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. 

Life exhaustion

I'm tired. 

Scared, lonely and tired. 

Best combination ever. 

There was this huge clinging to summer sadness and what September meant to my life. 

The simple part of me thought CRAP, no more beach days, no more swimming or open toe teva wearing days. I mean I could prolong and add socks right, very fashion forward. 

Now it's mid September or late September which means October is knocking at my door but I'm not ready. 

I just handed in the kids school supplies and the list was still missing a few items. 

I had a moment of being overwhelmed the other day. 

It happened at Walmart of all fucking places.

On the hunt for marble composition notebooks and not the $2.49 kind there were boxes of at staples. With 8 notebooks on the 2nd graders supply list I knew I had to find a bargain. In June most if not all of them were returned home after the school year barely used, I resisted the urge to recycle. 

To my surprise people did this kind it thing way prior and were actually prepared for September, I must've missed the memo while at the beach. 

Walmart sold out.

Target sold out.

Me overwhelmed. 

I had 19 text messages on my phone. 

The kid at my side asking me for Star Wars whatever that was not on the list and the madness of Walmart made me think the world was ending the way people scurried around the "super center".

What was going on? 

I fought back the tears and thoughts and took a deep breath. 

I paid for my shit and got he hell out of there. 

I managed to turned my phone back on when the feeling of being overwhelmed was gone. I also needed the gps on it to get back home. 

I remember being tired. 

Not physically. 

Just tired.

Tired of it all.

Tired of the responsibility of EVERYTHING.

ALL. the. time.

School supplies

Electric bill

Laundry 

School lunch

Healthy school lunch

Snack 

Extra snack for after school 

The blue card, oh the dreaded blue card as if the school didn't already have ours from last year on file.

The doctors form

Clean uniform pants

Clean uniform shirt

Water bottle 

Lunch bag 

Book bag 

Dog food 

Cat liter

Tired of it all.

What do I do?

Who can I share some of this responsibility with? 

No one - harsh reality 

I smile. 

The kid is happy regardless.

We get through the second week of school.

Walmart ain't that bad.

Monday drop off was ok.

I managed to make it to yoga. 

I had a good morning.

Next up, laundry.  

Check.

My stomach growls reminding me of the coffee I had for breakfast. 

I should eat. 

I go to turn on the oven.

Gas is off.

Shit.

Had I forgotten to pay the gas bill? 

Not possible. 

Odds are that's a huge possibility.

I call the gas company and of course I did.

Hold your shit together.

You are human.

The operator said. 

Only she didn't say that. 

She said someone could come out and turn it on tomorrow evening between 6 and10pm. 

The cold shower felt surprisingly worse than I had ever imagined but I was grateful for the ice cold running water nonetheless.

Some people don't even have that. 

Tomorrow I'd take a hot shower. 

Great!

What else could I do but say great! 

My go to word these days.

I'm tired.

The kind of tired that needs help.

The tired of doing it all on my own.

How did I get here.

I swear I made good choices.

I replay them all the time.

I feel sad for both of us.

The kid deserves more.

He needs more.

He doesn't even know what more is.

I know I'm his everything.

I know I can't be tired.

And then she's back.

And I say fuck this! 

I love my life.

Tuesday night 9pmish the gas is on.

I take a nice long hot shower put my cloak back on and kiss the kid good night.

God I'm a lucky girl. 

Lucky no. 7

Seven is a lucky number.

When I think of the number seven, it's so simple. Childhood is simple. 

Yet the past seven years of raising the kid could not have been more complicated. When I used to hear parents vent about how fast their children have grown I kinda eye rolled. It couldn't possibly fly by especially since it's so hard, yet here we are seven years later. 

He's seven years old. 

Shit.

What the hell happened? 

Why did his happen? 

There's nothing like a growing child to remind you how quickly time can pass.

I get sad. 

I tear up.

The sort of happy cry knowing that I did it. 

I can do this shit with my eyes closed. The simultaneous cry knowing things have changed but in reality stayed the same.

Its human nature to put a timeline on life. As children our parents did it to us and they called it "a milestone", as we grew older we did it to ourselves, from preteen to teenage, 18 to party 21 to drink and then 25 rolls around and you're still safe but once 30 does you start to question where the hell all the years went and what did you spend them doing.

I almost immediately gave myself a timeline. 

To say I'd meet someone,  hit it off, date, travel, cohabitate, possibly marry - or not- have another child is just plain dumb. 

Life doesn't work that way.

