Category Archives: Parenthood

Jan30

Single Mom Status Null.

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Single parenting doesn’t really hit you until you’re sick and convinced you’re on your death bed and want everything to disappear. When the only route you want to take is from the bed to the bathroom and back to bed. When you’re a single parent, there’s constant detours and the bed often turns into whichever floor of the room your child is playing in. There’s no sleeping in or going to bed early or naps during the day. It’s just a little shut eye here and there if you’re lucky—dependent on your child’s age.

I’m adamant about parenting not being defined by status but solely the child. I told myself from day one it’s not harder for me because I’m a single parent with 100% custody. I have the same qualifications. I will not be held back. My relationship status doesn’t determine how capable I am of being a great mom. My kid doesn’t suffer from it. It’s 2019 after all. The traditional family dynamics have changed, afterall.

Similarly, being a single mom alone doesn’t make me a super mom. There are plenty of parents who perform the role alone in marriage. Some stay at home and dedicate their entire lives to their children. Simply because I’m a career woman and a single mom does not put me on some higher-level ground. I’ve always hated this thinking. Yet, it’s too common.

My status is simply my circumstance. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t define Evelynn. It certainly doesn’t define other parents.

Let me repeat that: one parent’s circumstance doesn’t define how great of a parent they are, and it doesn’t define how they compare to another parent.

I’m a firm believer that parenting is based on how you love your kid and how you prioritize them. It’s where they hold a place in your heart & in your mind. It’s how being a parent plays a role in making decisions. Money, relationship status, sexuality—none of that matters in defining someone as a parent.

But damn is it hard not to think of the difference when Evelynn or I am sick.

There’s no option to negotiate who will stay home with Evelynn when she’s sick. There’s no someone staying home with her while the other runs to the pharmacy to pick up cold meds. When the thermometer broke on me once, I thought I was going to have a meltdown. The idea of bundling the sick little girl up to weather the cold so I could pick up a new thermometer and more meds was agonizing.

There’s no partner to care for her and take on the role entirely so I can just “rest up” like the doctor ordered because that’s the best cure for any sickness. No, there’s puking outside my car door so I can get Evelynn to pre-K, setting 9 alarms so I don’t miss anything, and taking more sick days than one is likely allotted & fingers crossed my boss is understanding, & working from home when sick or late into the night to make up for everything. I got lucky with that, pursuing a career I can manage from home when demanded has helped tremendously.

I’ve been single for awhile and it never bothers me until I become very ill. I suddenly want to cuddle and watch Harry Potter, Law & Order, or Friends marathons on repeat; need someone to wash my hair because my arms aren’t lifting that high up; have someone run out to grab me meds and Coke because I hate keeping artificial beverages stocked in the home; and have someone make me soup because I’ll be cutting my nails off if I’m given a knife when sick—I get these severe shakes when under the weather.

Basically, for being stubbornly independent, I might as well tattoo “Needy AF” on my forehead when ill.

I tell myself being a single parent doesn’t make parenting any harder, more rewarding, or less stable than if I were to have someone by my side. Truth is, though, I missed an entire week of work due to Evelynn being sick and then me, and now schools are closed because of the weather. Some days it’s difficult to believe the notion single parenting is simply parenting.

I might be the first to label myself as a single mom because I am doing it—parenting alone—and I love breaking labels but parenting is parenting no matter how you status yourself.

 

Nov25

Gaining Pieces.

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I don’t know how to date anymore. I don’t know how to open myself up to someone. More accurately, I don’t know how to let someone in.

I lost pieces of me, each guy taking a small enough piece of me for me to never notice until the other night when I was on a date and I realized I don’t know how to do this.

The reality: I don’t know if I want to date.

Confidence: that was the last piece taken from me. What can this guy possibly see in me to make him choose me.

I don’t easily lack confidence. I know who I am, I like my body, I’m happy with my health, I know I’m good at my job, I know I’m a great mother, I’m comfortable with who I am. I can look at the woman in the mirror and applaud her instead of pick her apart. I am confident with who I am.

I am not confident when it comes to guys wanting me or feeling like I’m enough for someone.

