Raising the amazing kid

He's a sweet loving polite little 8year old.

People always comment on how awesome he is it's because he is pretty awesome. 

I read a couple books but once he just started to grow it became about learning to survive through experience versus reading about survival methods.

Parenthood is a two person job. Single parenthood is a multiple person job. 

We've done it since the beginning, just me and my boy. We've had lots of fun bonding crazy moments along with our share of challenging days.

We've both turned out quite alright.

I'm quick to be very modest when people compliment me on his awesomeness, I swear he was packaged with it and handed to me exactly that way. 

I'm still learning about myself and juggling with packing lunch and what will our dinner will look like the rest of the week.

Life is hard enough without so many outside influences jacking up your plans. 

Enter the fidget spinner.

Those damn fidget spinners.

They came out of nowhere and overnight every child knew about them and stores were fully stocked leaving most of us parents who thought we were cool out in the cold. 

I would say we've owned at least 5 spinners.

At 5 bucks a piece that's not so bad but the fancy onces do exist. 

I purchased one or two of them for the kid. He bought one or two with his own money. Grandma also fell into the fidget trap and bought a couple upon request. 

School drama with trading these things quickly got out of hand. 

An afterschool teacher explained to me that after a trade they realized the goods were stolen and had to return to its rightful owner leaving the kid empty handed with the short end of the stick. I left it alone and walked away. A PE teacher confiscating one that cost three times the normal ones only to misplace it and never return it finally made me put my foot down.

I would not buy anymore fidget spinners.

Why do we feel so guilty when we try to lay some rules down. 

After what I thought was a perfect morning matinee and breakfast date with the kid, we walked in one of those phone accessories places to replace the screen protector on my phone.

I laid down my warning stronger than ever: 

"We are not buying anything, I'm finally replacing this screen on my phone and that's all". 

His reply: "Ok, I'm just gonna look"

20 minutes later I'm rethinking buying a nit 5 dollar, not 10 dollar but a 20 dollar fidget spinner.

What is wrong with me. 

He was so excited.

His face lit up.

There were so many stupid spinners to choose from.

So many he had "always wanted".

I held my ground and said no.

I felt bad.

I watched another mom adamantly tell her daughter that she had 2 and she wasn't getting another.

Why didn't she hesitate or feel bad.

We stepped out of the store empty handed and tears flowed down the awesome kids face.

Then I got angry and couldn't believe he would cry over a damn fidget spinner.

We walked away one of us in tears and the other in guilt.

I paid for my parking and drove two blocks away and found a street parking space to soak in my guilt. 

I tried explaining to him why he couldn't have it while he tried explaining why he wanted it.

He remembered he had 20 dollars in his wallet at home and wanted to buy one with his money. I agreed that he could reimburse me when we got home.

Happy kid.

Happy momma.

Happy life.

One week later, we are still proud owners of a 20 dollar metal golden spinner.

He also held his end of the bargain and handed me the 20, in a busy mommy moment I told him to put it in a jar in the kitchen table.

In my mind he would earn it back.

He received good comments at school and I told him I'd like to see the same for the entire week. My guilt was still alive and well for taking his little folded up 20 he saved in his wallet.

Fast forward, the 20 in the jar is gone.

Poof!

Like it was never even there.

While outside of the house I casually ask him if he took it and he said no.

Strike one.

A few days later post weekend life when I finally get a chance to check the jar and we are both home he admits to taking the money. 

Strike two.

He doesn't remember where he's put it.

And then goes on to search a general toy area. He motions he hands and tells me he put it "here" like when you bury something in the sand and can only hover over it.

I'm pissed.

Strike three.

I don't know where to begin in this stupid lesson and can only manage to tell him he needs to find it and that's all.

He spends about 20 minutes and comes up empty.

After homework he attempts again.

Then again after dinner.

He starts to cry and asks if he could pay me back on his next birthday when he gets money.

I'm still pissed.

I don't care.

But then there is that motherly sympathy I feel when he offered to give me back the money in his next birthday, the only time he knows he will get more money.

When he finally asks to go to bed, he says that this is the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

I proceed to ask him what exactly has happened to him.

He thinks it's about not being about to find the money and all he wants to do is go to sleep.