I guess the entire part of my life changing is correct. It drastically changed. I woke up one day and had a seven year old, at least that's how it feels. 

The part of the inevitable change is still happening. 

I thought maybe the solo parenting mission part would be different.

All hope was lost with co parenting w the biological but that's an entirely different journey. 

Now the happy cry is back.

I look at the kid.

He is amazing.

He is thoughtful.

He is kind.

He likes to share his bagel with me. 

He values friendship and family. 

He has passions.

He has an imagination.

The way he high fives his teacher at school pick up when he sees me waiting makes my tears happy ones. 

And then I ask myself why the fuck are you crying? 

You have a good life.

What did I do to deserve such a good life? 

Lucky number 7 is a great sign of not wanting things to change for the sake of adapting but the adaptation of the life I have and making it the absolute best. 

The unanswerable

The kid: mommy which ring did you get married with (fathers name)? 

Me: none

The kid: yes you did because how come (fathers name) is my daddy

Me:😳

A few seconds of silence as the robot mommy me comes back to reality from bedtime routine mode...followed by a quick brush off since it was time to brush his teeth. 

Response in my head: whatttttt the fuck! why are you asking me so many difficult questions I don't have the answers to!!! You're 6 yrs old!!!! Cmon!!! 

And then I paused and stared at myself in the mirror for a few seconds and thought "crap" we were never married. We were together for four years though. Four long years of my life that I will never get back should count for something. 

And the consolation prize is....

(How) do I explain that to the kid. 

Yes technically being married would've been nice and having a story would've been nice and having a magical supposed fairy tale would've been nice too but the truth is we were not married. 

It's ok. 

We were not married.

We were committed. 

We did live together.

Does that make our relationship any less 

Of a relationship? 

I don't think so but, what does a 6 yr old think?

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.

Dating 101: Part 1

Don't. 

To be continued.....

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.

family dynamic

I always thought it would be my own thoughts, views, beliefs and opinions that would be the source of my sons teaching.
Speaking with other parents and understanding different views on family dynamic did not change my opinion that opposed the idea that school aged children are subjected to uncontrollable views.
Pre Kindergarten is such a ripe age for education.
Physical activity is huge while teaching lessons also extremely valuable.
When we started receiving homework assignments, I was very excited.
It gave me a look inside what the actual learning was and the lessons that were being taught in class. I was eager to aid in his learning.
The first assignment was coloring and tracing shapes and the letter S.
The second was about family.
I hesitated.
The remembered a good friend of mine going through a similar exercise in a doctors office.
Her son was asked by the doctor to draw his family.
He drew his mom, he drew his brother, and he drew himself.
The doctor asked about his father and then the conversation started to flow.
Imagine my fear.
A fear I have yet to confront.
An explanation I have yet to give my little monster, who is growing at the speed of a very well planted seed.
An absent father who has yet to appear.
As we completed the homework assignment, I read the instructions aloud, prepared to explain the plethora of blended families there are, but I didn't have to.
 
"Draw your family in the house, do you know who is part of your family?''
 Yes Mommy.
 "mommy, me, Jakey (cousin), grandma, Chris(step grandpa) and auntie''

I breathed a sigh if relief.

He seemed happy.
He drew smiles on everyone.
He drew hair. 
And he wrote the names of each person as I told him.

Never mentioning, questioning, or simply including his father.
Should I have?

Part of me thought I should say, what about Papi?
If that door of memory is slowly closing, why should I stick my foot in and hold it open.

The other part of me quietly shouted, YES!!!!!

Selfish? maybe.
But hoping that I may not have to deal with this much longer and he's forgetting his father on his own by his fathers own doing.
Yet another ounce of me thinks I should have a conversation with him and honestly tell him I don't know what happened to his father.

Fear wins.

His family dynamic consists of so much love that he had to draw people outside of the house and that is explanation enough for me.

Dating and the Bull shit detector.

A recent date lead me to believe I am through with dating.

 Don’t get me wrong it was a great date.

The guy was a charmer, a perfect gentleman and held my interest in more ways than one. But the time and energy it took out of me makes me want to continue my life as a single mom. My evenings usually consist of making dinner for my son and I, having bath time then bed time then me time. Do I risk the life I’ve become so accustomed to for the life I so secretly crave?

SINGLE is and always seemed to be a temporary for me. Dating on the other hand I haven’t done serious enough since my son was born. In the beginning I thought I’d be a single mom for a year or so then I’d meet this fabulous man, fall in love, he’d love my son as his own and then we’d walk off into the sunset and work on extending our cute little blended family.