I get asked out a lot and I don’t say yes to many guys. Most guys I turn down will ask me, “Why not just give me one chance? I could turn out to be the one who makes you happy.” They seem to think they can like me enough to make me like them, they can persuade me into liking them. I don’t want someone to have to talk me into liking them, it doesn’t feel genuine and I highly suspect it will lead to doubt and insecurity on their end later on in the relationship. Many guys accuse me of being shallow, that it’s all about looks as to why I’m turning them down. It has nothing to do with body or status.

It’s this magnetism. I hate admitting it’s the knowledge that I’d feel no different if they had never come around. I don’t get excited to tell them big news, I don’t wonder how their day went, I don’t ask them if they want to hang out. That lack of enthusiasm is why I say no.

I remember before Evelynn came along being asked why I could simply forget guys so easily after they betrayed or lied to me; and to me, it was because it was that simple: if they didn’t want me, I didn’t want them. If they couldn’t respect me, I didn’t want them. If I wasn’t enough to be the only girl they saw, I didn’t want them. There was no room for “buts” in there. The philosophy still applied even after Evelynn.

Then I met a guy when I didn’t care, when my guard was down, and I let him just walk right into my life with no reservations. I didn’t plan for him to stick around. He wasn’t meant to be anyone other than just a one-night stand. The rules were simple. I didn’t care what I told him or what he thought of me. I didn’t care if he saw the real me and rejected me because I wasn’t planning on him staying around.

He had other ideas.

& I let him talk me into more than just one-night expectations. I let him talk me into seeing him again.

We didn’t see each other again. He met someone else soon after and it turned out him getting me to want him was just a game to him. All the talking and texting and planning after was just to feed his ego. At the time he had told me he met someone randomly, immediately after me, and they just clicked like nothing else. It wasn’t until recently that I found out it was also all just a game to him. That’s what he said at least.

I know what you’re thinking: stupid, stupid girl. He was kryptonite, though. Where everything you find attractive is in one person and you’re just like damn. Which is why it was to be just one night, I knew I could fall hard and fast…and we’ve already discussed in previous blogs, I’m not one to fall, especially not fast. I never have. And I wasn’t ready to let someone invade my life just yet after I was still dealing with a toddler hung up on the last guy I had seen. I already had hang-ups about dating.

And before you go getting all high and mighty on me for having a one night as a single mom. Well, I’m a single mom. I’m pretty sure I somehow made the first move on him (apparently my “tinder eyes” do work). And this isn’t a common occurrence. However, sometimes, just sometimes, you need to do things for you and that day I decided to live in the moment and fuck the future—no pun intended.

I had no intention of having anything with him but he pursued and I gave in. I can’t get over that. How I could get it so wrong—fucking kryptonite. It’s a mindfuck when people purposefully fuck with your emotions like that, though. That’s where the pain and second-guessing came in. & this wasn’t the first time I had it wrong. This was just months after I had it wrong and that first time, Evelynn was caught in the crossfire.

In early September, Evelynn and I did a weekend road trip out to Lake Michigan—we hadn’t been to the beach yet over the summer—and we saw a couple friends on our way back through Grand Rapids…and we ran into the guy she still sometimes asks about. He didn’t acknowledge her, and what little respect I had left for him disappeared. Her demeanor fell. She was tired, hungry, but her shoulders and face fell. It was like a cloud completely washed over her. She looked down and got busy with a napkin and never looked up. He never said hi to her; this little girl who would beg to go to his house or didn’t want to leave after weekends spent there just less than a year before.

I didn’t think my heart could break more watching her.

Until we left to drive home.

I heard crying in the back seat, then, “Augie no like me. Augie no say hi to me.” She cried herself to sleep. Luckily, in less than five minutes but I couldn’t believe it. All hope of that cloud in the restaurant just being her overtired from the long weekend: shot. All hope that she didn’t really remember him because she was only 3 at the time: gone. All hope that whenever she had asked to go to “Augie’s house” or to see him again that she didn’t know who she was really talking about and just throwing a random name out there because she was only 3 at the time: dead. She remembered exactly who he was.

I came home lost to the dating scene. I had no interest in bringing a guy around Evelynn. I had no interest in bringing a single father and his daughter around Evelynn.