I explain a lot more to him.

I explain to him that as his parent there are choices I have to make for the both of us every single day. 

I revisit the details of the day we purchase the fidget spinner and how our agreement was that he would pay for it and how it was wrong to go back on your word and then in turn take someone else's money.

I don't know what if any point got across to him. 

I think he was really just tired.

I was disappointed.

Somewhere I feel like something went wrong.

I try to dissect my parenting skills this far and can't quite figure it out.

Then I remember he's 8.

He's still learning, I'm still leaning, and there never ever will be a perfect level of yelling nor will there ever be a perfect way to have a teaching conversation. 

to be or not to be

Does choosing happiness in life necessarily mean that you chose to be happy?

Is "Human flourishing"  a more accurate way to describe happiness?
(do not consult the dictionary)

I think I have made a conscious choice to be happy all the while finding happiness in the choices I've made to be happy.
I rarely ever self pity but I usually am suspicious of others pitying me.

the single girl.
the single mom.

There isn't a anything single about me.
I do double of what any non single parent does, then how come I'm deemed a single parent, I'm actually a double parent, even quadruple parent at times.

Truth is, I pity the crowd, the majority.
The ones who took the road of the expected.
The ones who took the road traveled by, worn paths and directions included.
The ones who chose to be "happy".

With their perfect married lives and their perfect two car garages, walking their perfectly behaved dog while their perfectly aged children run around the outdoor suburbs of their perfectly mowed lawn while the soundtrack to their perfectly timed lives is almost too perfect for the latest Jcrew Christmas catalog.

Are they really happy?
Does the sound of nothing keep them overjoyed with contentment by the positive, pleasant emotions they are overcome with?
Or is the picture perfect catalog shoot simply a photoshoot?
When all the photogs are gone, the costumes removed, the makeup washed off and the lights go out, when door is shut, is the same happiness alive?

Does looking at your spouse make your heart skip a beat?
Are you truly, madly, deeply in love with the person you vowed to spend the rest of your life with?
Or  has it merely become a comfortable routine?

The American dream.
The one in which boy meets girl, boy dates girl, boy proposes to girl, girl becomes wife, wife becomes mother and they live happily ever after.

The perfect groundhog day dream that you are forced to live in day after day after day after day.

Yup, I pity them.
I am just not the "happy" housewife type of woman.

I'm more of the looking for a really deep connection kind of bitch.
The one where we may or may not live in a big house, our apartment may be the size of a garage, my child may or may not be biologically yours but hey a badass blended family we have become...and we eat out ALOT...and we do non traditional things like dress up as a trio for Halloween and dance to Madonna and LFMAO naturally.

I don't want it all.
Not the traditional American dream, I want even more.....I want my twisted version of it.
The one where I am really happy.
I chose my happiness.
In all of its frowned upon glory, judgment passing, sympathetic smile invoking, I choose it.
Pity me and my single mom ass.

Oh It's just emotions taking me over.....

Caught up in sorrow, lost in the song?

But...

I don't want anyone to come back.

Don't need anyone to come home to me.

Don't need a darling.

There IS someone left in this world to hold me tight. 

Emotions are there though. 

High emotions. 

A weekend full of emotions started on Friday. I'd love to blame Paddington but it was a cute movie that the kid and I enjoyed.

Truth is these emotions have been there, surpressed, bottled up, almost disguised themselves as nonexistent.

I sat and watched as the family of four welcomed the orphaned bear.

It started with the mum. Someone kind and gentle, caring enough to lend help to a stranger. Her children were open and willing, a trait they seemed to inherit from her. The father on the other hand, stubborn and angry. 

The disconnect is what once brought the couple together to form the dynamic seemed forgotten. 

Paddington went on to be the amazing little teddy that helped them all realize what the love was made of that once fueled the family. He brought out the best that was always there but masked by life and the individual.

Then my thoughts got ahead of me.

And the tears slowly rolled down my cheeks.

I kept them pretty quiet.

My mind couldn't help remember that I had chosen this life.

Approximately 6 years ago I did just that.

I decided to become a single mom.

Everyone has choices and I have previously said that mine was a given. I would have a baby. 

I couldn't help but think that I hadn't quite thought it all through.

