Monthly Archives: March 2017

Mar28

Love is a Verb.

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Today is my parents’ 30th wedding anniversary and, for yet another year, they won’t be doing anything to celebrate other than a nice home cooked meal….they always eat home cooked meals. Oh, & they’re going to attempt to venture out to walk some park trails with Taylor.

Understatement: I’m open about how I date, if I’m dating, past relationships, and refusing to settle. Now we get to the heart of that.

The best thing that ever happened to me was to have a child out of wedlock. You learn a lot about someone when you’re thrown off course; when obstacles are thrown at you, sometimes you learn just how incompatible you are together. And I got Evelynn out of it. (But she was never an obstacle, more like a hidden path.)

I’m not all that open talking about the details with my ex. Most people don’t know my ex didn’t want my daughter to be born, asked me three times to have an abortion. In his defense, however, I asked for his honest stance and also in his defense he at least informed me it was my body (shocker, didn’t know that) and therefore my ultimate decision (didn’t know that either). But it was always followed up with him not wanting “it” to affect our immediate future. SURPRISE: she did. For me, the better.

Most people also don’t know it was his boss who told him he needed to be there when I was to be induced early—my amniotic fluid was low and the baby wasn’t growing, we were concerned she wasn’t getting nutrients.

I don’t want a guy who bails or fails to notice when he needs to show up. I don’t want a guy who ignores me for days because he’s “busy with work” or other commitments—there’s a difference between neglect and busy. You should always show up for the people you love. Especially when they need you. No excuses.

My parents don’t have an easy marriage. Taylor puts a damper on the ability to do anything. I can only remember one date my parents have gone on in the past decade. The not getting out, the constant sacrifices, has definitely created some tension. It’d be delusional to ever believe it hasn’t or couldn’t. My mother has made a career out of caring for Taylor. Everything my parents do is with him in mind. When they had their first kid (me), they agreed they’d always put us kids first. And Taylor has greatly challenged that. They haven’t taken a vacation together in well over a decade—Taylor can’t handle it. It’s been separate vacations for years—unless you count the odd trip to hospitals: Chicago, St. Louis, Boston, Atlanta. What a vacation. But what a partnership.

Many times, my parents could have hired a caretaker but chances are Taylor wouldn’t still be with us today if they had—his care is that specific and his case is that rare. It’s not textbook and much of his diagnosis has been from my mother’s intuition, and my father telling her to follow her gut. Trust. What a friendship.

I want a guy who doesn’t flinch at struggle or leaves me in the dark when complications arise. I’m not looking for someone to take the world on with me, I’m looking for someone to take on LIFE. I want to know that if devastation strikes, we can survive on our own—we won’t take an easy out simply because it’s easy. I want to know that if our world caved in, WE would still fight to stand together. I want a partner I can trust to stick around.

So here’s to my parents: thank you for setting the bar high—after all, love is a verb.

Mar25

Rummy Queen. 

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Today’s workout was tough. Actually, it seems to have been a rough week for me, and people noticed. I’ve been in an odd funk the first few days this week; though I woke up refreshed today only to find it again this evening. And yes, it does partially have to do with dating….or lack of. 

The past few weeks of not dating were refreshing. Somewhat. I got back into fitness way more than I have been in months, migraines mostly went away, I gained some weight (all muscle), and I did the 4:50am multiple wake ups to get into the office. Basically, I kicked ass. 

But this week I realized I’m letting them win. By giving up, I’m letting it all get to me in the worst way. I might be focusing on better things but if I’m turning all guys down and refusing to date anyone because I was hurt or don’t want to face another rejection, I’m letting myself down. 
I kept thinking, what is wrong with me? 

Am I not pretty enough? (Oh god, I seriously wondered that.) 

Am I boring? (Awkward I got in the bag, I know.) 

Am I crazy? (Highly likely on that last one considering I’m willing to blog about this shit….but you can’t be a writer if you aren’t willing to be vulnerable <– best advice I was given in college.) 

Is it the single mom thing? (Okay, bye now.) 

Why do I keep going for these dudes who stand a girl up without notification–until weeks or months later–or lie about what they want? Am I such a terrible person my karma is that bad? (I thought karma and I were tight.) 

It’s not wonder: I’ve always been one to live in my head. I’m constantly thinking–I blame the writer in me. But I’ve also always had an immense belief in will power: if I was scared of dating a guy because I was scared of them hurting me, I’d tell the fear to go to hell and if I get hurt then I’d pick myself back up. That was my philosophy. It’s one thing to stop seeing someone because you’re not into them or it’s not what you’re looking for; it’s something entirely different to quit seeing someone because you’re scared of falling deeper for them, or falling at all for them, and them not returning those feelings. I’m sick of hearing the latter as the excuse told to me when guys flip a sudden switch to not see me or they stand me up. 

(But like hell I’ll quit being awesome 😉.) 