I had no interest.

I stopped trying. I stayed off dating sites. I ignored guys when they asked or it was always a no. Until a few weeks ago when I said yes to a guy, a really great guy with attractive qualities, and I couldn’t stop thinking about just how fucked up dating is in 2018. Or maybe it’s just me. I couldn’t stop wondering how much was an act, how much was genuine, how much interest did he really have?

Pathetic. I have a hard time jumping on the bandwagon of making guys prove just how much they want or like me before I show them any interest—that’s been the advice I’ve been given over the last couple years. Feels like a game to me then. I hate the whole “hard to get” attitudes. I’m not a fucking mouse for you to chase. You’re either in or you’re out. You either like me or you don’t. Magnetism. Mutual magnetism.

Lucky for me I’m still that bounce back queen. I know exactly who I am. It’s been a month—I’m over the pessimism. I won’t lie, that feeling I had that one day: hell yeah I’m going to chase it. That feeling of just giving into someone and letting go because you’re attracted to them, life is short, and fuck the overthinking mind. That used to be my approach before Evelynn came along, used to be why I was asked how I could so easily move on once being into someone. I knew a better feeling would be out there. I wasn’t going to dwell on the hurt.

The way I see it, take all the pieces—with each piece I gain something within myself: resilience, strength, determination, self-respect. And if you think I gave each piece freely, well, takes two to date. Take all the pieces. I might be someone who can’t get out of her heard but I’ll choose magnetism. What’s dating without raw attraction unforced? An arrangement. No thanks. Take all the pieces.

As for that confidence? She back.

Next.

Aug11

The Ambitious Factor.

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It is so terribly hard to be single in a society that wants you to be with someone, especially as a single mom. Everyone wants me to end up with someone. Everyone wants me to have a guy to “take care” of me and my daughter. Everyone wants me to have someone to share my life with and build a life with. The truth: yes, I would love that too, but not so bad that I’m willing to settle for it.

My boss and I at least once a month seem to catch up on my dating life. He likes to make sure I keep a stable head and not jumping into relationships with guys who aren’t worth my time. These chats typically happen after he’s been gone a week on a golf trip or after I blog and he’s like “What the fuck, Tiffany? What were you thinking talking to that guy?” I know, folks think it’s weird my boss and I can have such conversations openly and candidly but honestly, I need that dose of reality and from someone I respect. It’s a nice change from everyone else trying to set me up with guys that I’m not at all interested in. Which leads me to my latest dating tip from my boss because he actually nailed the one thing that’s holding me back from dating a lot of guys: ambition.

There are a few traits that I often find attractive in guys that are a total weakness to me: trimmed beards, athletic, willingness to help others, outgoing, respectful, great with kids, drives a truck, tattoos, not a scrub, enjoys the country, blah blah blah. But until that conversation, I didn’t even know why I had this feeling in my bones that kept holding me back from giving guys a try the last few months.

Very rarely do I meet men who are as ambitious as me (I know, my ego is unreal). It seems people are so easily okay with just settling in life and I’m not. People so badly want a 9-5 job and leave it at that. I don’t. I’ve never worked just 40 hours a week in my life, I think. And I can never just “leave my work” at the office. I get bored. I get antsy. My mind is always going. I need to work 50 hours at the minimum to even remotely feel like I’m going somewhere with my career…and that’s the kicker, I always want to be going somewhere. I’m not thrilled with the idea of dating a guy who doesn’t have goals outside of fitness and travel. “Travel the world” doesn’t mean a lot to me unless there’s a reason behind it—write a book, learn and embrace new culture, participating in charity. And when it comes to fitness….I can’t really get behind the “I just want to be bigger” mentality.

Give me a guy who wants to do something with his life.

I also can’t get behind the whole Netflix marathon shit and sleeping the weekend away. I dated a guy last fall where Saturdays were spent in bed—get your mind out of the gutter, he slept the day away typically and I either worked or read or left for a few to just get out. Being stagnant isn’t something I’m good at. I don’t have it in me. I don’t mind a Netflix marathon for a night or a day but not every weekend. Most nights I don’t get to bed until after 11pm and I’m up by 5am the next day—that’s being conservative, too—and then I’m go go go all day. Weekends might be a tad slower but I’m always making moves. I have no plans to slow down, I want someone to move with me….and not have to hold their hand.