 Newsflash, it didn’t quite work out that way.

I did think I came close once. I met this fab man who had himself grown up with a step dad since the age of 2, JACKPOT. 

Turns out he was just not there altogether and I was back to square one.

Fast forward 4 years later, I am an independent, self sufficient single mom who hasn’t really dated at all but more importantly has become more of a woman in her own right.

          I do it all.

When I think of “dates” I’ve been on in the past 4 years I can count them on one hand. I’m the type that does not pursue but rather succumbs to the pursuer if the interest is there. 

So back to this one date, I had an amazing time but I also realized how much I have changed since the last time I’ve dated as well as how much the dating game has.

There I was sitting across from a man that I seemed completely interested in and wanted to know everything about. In the days to follow we kept in touch and even had a second date. Communication was there almost daily and I seemed to be loving it. To my surprise things came to a screeching halt within 2-3 months and I was not as irritated by it as I thought I’d be.

The adult independent me didn’t care. Life goes on, right?

For the most part, the woman I had become did not care to deal with bs. 

Honesty had become a trait of this woman, and she gained a bull shit detector.

Back to me and my life as a single mom, this meant not losing sleep, guilt over leaving my kid with a sitter while I went on a date, and not having someone on my mind. Simple.

In my somewhat twisted mind I was relieved. Screw it.

It’s like a weight was lifted.

The truth is I did like him. I did like text messages and calls from someone other than my mom and my sister. I also liked that he was kind of a secret. One thing I’ve learned as a single mom is to keep my dating life guarded. Everyone is waiting to see me settle or date or bring someone other than a girl friend around.  It honestly can’t happen, the explanation of what happened if it did not work requires way too much energy. So secrets are good in that aspect.

I liked the attention. I liked him as a person. I liked his conversation and support.

But I am guarded.

I have had this conversation with girlfriends time and time again, I am going to need one hell of a man to fill the void I have already managed to fill on my own.

And my detector lets me know whether or not I care enough to deal with someone that is not serious about  me.

The fact that I have this bull shit detector will weed out a lot of phonies, but the possibility of it eliminating one of the good ones is a chance I'll just have to take.

from Ariel to Dora

Pink is for girls.
Blue is for boys.

Or at least that is what society teaches us to teach our children.

When a woman finds out she is pregnant with a girl, her baby shower will be decorated pink and with a boy blue.
I must admit, my shower was a blue/green/yellow color scheme. This was solely because that was the day I found out I was having a boy.
Why can’t boys like pink and girls like blue? Is it because we teach them the exact opposite?
I recently started to notice, and by notice it’s been mainly through other people’s reactions that my little boy loves it all.
Since he started learning his colors, the two that he would consistently point out were pink and purple.
All the other colors came after but I thought nothing of it, just that he loves pink and purple and knows those two colors.
We recently watched the little mermaid, and he loved it. So much that he asked for an Ariel.
Since we had already been making weekly trips to the Disney store, I knew exactly where to find her.
She was his new found love and he wanted to take her everywhere, on subway rides, to the playground and by his side in bed as he fell asleep.
One thing I was immediately cautious about was him taking Ariel along with him on his weekend visits with his dad. I took precaution by suggesting he take another toy that was as cool as she is.
Most of the time his mind was already made up and he always decided to leave her home. The week following one of his visits he mentioned in a very mature 3 year old way, that his dad had made him sad. He explained that his dad told him to throw Ariel (who he refers to as Mario) in the trash.

In my mind I knew I couldn’t react the way I wanted to, for his sake I had to keep cool. As he stood there his little frustrated angry face waiting for my reaction, my mind raced. I knew I had been careful and I knew for a fact that he had never taken Mario with him. But how else did his dad know about her?

The only conclusion I could reach was that my little boy loves his Mario so much that he shared that with his dad, only to find out that his dad did not love the thought of it.   
In one of my strongest single mommy moments, I simply told him that boys and girls like Mario and it is a yeco (translation: muneca) that everyone can play with.  

He was reassured, I think.

But I also made sure to tell him that mommy said it is ok and if his dad has a problem with it then he should talk to mommy.

Then I made him repeat it.

And then he promised to say it if his dad ever told him to throw Mario away.

But that’s not where it ended, on a recent  early morning subway ride, I was once again reminded of society’s rules.