Do they think it’s believable? Is it ever? It’s like saying “I’m really scared of someone stealing all my money so I’m going to turn down the well paying career job for a less than minimum wage temporary gig.” No. Doesn’t happen. I’m calling bullshit. 

Just like I’m calling bullshit on me refusing to date. I’m dabbing. I’m open to the concept. I refuse to let this all get me, let them tear me down. I don’t lose. 

Life is one big risk, right? It’s like rummy, you don’t have to show your full hand, you don’t even have to go all in to win. But I always do and I always win–that’s why they call me the rummy queen.

Mar18

Green Grass.

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Recently I was informed, again, how “easy” my life is and how lucky I am. Usually I can shrug off these comments but this is a week where I’m just not in the mood to accept idle judgments.

Let’s get one thing straight: I am lucky but my life only appears easy because I have great people in my corner and I have an unbeatable will power.

I don’t think there’s a single person on this earth who has had it “easy.” They may deny tragedy or refuse to face hardships, but everyone at some point has faced a battle we likely know nothing about.

Robin Williams made millions laugh but committed suicide.

My brother lies in a hospital bed but we’ve never heard him moan or scream or cry.

There are two sides to the coin of life, some of us wear tragedies on our sleeves while others hide them behind steel doors.

It’s true, I have it easy with my mom providing daycare but reality is I couldn’t afford daycare if she weren’t able to do so. And it makes it harder to go out to see friends or go out on a date or even go to the gym because that’s just more time my mom is watching Evelynn. (Not to mention that’s more time away from Evelynn.)

It’s also true how I have it easy not having to pay for rent or a mortgage. Trust me when I say if Evelynn could live within city water limits I would rent my own place or if I had the finances to finagle purchasing a home, I’d jump on the opportunity in a heartbeat. There is nothing exciting about being 27 years old and living in your childhood bedroom—it’s a shot to your independence and ego. (& it really improves my dating life–we’re not even going to go there in this blog.) But racking up debt or making my daughter bathe in chlorinated water is not in her best interest—everything I do is done with my daughter in mind.

It’s also very true that my boss is understanding and supportive of my situation to allow me to work from home whenever I want. I don’t have set office hours. I choose to make it into the office 3-4 days a week and work long hours so I can work a “normal” day from home the rest of the week. (Let’s not get me started on my commute, one reason I want to move.) Evelynn hates these hours. On working from home days, she likely lays in my bed next to me while watching a movie or playing with puzzles. She doesn’t leave my side. She even eats her lunch in my bedroom sometimes. Good thing she knows to behave so I can work or she gets booted.

It’s also so very true I’m skinny (dear lord I hate that term, it’s derogatory). I used to be about 20 pounds heavier, give or take depending on the day, but I’m not proud of how I lost it—from a difficult pregnancy not hard work in the gym. I’ve had a hard time gaining muscle back. I don’t overeat and I eat about 85% healthy—no artificials, no preservatives, mostly veggies—and that’s how I stay….skinny.

It’s also so very unbelievably true that my daughter is fucking sunshine, but her father and I don’t have a good relationship and I’ve dealt with plenty of snide comments from “friends” who thought they knew the story between the two of us. They don’t—I’m not the type to gossip. There are very few people I confide in, for others they must pull teeth. I have to deal with recognizing this will likely always be the case.

There is nothing easy about being the one who holds your daughter’s stars and feeling like you let her world crumble just because you must leave for work or you just need to get in the shower or you’re not there when she wakes up. It breaks my heart that she can be with me uninterrupted for an entire day and still will not let me use the bathroom alone. “Mommy is coming right back” doesn’t work. We do distractions—a movie in my bed, a couple m&m’s, a snack in her uncle Tay’s room, a diaper change, etc.—for me to be able to sneak out of the house or into the shower without a meltdown. Half the week she sleeps in my bed. And on those nights, she throws a fit to sleep on the outside of my bed (it’s flush to the wall) as if to barricade me in.

It’s not even a little bit easy.

I’ll never understand parents who WANT their child to be sad over them leaving or walking away. Who purposefully instigate a negative reaction just to make themselves feel wanted or to boost their own ego.

I want Evelynn to be independent enough to know she will be okay and that I’ll come back. I love how she loves me…I don’t love how I can’t be there whenever she wants me. The doctor warned me of the clingy stage but that doesn’t make it easier.

I got lucky in my will power to stand up and fight for what I want in my life, and for those in my corner: parents that will watch my kid so I can work and not have 60 percent of my paycheck go to daycare; a boss who, if I tell him I’m offline Friday mornings because it’s Operation Evelynn Social (a weekly playgroup), accepts my kid is my number one priority; & a daughter who brings the sun.

I won’t deny the luck—I don’t want to.

But I have never met a single person who has had an easy life. And if they do, it’s because they were determined to make it that way.

My life is “easy” because I have an indomitable will to make it the best life I could have ever lived—I water my own damn green grass.