And here we have the first lie of the bunch: ambitious people who don’t make moves. Talk about an oxymoron. Folks who have these goals and talk about going places and where they want to be but don’t take action. I’m a firm believer in will power and mind over matter. You just get up and do. You can talk all day about your goals and how you’re going to get there but until you work for them, you’re not going anywhere.

How do I find motivation? I force myself. “No” isn’t an option. Not succeeding isn’t an option. Not getting shit done, isn’t an option. I don’t want to hear about how you’re going to be a sales leader or own your own company one day but then constantly complain about working or turning down opportunities left and right to actually go somewhere. Please keep the negativity and laziness outside of my bubble.

Mostly, I’m waiting for the guy who wants to motivate me. Support is one thing, respect is another thing, but motivating goes a long way. It’s empowering. Help me get up at 5am so I can workout before work. I don’t want the guy who wants me to come back to bed or wants me to come out to the bar every night. Push me to be better. Call me out on shit that isn’t benefiting me. Hell, a guy who calls himself out on shit, that’s hot.

Have high standards.

I’ve been called shallow because I won’t date guys who don’t care about their health. High standards, health is important to me. I’m big into fitness and eating healthy and having a positive mind because I want to be around for a while for my kid. I show up.

I show up everyday for myself and for my kid. Everyday. Whether she’s with me or not. No matter how tired I am I get up out of bed. No matter how late it is I will get my workout in before the day is over. I will squeeze in the run to the grocery store so Evelynn has her berries and cheese and peanut butter, even if it means carrying her with one arm throughout the store as she naps. At times, I run myself thin to get shit done but I don’t regret it. I haven’t yet because I know one day it will all pay off.

I told myself I was going to be strong and lead by example. I told myself I was going to be selfish with my life and time because if Evelynn ever grew up and found herself in my situation, a single mom, I want her to do the same. I don’t want her to give up on her goals. I don’t want her to get lost on the couch and give up because life got hard and it can be lonely. Hell no. I would want her to chase her dreams and go after life. I would want her to have goals. I would never want her to settle for a man because society told her she needs to “end up with someone.”

I would want her to show up and be somebody, not coast through life. And I’m not willing to take time away from her or away from my goals to give guys who aren’t ambitious a try.

I think I’ll keep my high standards even if it means I’m “missing out” on love in my twenties and growing old with someone.

Mar28

Whiskey Please.

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It’s been three months and Evelynn still asks to see him, the last guy I dated. Last week, we had to drive 74 miles to her cardiology appointment and over half way there she starts asking if we’re going to see him. I was dumbfounded. Speechless. It had been a couple weeks since she had last asked—I thought it was over.

People always want to know what it’s like dating as a single mom. You don’t realize how heartbreaking it can be until your kid gets attached to the guy. Doesn’t matter how easy or how quickly you get over him, it’s all about the kid.

She’s never even once asked to see her father. I think that’s what makes it so much more difficult. I’ve never seen this side of her.

I’m the type who when betrayed or lied to, I very easily move on—no need pining over a guy who never respected or wanted me, and I’m not one for crying. But something happened, repeatedly dealing with Evelynn asking about seeing him, that has cut me down. It’s like the dating side of me has shut down. I can’t figure out if I’m up for it or not. I can’t figure out how to tell if a guy is being honest—I used to have pretty good judgement of character. I can’t tell if a guy wants me for my body and for me to be a placeholder until they meet someone else who doesn’t have a kid and who can make all the time in the world for them—sorry I’ve got goals to meet and am ambitious—or if they genuinely want me, “baggage”—god I hate that term—and all.

I can’t tell if it’s worth it.

When Evelynn was a baby, it was much easier to date—she didn’t ask about the guy. Now, at three years old, she takes interest and remembers the guy. And let’s be honest, I’m the type who introduces the guy fairly early—judge all you want. Why? I’d rather know how they get along early and it’s good to see how the guy handles a kid being around. She’s my world. I don’t want to date a guy for two or four months only to introduce them and suddenly he realizes that “it’s too real.” She’s my reality—I love my reality.