As Aurum sat in his stroller, Mario in tow, I heard a stranger’s voice.
I refused to look up but rather ignored the comment and kept my composure.
“A boy? .…why does he have a doll, dolls are for girls…
I felt a reaction crawling up my throat to scream out of my mouth but I fought it back, patiently waited for our stop and hoped that my innocent little boy holding the little mermaid did not hear.

What do you do?

As a parent, if your child is threatened in any way, you rise up and protect them!! In any circumstance you stick up for your kid!

I never realized by fulfilling my sons wish of having Ariel that I would spark this fire inside people starting a battle over the innocence of a child vs. the role society plays in our lives.
Am I wrong in the eyes of machismo dads and men who believe that boys should not play with dolls?
Or am I teaching my son the value of being an individual, having choices and marching to the beat of his own drum?

I’ve concluded that people will always have opinions of their own, and right now that is what I will teach my son. His opinion matters and until he is old enough to defend it he is to tell people to talk to his mommy about it.

I am proud to say nothing has stopped him from playing with Mario; he loves her nonetheless since the day he got her.

He also recently asked for a Dora plush pillow from Target, and he carries her along with him from time to time.

In need of some support....

Raising a child has never been a cakewalk and the adolescent years can definitely try your patience. Personally the most difficult thing I've ever had to encounter is parenting a teen facing mental illness.Since her birth in 1998 I have assisted my mother with           co-parenting my younger sister, "AJ".

Even as a little kid my sister's behaviors have always been a little "out there" with her extended temper tantrums and/or outbursts towards the family. My mom and I didn't realize what we had on our hands until she started acting out violently against her classmates in school. Her teachers suggested she had ADD/ADHD based on her disconnect while in the classroom but I wasn't too sure given the behaviors I had witnessed in the home. In 2009 after much prodding on my end the school district and her pediatrician finally conducted a series of evaluations which resulted in her being diagnosed with mood disorders. In less than a year that diagnosis was changed to bipolar and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and then to bipolar schizophrenia, PTSD and depression in 2011.

I am not sure whether having a "label" attached to her helped or hindered us. Over the years I've worked with hundred of kids and have come across many different diagnosis and behaviors but nothing quite prepares you for when it is your child. No matter how hands-on you are in your professional field nothing prepares you for your flesh and blood screaming obscenities at you, launching lamps and other items at your head, and/or charging at you full force.

We have plenty of days when we can manage peacefully, but there's a greater amount of days when we can't tell which way is up. There are so many moments when my mother and I feel completely alone as no one else in the family truly understands my sister's illness or, quite frankly, don't care to be bothered. I'm not sure where this journey will lead us but I am not ashamed to admit that I am seriously afraid and in need of some support.

TSJ

Guest blogger TSJ is a STRONG woman. She is a mother figure for her own sister and a great source of support to her mother. An editor, literary analyst and self proclaimed bibliophile, are among many victories she has achieved thus far.

He left me to raise HIS son...

He left me to raise HIS son... I will say that again. He left me to raise HIS son.

Now yes, I know it is our son and this child is just as much my son as it is his. BUT I say HIS because it is HIS responsibility to raise his son to be a man. Not me a woman and NOT another man but the man who created him. It is his responsibility to teach him how to grow up from a boy to a man. As single mothers many of us try to ease the blow of raising a child on our own by constantly telling ourselves if we do more by over compensating and pushing ourselves we can be both mother and father... but the reality is we can't!

It is scientific fact that a child grows up to be a better and more efficient contributor to society if they come from a home with both parents. Now this is not to say I won't move heaven and hell to make sure my boy is well rounded but unless his father comes around I am sure there are certain things I am going to struggle with. That is a fact that I have no problem acknowledging and accepting. Things like potty training. Ok. It isn't that bad nor the end of the world, but just like I needed my mom to teach me about a young girl's/woman's body, he will need his father. And I highly doubt he will want to discuss wet dreams with me. Now I will try my best to have open communication with him where he can come to me about anything but I highly doubt he will. I remember when I got my first menstrual cycle and I was with my dad. I was sssoooo embarrassed to tell him and couldn't wait to get home for my mom to walk me through it. It was something about the familiarity of my own sex that helped and I am sure that is the case for others. Just like there are life lessons only a mother can teach, there are those only a father/man can as well.

So in closing, I raise my boy the best way a woman can. I try not to be overzealous because I know it is not that I am falling short but rather I am doing the best one person can do while doing a two person job!

CSR

Guest blogger CSR is an amazing single mother of two boys and a successful independent business owner. 

