Single Motherhood
I try not to complain about being a single mom. I mean, really, it’s not like I came to be a single mother by accident. Oops, how did that dossier get submitted? I knew going in that it was going to be difficult – especially if I had to deal with frightening medical issues. I failed to anticipate one key component, though. A matter so menacing that, had I known about it before hand, I might have thought twice about taking that first leap.
Before becoming a parent, did you have any idea the amount of assembly actually required by the words “some assembly required”? If you’re a married mom, maybe you haven’t given this much thought. The single moms out there know what I’m talking about, though. Especially if they have boys. I first noticed this issue at Christmas, when I spent night after night assembling Oscar’s presents. It was miserable enough that I have not purchased anything for him since then that I couldn’t take straight out of a box and hand to him to play.
Sadly, he’s turning two this week, which meant that I had to go and buy him a present. Don’t tell him, but he’s getting a big train set, complete with a train table. So, guess what I did this weekend? The train table alone took me almost three hours to put together. It had over 58 parts, not including the hardware. Sure, it would have taken less time had he not been at my side with his little screwdriver (don’t worry, he can’t tell what the table is for – he just thinks it’s a new addition for the family room – one that he can climb onto and jump off of – all while I’m thinking, please don’t stand on that, don’t you know that I put that together? it could disintegrate any second now). It looks great, and I’m sure it will all be worth it, but why is it so complicated? Why do the instructions not have ANY words on them? Why are the illustrations themselves ALWAYS inaccurate? Why? Is it some conspiracy? Better get married; you’ll never figure this stuff out without some guy.
It’s really kind of pathetic. I’m fine with the other aspects of single motherhood. Now that I have the whole brain scan and first E.R. visit under my belt, I’m feeling like I can deal with the serious issues that might crop up. It’s this stuff – the “guy” stuff – that concerns me. I don’t want to be one of those girls who calls their male friends each time they need to build these things, so I won’t. But that just means that I spend 2-3 times as long as I should working on these projects when I could be doing other things with Oscar, or barring that, sleeping. Sorry for the rant, but I’m only midway through this project and had to let off some steam. I have three more boxes of parts to assemble before the weekend. Who was the genius who thought that the train set with over 100 pieces of track plus all of the buildings that have to be assembled individually was such a great move? Oh yeah, I have no one to blame but myself.
Done at one?
I’ve been pretty candid about my struggle with whether I should add another child to our family. I thought this struggle had subsided, but lo and behold, Sunday night’s vomit-fest threw me for a loop. Of course, it wasn’t the vomit that made me question having another child. It’s the fact that I, alone, had to clean up said vomit while trying to corral a very sick toddler and two dogs. This seemingly innocuous (albeit disgusting) task has prodded me into some fairly serious soul-searching.
Let’s start with the basics. I have one somewhat perfect child. I want another. But, then again, I also want quite a few other things in life, and this is where things get complicated. I am a single parent. I make all decisions regarding my child alone; I shoulder all of the responsibilities of having a child, whether financial, emotional or otherwise, alone; I worry about my child, and about anything that could impact my child, alone. And, for the most part, I’m ok with this. To the extent one can anticipate these things before having a child, I went into this single parenthood thing with my eyes open. In some respects, it’s been easier than I had anticipated. In some respects, far, far more difficult.
I find myself thinking about the reality of life with two children. Oscar is manageable on my own. We’re still pretty mobile; I can at least contemplate traveling with him (although I’m certainly avoiding doing it). With two? Are you kidding me? I know there are moms out there that do this – I’ve read your blogs – but I just cannot fathom it myself. I wonder how I’m going to deal with my career and the logistics of having two kids. Two sets of doctors and dentist appointments; two sets of classes, sports, etc. How am I going to cope with two kids who are sick at the same time? And don’t even get me started thinking about paying two college tuitions (but then again I imagine most parents don’t let themselves think about that prior to getting pregnant/adopting or there would be no children out there).
When I think of these things, I find myself wondering if I’m being selfish in questioning whether I should have another child. Aren’t these issues all just pointing to the impact another child is going to have on my personal time (to the extent I have any) or finances? Aren’t I really worried that a second child is going to be inconvenient for me?