I finally said yes to a date last week and I couldn’t open up. I was stiff. Boring. Disconnected. I suddenly didn’t know how to date. Crazy considering this is me we’re talking about and I have a tendency to date fast and break up even quicker. I never liked my time wasted with guys I couldn’t see another date or anything past tomorrow with. I half expected the guy to cancel—wouldn’t be the first time.

I’d take getting stood up any day over Evelynn getting attached to a guy who never even wants a future. Who already has an expiration date in mind—and doesn’t share it.

Why can’t dating be like a fine wine? Where it gets better with age?

Likely because I prefer whiskey—bartender, I’ll take a double.

I’d love to double down on the dating, too, while I’m at it and shed this thick armor but let’s be real, I like my high standards. And I hate the dating apps. When did it not become normal for a girl to meet a guy in a bar or the coffee shop? And I’d much rather play it by ear, continue with the house shopping and goal digging while I sip on this whiskey.

Dec30

Bring on the Backbone.

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backbone blog2017 has been one hell of a rollercoaster year. For growth, personally and professionally, mentally and physically.

When I began the year, I was coasting primarily at about 120lbs., unable to keep my weight consistently up to a comfortable number, annoyed when people I hadn’t seen in years told me I looked great when I felt weak most days. Skinny, I can assure you, is not all it’s cracked up to be. I’m a size zero damn near a double 0. It’s a pain in the ass to find jeans or leggings that fit me, most shirts fit awkwardly, and I only buy from the junior department at Kohl’s. I can’t shop women sections anywhere—seriously, most don’t make them small enough for me. That all being said, I’m self-conscious of the slightest weight change, loss or gain. It’s one topic I despise: weight. Doesn’t matter if they’re talking about themselves, me, or someone else. I don’t mind giving healthy eating habits or exercising tips but anything beyond that I’m quickly annoyed by.

Skinny isn’t everything, it’s hardly anything. Fit not skinny is my goal and motto.

Yet, I’m constantly asking folks around me at work to lift shit or open shit for me. Let’s not talk about my stamina on the soccer field—pretty sure the asthma is back and here I thought I had outgrown it. The year started off well on working out regularly and at some point life happened and I couldn’t fit it in as well anymore.

My overall health is on the up, however. I found out I can’t have dairy, a symptom of being “diagnosed” with Celiac Disease so late in life and not going gluten free until I was 25 that lead so such an allergy. I’m sick less, fatigued less, and awake more. Not being able to work out, I focused more on my eating habits. As if my diet couldn’t become more high maintenance. I might be slightly neurotic when it comes to eating some days…or most days, whatever.

And I have to be crazy because when it comes to dating, my radar for finding great guys is impeccable…and I continue to blog about my dating life that has turned into a horror sitcom. The male species have taken everything out of me. I have let them run me down. Played for a fool a number of times. Gave a guy a second chance only to find out the reason he didn’t know what he wanted to do for New Years was because he was hoping for someone else to come along for him to spend it with. Seriously, his dating profile says, “be my new years kiss that sticks around.” Yeah, it came across my attention while I was visiting him. I was only a place holder for him—that’s a really great feeling to have. And if any of my blogs from this past year have proven anything, it’s that I’ve completely lost my backbone and self-respect.

At least when it comes to dating.

Professionally, I have a lot going for me. My boss is like the older brother I never wanted, and I work in an environment where I’m pushed to get better every day. I’ve grown a lot in my capabilities, expanded HFG on a new scale socially. All because of the support I’m provided at work, and that is a really great feeling, knowing I’m surrounded by team members who do care about the success of each other in addition to the company’s. While I’ve watched the company more than triple its size, I’ve also seen my baby (our social media) grow and expand. And yes, it’s seriously like my baby.

I have written enough poetry 2018 can be the year I seek publication. I’m not talking about in competitions or in magazines, I mean as an author of a compiled body of work. Wow. Blowing my own mind there—and you should blow your own damn mind once in a while.

