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.

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.