6 single years.

6 picky bitch years.

6 learning years.

6 amazing little boy years.

But it's just the two of us. 

I yearn for a significant other and at the same time I don't.

The kid wishes he had a little sister but he doesn't.

Then there's the big elephant in the room of not having a father figure. 

I'm afraid.

I don't like to be vulnerable.

I don't like to admit I need want someone.

I don't like to let myself believe the fact that it's nice to have someone care about me for a change. 

So I hide. 

And I surpress.

And then when a brilliant kid movie like paddington comes out, the unsuspecting mom in me that's got it all figured out suddenly turns into a softie.

And then my friends, the tears came.

Panic mode was interrupted when the kid turned to me and asked why were there tears on my face.

The softie swallowed hard and replied, no reason.

The kid insisted on wiping my tears and then we sat in silence and watched the rest of the movie. 

Oh but friends to my dismay the flood gates were fully open. 

My emotional weekend had just begun.

The kid has begun to say things I can't handle in the most adorable almost 6 year old way. With a flourishing vocab and curious questions, I stare. I honestly can't get enough of him. 

I then tell myself

It's just emotion taking me over...caught up in....? 

NO

Not caught up in any fucking emotion.

Just dreams and thoughts of what ifs and what could've beens and what isn't. 

Now I'm really in my head. 

And I can't stop thinking of the stupid family dynamic and the stupid father figure we are lacking but may I remind you that I don't want need...the stupid second child that I may have had if I had the stupid father figure/stupid husband that I may have enjoyed but let me remind you of the fact that I don't want need any more kids.

New Year, SAME HOPE!

As I embark upon my fifth year on this solo mission called parenting, I reflect.

I think about my pregnancy and it being one of the happiest times in my  life. The tiny person growing inside of me and the miracle I was put in charge of. The simplest things like the best sleep I’ve had in my life and the movement of my curved belly after a generous meal. At the hospital, I panicked.  The pain was overwhelming and realistically unpredictable but the joy shortly after gave me full satisfaction. Returning home to my tiny unprepared apartment made me emotional. Nothing was ready. The new apartment I had moved into at almost 7months pregnant 3 months prior was still not completely unpacked. The first night alone with the tiny human became the first feeding to the first bath, the first tooth, the first walk and the list goes on, and I became better at being a mom.

I even created an alter ego of the person I’d become while in mommy mode multitasking my way through life. Her name is Obstacle Anne. She is a fierce superwoman. From carrying a dozen grocery bags along w a stroller with a sleeping baby strapped in, to shoveling out a Honda buried in snow with a toddler safely warm inside. I’ve owned this character. I became her.

I look back at the struggles and triumphs with laughter and fight back a few tears.

The birthday parties I’ve managed to pull off seem effortless now. Countless last minute details forced me to forget something each year. Our dynamic duo costumes at Halloween have proven to be exceptional. We debuted in Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion complete with our own little black morkie. Jessie and Woody one year, Princess Leia and Darth Vader the next, one crowd favorite was his choice of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man (myself) and he was my little Ghostbuster. This past year our costumes couldn’t have been a better fit. My little superhero has no idea how he has saved me. He chose to be Wolverine, claws and facial hair, plaid and leather, and I did not feel like I had a costume on. A silvery white wig, white contacts and a black cape, of course people got it, but I feel like the person I was dressed as meant so much more to me than any person could tell. We are a team, and as Storm and Wolverine it made me realize how much I depend on the little guy.

 On this journey we have had the pleasure of meeting several amazing people who have impacted our lives.  An art instructor who fell in love with Aurum and his sweet and kind personality; a summer camp teacher with whom we’ve forged  a bond with long after the summer came to an end; and a grandmothers special connection with the little guy that adores her. The people who have crossed out paths lead me to believe that I am doing something terribly right on my solo mission.

Pride overcomes me.

Thus another year has crept up on us, but the same hope remains.

I have conquered much in these past 4 years and as he grows taller, we both grow stronger.

They say it takes a village to raise a child, maybe in our case the village means the many people who have touched us in passing, held a door open, flashed a friendly smile or simply took the time to enjoy a special moment with us, but at the end of the day it will always be JustMommyNme.