My kid blows my mind every day, though. Being a mother has been the highlight that never fades, making the hard days easy. Knowing I’m a good mom is another great feeling, the fact that I can tune out any noise from anyone who thinks otherwise is assuring—I haven’t lost my self-respect there. In the last year, Evelynn has turned three, played in the ocean for the first time on her first vacation to Florida (yes, we actually took a vacation), started pre-preschool, and has come a long way in her speech. She’s advanced for fine motor and solving problems, doing puzzles. She’s also advanced in the act of being stubborn, fairly certain she might be the boss in this household.

Which brings me to 2018, the year we might move out and into our own place. Oh, you can definitely say I’m excited for next year. Bring it on.

Maybe I’ll even find that backbone.

Oct10

Portland Here I Come.

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I don’t know how to halfass anything. I’m known for being laid back & nonchalant but I’m also an all-in or forget it kinda girl.

Work. School. Dating. Parenting. Health.

I’m either jumping head first & drowning in the commitment or it’s not registering on my radar. I hold on for the long haul. On the rare occasion I decide to quit, I’m a bit dramatic: going all in with the sudden cold turkey, no looking back method.

Why? It works.

All three times I dropped out of college were snap decisions. (Don’t worry, I do have my degree.) It was like waking up to a blinking neon sign & that was all the clarity I needed. Forget the $20K in extra student loans I may have racked up in the process—regrets aren’t in my nature.

Quit gluten to test Celiac disease? No problem. Absolutely did not think that one through. I could have used a week to pig out on cheap greasy pizza & cinnamon twist donuts (not the rolls, come on). Okay, so I might regret that gung-ho approach some days.

Broke up with the baby daddy on a New Year’s Eve because I had to start the new year off right and I couldn’t be bothered to be with someone another second when I wasn’t into him. Not the most sensitive or considerate way I could have done it, maybe.

Wasn’t kidding about the dramatics.

Found out I was pregnant & “other options” didn’t mean jack to me. EJ may have been a complete shock & unplanned but an abortion never entered my mind. That second line appeared and I balled the Grand Rapids Grand River into flood zone—I was going to be a mom. A 180 would take place with my life & that excited me—committing wholeheartedly to the unknown.

Dating is the hardball of the group, though. I’ve never understood the dating multiple people at once unless it’s just in fun. I’ve always believed that if you meet someone worth your time, you don’t fuck it up. You don’t chase other guys. You don’t look for attention elsewhere. You don’t waste time & dates with guys you’re not really interested in. But maybe that’s because I value my time & hate wasting it. At the same time, I’ve always thought that if you aren’t willing to give up “the others” for someone, that person isn’t enough for you. It won’t last. If you have to think about your feelings—convince yourself—there’s a 99.8% chance he’s not going to last and keep your attention after another few months.

It’s your subconscious telling you you’re already bored.

I’ve always thought hesitation speaks volumes. You can find more truth in the silence.

& there’s a lot of hesitation when dating a single mom. You can imagine how I handle that.

Yet I committed wholeheartedly to accepting dating as a single mom would be no paradise and would rain hesitation. I should move to Portland.

May12

Still Got It.

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I got stood up again this past weekend. Well, to be accurate, the guy just flaked out on me but I consider the two to be the same thing. And yes, it’s that same guy who stood me up back in February. Apparently, I’ve lost my backbone at some point in the last year. That’s depressing and intolerable.

That same weekend I also got my hair chopped and colored for the first time in my life. Whenever I end it with a guy or need to make a change, it seems I have to change my hair. It’s a statement. It’s an “I’m sorry I can’t talk to you anymore, I had a different hair style then.” Is that acceptable? Yes. Is that childish? Likely. Blame it on the estrogen. Girls need a physical change to represent an attitude or emotional change. Makes the mindset more permanent. A reminder.

And my bullshit meter just maxed out.

Online dating is the norm. There’s no bush to beat. People say they don’t want to meet someone in a bar. What do you think the norm was 20 years ago? The bar. The restaurant. The beach. The coffee shop. A mutual friend. Anything that wasn’t the internet.

Last summer I got asked out by a stranger at Reed’s Lake. The guy was kind of a creep about it; told me I was absolutely stunning and that he couldn’t help but stare, and would I mind if he took me out to dinner right then. I turned him down. I’m a hypocrite—this was the day after I asked a friend, “whatever happened to getting asked out at the bar?” Yes, I would prefer the bar over the internet. Turns out, guys are even creepier online. And more flakey.