Ughhh yet another Valentine’s Day

Ever since I became a mom, almost 3 years ago, (not counting being prego) I have not had a Valentine over the age of 2.

Yes, very sweet but also lonely.

This year I decided to make it an awesome occupied fun day with me and the little man.

                                                                                                                                                                           It started off with a bribe that went something like this:

Me: Hey Aur do you want to be my Valentine?

My Valentine: No mommy, no Valentine!

Me: Ok are you sure?  Cuz you will get to eat chocolate….

My Valentine: Yes mommy, I want chocolate!

Me: So do you want to be my Valentine???

My Valentine: I want chocolate.

Me: Ok good enough.

After bribe#1 scored me a Valentine, with bribe #2 I managed to get an empty plate for breakfast and lunch, if only I could get everything I wanted with the promise of chocolate.

Laundry was first on the list of Vday fun….lucky for me my Valentine loves doing laundry.

He is obsessed with the gum ball machine and of course tries to get only purple gum balls.

This time he bugged for more quarters than usual, after giving him 2 dollars I was at my limit.

Of course being the little boy that he is, he pulls his own dollar out of his coat pocket and asks me for change.

One thing about this little boy is Valentine or not he always makes sure, no matter what it is, that he gets “mommy one”.

After using most of his change for gum he decides to use a different machine and got a cute little ring for himself. He then insists on getting me one, but all I could think was him losing his quarter and being upset because he couldn’t get me one. But to my surprise he did…………………………

….and I couldn’t have been a happier mommy.

The day I kinda sorta dreaded really did turn out to be ok.

We spent the rest of the day at a routine checkup for him followed by a please don’t cry when they give you this shot and I will buy you a toy bribe, and then back home for his valentine day chocolates.

All in all the best darn Vday a single mommy could ask for!

  

in love

Have you ever just loved something so much you thought your heart would burst right out from your chest?

That’s how I feel about my little boy.
He's one amazing little boy.

I am aware that people may say I am a crazy obsessed wacko mom after they read this and I agree, but I am totally in love with being this little boy’s mother.

I don’t know whether it is being a single mom that makes me feel this way. I have him all to myself, except for those eight hours a week he goes with his father. I get to wake up to his silly face pushing me out of my bed asking for his morning milk. I get to watch him try to convince me that should brush his teeth instead of me doing it. I get to watch him be a rock star in training and go back and forth between playing the drums, and singing into the mic, then picking up his guitar right before he picks up his keyboard then right back to the drums.
I get to hear the crazy stories he tells, some of what may still take a few times before I can fully understand. I get to see his excited face when he discovers his motorized Percy the train not only moves on the track but can move along the bare floor down the hall. As he runs from Percy I get to watch him and just be his mommy.

From the moment he was born it has been "just us", and I have grown somewhat used to that.
I think there something about a single parent that allows us to enjoy our children more since we are the sole parent on a day to day basis.
Sometimes I watch him as he sleeps, of course when he catches me in my day dreams when he's awake he yells" stop looking me", so from time to time I have to sneak my little stares in when he isn’t looking.

I miss him when he's gone and can't wait until he's back in my arms again.
Sometimes I think in the back of my mind I knew I was born to be a parent since I always did want kids, but I definitely knew I was born to be this little boy’s mommy.

And it was so ordered.....

So since last year I really have gone through A LOT. This post is really special to me since although I have already opened up by deciding to write about my experiences, this makes it even that more personal.

When two people are married there seems to be a type of security in your life. You feel like you can never go alone or without shall I say. When you have children, there's more help and the possibility of being together forever increases, but even those "happy endings" do not always exist. In my case I didn't sign a marriage certificate nor did I get married but it does not mean my relationship was destined to be doomed from the start. I have always been a single mom. From the moment I saw the plus sign my "partner" did not agree with my decision to have my son. Of course things change along the road but the point is that I choose this life and all that comes with it. Never in a gazillion years would I have thought I would have to fight for my boy.

Throughout his first year, his father was gone. He joined the military and was sent away until around his first birthday. When he returned he came around a few times usually in the evenings when my boy was ready for bed, and never visited on the weekends. When he decided that he wanted to come around more often he wanted to pick my son up from the sitter. I was totally against this. My disagreement came from him not knowing or ever spending time alone with my son. He was about a little over a year, so I suggested he come around more often and visit with him and get to know him and then by all means yes he could pick him up. This caused a halt in the financial support he had been providing and led the court to intervene, and in turn he petitioned me for visitation.

