Single, not alone

I pull my blanket up tight around me as though it will replace the warm arms I wish would hold me. In my warm cocoon of comfort, another wave of loneliness hits me. I want to be taken care of. I want to be loved, but I’m alone. Who would love me? I don’t even know if I love me. Some days I love myself. However, days like today, I feel like love is out of reach, meant only for a fairy tale. Not me. Oh no! Tears are rolling down my cheeks again. I hate it when they do that! I look over to see if my son noticed that I'm crying. He hasn't. He is focusing on his game. That’s good at least. I don’t want him to feel like it’s his job to take care of me. If I were a good mom, I would wipe my tears, get out of bed, and take the tablet away so he would do something worthwhile. But no, I'm not ready for the tantrum that is sure to unfold. We would both be in tears then. What good would that do? I can’t deal with it today. I quit! Rolling over, I put my back to my son, and shut my...

Being a single parent is difficult. Being a single parent and having share your child is torture. It can feel like you are failing even when your child is away with another parent. The loss of control can feel like your heart is being ripped out. However, just because your child is away, doesn't mean that you are being replaced or that you are less important to your child. They think of you while you are separated and will come running to your arms when you are reunited. Treasure the moments with them. Even the painful moments where they cry and you just listen will mean something to your children. Son: “Hey mommy! Thanks for calling me. I tried calling you so much times but you didn’t answer. Why didn’t you answer me?” I need to focus on driving but I miss you so much baby boy. Mom: “I’m sorry bud, I was at work. I can’t talk to you when I am at work.” I wish I could, I got your sweet messages. You told me I was a lovely mom and should call you. I wanted to right th...

(I accidentally deleted this post so here it is again. Just a random story for your entertainment. Enjoy!) The kids are playing nicely in the playroom. My siblings are surrounding me. “Game night!” We decide. Soon, our minds are engrossed in an intense game of of trickery and deceit. My brothers rule the game as they team up, making me lose miserably. My mind is only on revenge as I hear a shrill sound coming from the playroom. The sound is a distress call coming from my nephew. The game screeches to a stop as the child's mother goes to release him from the playroom. Only a few moments pass when we hear her shout, “What on Earth? Where are your clothes?” There is a brief moment of silence as the children realize they have been caught. The silence is shortly followed by a burst of uncontrollable giggles as my son emerges from the playroom. I suddenly understand the cause of his amusement. He is exposed and completely naked. My gaze glaces behind my nude son and I see another naked ...

I don’t really know what age I was when I lost my smile. It would come and go until one day it was just...gone. The plastic smile I put on the outside of my face got much more attention than it deserved.  “I love your smile! They would all say. I would reply with a quick  “Thanks” and duck my head. My smile looked real enough but it was not connected to my heart. My smile was a hollow mask that only reminded me of how sad I was on the inside.  I was not satisfied with my fake smile. A quest was needed to find my real smile. I looked at school. Everyone seemed so happy at school with their groups and their friends, so I found my group. It was the theater group. Everyone there seemed a bit odd which helped me fit in. I found glimpses of my smile by pretending I was someone else on stage. However, the smile seemed to melt away whenever I stopped playing a part and tried to be myself. My theater people were loud. So loud that I could pretend that everything was ju...

I know they are whispering. I see it in their face. I know they are judging, for how could they not? My son is running wild, causing mayhem in his path. I'm tired. Tired of yelling, tired of trying, tired of feeling like the bad guy, tired of feeling hopeless, tired of failing. I let him run free while I shut my eyes but as I rest, I feel the disappointment around me. "Can't she control him? Why is she doing nothing? I would never let my child do that. That kid is loud. He is a bully. He is crazy and not in a good way. He is a bad example. I don't want him around my children. I don't want him around me." I lay there in and out of consciousness, not sure if their words are in my head or spoken softly behind my back, but it hurts the same. They don't want my son. They must not want me. They hate me. My son is in trouble again. I'm terrified of discipline. They expect me to mess up. They expect me to lose my temper. I have been told one too many times...

"I chose the right mommy. Can we talk about the mommy shop and daddy shop and boy shop? I went to the mommy shop and looked at your face and said, ‘you have my mommy's face’ and so I picked you. Then I picked daddy and then you and daddy picked me and Jesus said 'You have parents!! You have parents!!!!' And then he said 'That's right. while doing a cool, gun pointing gesture. - AJ age 4 I stand hopeful, my smile frozen in place on my face to hide my nerves. Children swarm up the isles of the store. The mommy next to me tries to make some idle chatter about how she will be chosen by the best children ever. I nod while thinking the same thing about my children. I wait. I see two beautifully dressed children walk right up to me. They have golden hair with deep blue eyes. One is a girl, the other, an older boy. The girl reaches out and takes my hand. She is gentle. My once forced smile becomes genuine. “Pick me,” I think. “Oh please pick me!” The older boy...

Today is the day. I have time. I have energy. I have desire. This whole house will be spotless! With tunes blasting, I start strong. First, I begin with the messiest task, my bedroom. The scattered toys are the first to go. “Where did all these toys come from?” I ask my son as I consider making the garbage can the final resting place for the toys. Suddenly, a rare surge of motivation helps me jump to action when an idea comes to my mind. “Fetch me paper, sissies, tape, and a marker please.” I instruct my son. Curious, he races to obey. “What ya doing mommy?” My boy asks as he hands me the objects I asked for. “I'm making labels so you can know where to put your toys,” I reply. I begin my task. Art drawer... labeled! Costume drawer... done! Puzzles, sensory toys, games, projects, Legos, blocks, junk drawer, penny drawer, drawer that holds NOTHING! All the drawers are labeled perfectly. I feel successful as we sort all the toys into the correct bins. My dear son has to examine and pl...