Enter last weekend and my attitude adjustment. Or should I say return?

I’ve been known among my girlfriends as the one who doesn’t put up with shit from guys. Who doesn’t tolerate disrespect or guys thinking they’re going to control me. Who doesn’t give second chances. I have this firm belief that by mid-twenties, people are 98% set in their ways, character and habit wise.

I’ve always been someone who knows who I am.

Hell, whenever my boss asks me, “How’d you know to do that?” or “That’s actually pretty smart, where’d that come from?” It’s almost a guarantee I respond with, “Because I’m fucking awesome.”

So where did that badass chick go? Because I haven’t been her in months. I have questioned my worth multiple times, asked myself what is wrong with me? Why I’m not enough. Ugh. Again, so depressing and intolerable.

I’ve given this dude countless chances, let him flake out on me multiple times. I’m to the point where I’m more disappointed in and upset with myself than him.

Whatever happened to the assertive man? The guy who knows what he wants (and it’s more than just sex) and knows how to ask a girl out and make plans. But like I said I’m a hypocrite. I’ve knack of going for the wrong guy. I keep meeting and talking with boys and it’s just pushing me more and more in the direction of wanting to be a career woman who buys sperm and makes it as a single mom. (Yes, I am in fact fully aware of how crazy this makes me sound.) I can live with not finding a guy to have by my side but I can’t give up on wanting more kids. I don’t have it in me.

I hate when people ask me why I’m still single. It’s a choice. And I’ve still got it.

Apr25

Swinging Puppet.

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There are two types of people in this world: those who swing when backed into a corner and those who cower. Every weekend I have a near breakdown. It’s supposed to be the time to unwind but instead it’s the time to get myself ready for the next week and come Sunday evening I want to cry. Why? I seem to think I’m not good enough.

At 27-years-young I’ve become a puppet. Work and living with the parents have my hands tied while my daughter has my feet firmly planted and unwavering. My days are spent pleasing everyone but myself and the idea that I have come to let life pass me by is terrifying. I constantly feel like I can never dedicate enough time to Evelynn while maintaining my work. Social life? You can forget it. One of the most dreaded questions I’m asked is, “So what do you do for fun?” I pause. I stare at my phone, I stare blankly at the person asking me, I stare off into space, I look around me dazed. The question never ceases to make me simply stop. Fun? Fun?? My kid is my fun; or my health (gym, yoga). Both of which I love…which makes it so much more irritating when they come back at me with, “No, like what do you do in your spare time?” Damnit, I don’t have spare time then. (Yes, I have been known to snap.)

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen friends in the last year.

Yes, it gets lonely. And depressing. And so I wonder, what’s wrong with me? I think I’m not good enough. If other people can make it work, why am I struggling so much? Why do I feel like I’m drowning?

I can’t handle whining and that’s exactly what it sounds like, right? Enter breakdown mode.

I have always had this mindset or philosophy that no matter how bad it gets for someone, it’s worse for someone else. And let’s face it, I have a constant reminder having grown up with a brother who can’t talk, walk, eat, or even roll over in his own bed. Whenever I felt backed into a corner or life was knocking me down, I came back swinging and hellbent on taking a stand. I’m not one to cower.

Friday night on the news was this story of a young boy, Jamarion, who had no arms but a dream to play basketball. On his first day in middle school, his coach took a chance on him—couldn’t deny a boy with such passion and drive from being on the team. As expected, the kid was a benchwarmer. He was ok with that. He just wanted to be part of a basketball team. Then he got a chance to play and scored two three-pointers, one of which was at the buzzer.

Fucking ridiculous.

But it gets better.

Interviewer: “If I could wave a magic wand right now and give you your arms back, would you want them?”

Jamarion: “I don’t need them.”

Amazing.

…remember my feet? They’re firmly planted and unwavering, with Evelynn wrapped around them. She’s the only one I worry about pleasing. My hands? The tie can be unbound, the strings snipped and fashioned into new ropes. I’ll wrap my hands in them to protect from bruising—what can I say? I’m a swinger.

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.

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.