It started out with supervised visits. In the beginning the magistrate that was assigned to our case was very understanding of the situation. She ordered supervised visits in which I was to stay with my son while he visited with his father every Saturday and Sunday for a few hours. The very next court date, he somehow managed to get a lawyer and he was given unsupervised visits.

I was hysterical.

In the courtroom my emotions were shown and I was told to stop the melodrama. I simply could not allow my son to go with this stranger he didn’t know, a man who had never changed a diaper nor had the slightest clue as what to do with a baby. So I did what any mother would do, I packed up my son every day of the court ordered scheduled visit and we went somewhere fun for that duration of the day. Of course in my heart I knew it was not right, but I also was not comfortable with my son being in the hands of an inexperienced person at such a young age.

The follow up court date I asked for a lawyer and got one. Soon after I allowed my son to go with his father unsupervised and prayed that he would be ok. On several occasions he came with a soiled diaper, one I distinctly remember was on a cold winter evening, he was soaked through his diaper, thermal pants and jeans. Again I was furious but had to hold my case and build it for the next court date. This led me to stronger oppose my son going with his father overnight.

The final court date I am speaking to my lawyer and going over all the incidents that had occurred over the past visitations and his lawyer comes over. Turns out he has decided he only wants one day a weekend from 10am-7pm. A little relieved but also floored at how unparentlike his decision was, I agree. After numerous court dates, adjournments and lawyers involved, it is over.

As of now, he visits with my son the same one day a weekend for the 8 hours he desired. Every weekend it’s the same situation, kicking screaming and crying my son is pried from my arms or I try to assure him he will be ok and tell him a little white lie that mommy is going too. I have become a little better at hiding my hurt as he leaves but it’s partly because I know that I need my time away from him since I continue to be this single mom taking on more than half of the responsibility of raising MY son.

2 years strong and counting

I'm proud of myself, 2 years on my own and I have accomplished so much.
Yes, I’ve had to depend on family a little but for the most part I have been on my own.
Raising my little man all by myself.
How do you know you're raising a child right…well, he does say "pease" and "tank u" but how will I know that's enough.
He reaches out to mom-mee for so much, for EVERYTHING..after all I'm all he's got, been here since day one.

And I'm not going anywhere.

more to come

When I started this it was supposed to be a more frequent thing. Looking back at the archive list on my page it sux that I have only written one post this year. Yes and here comes December strolling along, so sad. I guess mommy-hood has got me caught up or the fact that my college days of procrastination are still in me. I do plan to write more I promise. I am still juggling being a mom period let alone with the word single in front of it. A lot has happened and I keep it all in my head. It sure does have a lot to do with raising my boy on my own. I find I have no time for anything anymore. I recently vowed to make time, more time for everything, family,friends, me time and especially more time for little me and my pet family!
Stay tuned for more.....

I dont know why but I just do....

I have a very special place in my life for my ex...dont know whether this is good or bad. Of course or at least at the moment I think he will always have a special place in my heart. I went through it. I couldn't stand him and I said I hated him. These things may still be true but I think I am in such a different place in my life that I hardly even care anymore. So lately we have been speaking on a daily basis again, for those of you that do not know this, he is a marine and was deployed out of state. For the most part this didn't affect me since we were already over before he left but I did want him to be a part of my little boys life.
A little history...he has always been about other ppl, whenever it concerned someone else it was his priority...so now going through so many changes right, becoming a dad, experience in the marines and away from home....you think the dumbass would change??? NOPE
Its really funny in a way...everyone including his parents said he would change..whats funny is I was the biggest skeptic.
He proved me right.
Doesn't come see his son and when he did its it within a 2 week time period and the visit lasted no more than an hour or so.
In a way I still have hope, I know I am a fool to believe it can work. I look at him sometimes and I miss the way we were. I miss his touch, his laugh, the way he looked after me...dont get me wrong there were bad times hence the breakup...but I do love him, I think.
I can't stand him, but part of me wants him...I dont know why but I just do...

The last day of the year....

Here we are 2010!! I can hardly believe it. So many changes have taken place this year. God has blessed me so good and although rough times and struggles are still ahead I know that he will continue to bless me. This will definitely be my year. To all my single mommys, when the days seem too short yet the weeks seem too long and you wish you had just 1 more arm to help carry you're ever growing bundle of joy up those stairs....just stop, take a breath and thank God...know that we are all out here and in this together!