dinner tonight. Yes, two nights later, but hey, we still did it. And how we went to Olive Garden. And how neither one of us finished our meals, but we still ordered dessert because hey, it’s our Valentine’s dinner. And how I let her order the dessert. And how she was trying to be so grown up about ordering it. And how she did so well, until she said “We’ll have the Black Tie Chocolate Mouse Cake.” Hmmm…. chocolate mouse cake. We don’t want that, now do we?

So I’ve been down in the dumps as of late. And for obvious reasons. And unfortunately, instead of using this blog, a blog that most of my coworkers do not know about, I’ve been using my Facebook status as my outlet. Which is not always a great thing when most of your “friends” are coworkers. Coworkers including your CEO, several VPs and cohorts in crime, I mean eCommerce.

One such VP is my VP of HR. The man is hilarious. Very caring and very kind. A few of my status updates have solicited responses from him. Everything from “shoes can’t help a mood” (Oh I beg to differ. I am a girl, shoes can usually help any situation. And this conversation landed me in his blog. Quite an honor!!!) to the simple keep your chin up, girl. My latest status just received a comment from him. Earlier today I made a comment about being a glass half full kind of girl right now. No one commented. I didn’t expect them to. But just now, my VPHR sent a message, from Tokyo, I believe, telling me “Well, let’s just see if we can’t fill that glass all the way to the top!”

Now a normal girl would respond by saying something to the effect of I’m trying or It’s full again. Me? I’m no normal girl. And playing off of his (hopefully) great sense of humor responded with the following:

“I’m working on it. Does a full wine glass count? And here’s hoping your trip home is a whole lot easier than the trip going!”

Well in this situation, the shoes aren’t helping, but boy I’m sure hoping the glass of wine does. If nothing for a great night’s sleep.

Update: I just received this response. Thank you VPHR for your glorious sense of humor:

“You just put whatever you need in that glass to get out of your slump. Maybe we should pour a little liquid in one of your glass shoes. Don’t have glass shoes? Girl, you better go shopping and buy yourself a pair.”

To which a girl could only respond:

“Alas, the one pair I’ve never owned. A pair of glass slippers (shoes). Does it count that my favorite pair has what looks like glass heels? Sure, anything counts when you’re talking shoes! And if it doesn’t count, I’m taking half a day to go find a pair!”

All in a day’s work!

I know it’s been awhile. And I know the last time I was speaking of change. Change for this country. Change for the people of America. But today, it’s about change with me. Change with my life.

For those of you who may not know, S and I split. And he would prefer to say it’s a trial separation and that we can date and work towards getting back together. And one part of me would love that. I do still love him. That hasn’t changed. But a big part of me knows that there are a lot of changes, that we would both have to make, for it to work out. Changes that I’m not sure either one of us are able or willing to make. We are both older, set in our ways and our mindsets. If we couldn’t, or wouldn’t, make those changes in 4 years, what will separating and starting over do? In my opinion, probably not much. But I still would love to hold out hope. But a change in me is that I’m becoming more realistic about what can happen. But my heart still holds out hope.

No, I’m not saying that S and I are getting back together. My head knows that. We are not good for each other. He does such and such that drives me mad. I do such and such that drives him mad. No point in airing dirty laundry and telling you what those such and suchs are. But we can attempt to be friends.

So, on Saturday, I packed up and my brother, his friend and a few loyal and awesome guys from work came and helped me move out. Helped me change. Helped me move out 3 years of memories. No, I can’t say that, because I left that all behind. I took what was mine. What I moved in with. Forfeited all the shared items. Some say I got screwed. And yes, maybe I did. But it was easier to leave it behind than to fight and haggle over it. Maybe at some point we can get to the point were it wouldn’t be a fight.

I held strong that day. I wanted to cry. But people were coming over to help. I couldn’t be weak. I had to be strong. And I did. Until the time came to take the keys off my key chain. I was alone in the kitchen. Then I lost it. Moving all my possessions out was not the sign of it ending. Putting those keys on the counter and knowing that the house was no longer mine. I would only maybe be back as a friend, visiting, keeping things civil, allowing M and maybe B to see the dogs.

And see the dogs tonight we did. And he was gracious enough to allow us to come see them. M had asked me to ask him if we could. And I knew it was going to be hard. My heart was aching and hurting just driving over there. Pulling up, walking into the house. The familiarity. It hurt. I cried. I’ve cried a lot over the last week. But I have to be able to do this so that my children can transition. Some will disagree. Some will say that I should just cut and run. But it’s not fair to the girls. To the dogs. They were family for three years.

Three years as a family. Four years as a couple. Not easy to let go of. Some times I find myself thinking and wishing that we could work it out. That we could move back into the house we have known. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t feel that way at times. I would be heartless if I did. Through all the bad, there was a lot of good. A lot of feelings. A lot of love. But, then I think about how I can now come home and not be anxious at what I am walking into. What mess. What fight. What mood. I leave work and am not filled with anxiety. Change has come. And it’s moments like that when I know I am home.