What gets me here is that I had similar worries while I was waiting for Oscar’s referral (which none of you knew about because I didn’t start this blog until well after I had accepted his referral!). Not the same worries – likely because you don’t really understand what you’re getting yourself into when you don’t already have a child – but significant worries about whether I was making a huge mistake. Obviously, having him was the best thing I could have done in my life. So, my question is, do people more typically follow their heart than their head in their family planning decisions?
So foul
I believe I last posted on Saturday. A mere two days ago, but it feels like forever. Oscar caught a cold from Teacher Julia and it kicked into gear Saturday afternoon. By Sunday afternoon the Diaper Genie was full of a nastiness I lack the vocabulary to describe. I should have foreseen that this sort of gastrointestinal distress might not limit itself to just one variety, but somehow (whether out of optimism or sheer stupidity) I did not.
Oscar and I were lying on the sofa watching Classical Baby while he had his bottle. He finished it and appeared to be going to sleep when he was hit by a coughing fit. It subsided, but he sat up, looked at me and threw up. Just a little, but little did I know that was just a preview of coming attractions. I’ll spare you the details, but it was bad. Awful, really. I can deal with a lot of things, but vomit is not one of them, regardless of whether it’s mine or someone else’s. Vomit is my kryptonite.
Six hours later, Oscar, clean after four baths (I told you it was bad), was finally sleeping fitfully. I was left to deal with the residue. I had tried to clean the floors, sofa and walls earlier, but this was one of those times that made me realize how difficult being a single mom can be. There’s really not much you can do during these moments – I tried to place Oscar in the (empty) tub while I mopped down the floor in front of his bathroom, but he wasn’t having it. Understandably, he wanted to be held, so I had to leave the mess(es) alone, covered in towels, hoping that the dogs wouldn’t touch it either. Between cleaning the seven “impact zones” and trying to make sure Oscar stayed asleep, it took almost four hours for me to get things set right. Makes me seriously wonder how I’m going to do this with two kids.
Oy
I thought I’d take advantage of the beautiful day (and the fact I had Nanny Norma in the house watching Oscar while I had the afternoon off) to clean out my car. This is a task that has been neglected for a long time. A very long time. Like, I found lots of crayons and lip glosses in the third row of seats (the ones that are only used by my nieces, who haven’t been here for almost two years). Thanks girls.
I know I got the car washed before Oscar came home, but I certainly have just been accumulating debris in there since we got back from VN. And this was not aided by the fact that (1) we moved (which meant that there was a ton of crap in the back – you know, the detritus that doesn’t quite make it into the moving boxes but that you find when you’re doing the last sweep before you leave), (2) I’m a single mom and (3) we don’t have a garage I can park in. This means that whenever we arrive home from Target, etc., my single task is to get the two of us, along with the nonsense we’ve purchased and Oscar’s things, into the house. There’s no bonus time to leisurely go back to the car and tidy up.
So, I put on my shoes this afternoon and realized that I didn’t have my keys. I tore through the house, not finding them in any of my usual spots. I went through all jacket pockets, dove into my purse (which is in dire need of cleaning as well) and started to panic. What if I had inadvertently thrown them into the garbage yesterday when I was putting away our weekly purchases from Target? What if I had left them on the gate outside? And then I remembered, running out to the car. Yep, there they were, right on top of the car, perched above the driver side door. Ever so convenient for any passer by to pick them up and drive on off in the Volvo. Or worse, to walk right into our house. This would have worried me if we still lived in a small town, but we live in a city. A large city with crime. This was just stupid. Of all the stupid “mom” things I could’ve done, this might only be eclipsed by leaving a child on top of a car. Or leaving the kid behind somewhere. Hmm, actually, I can think of a lot of other things. Maybe this one wasn’t all that horrible…
When a tent’s not just a tent
Tonight, my baby’s playroom became a toddler’s playroom. My youngest brother and his wife are giving Oscar his first play tent for Christmas. It’s a space station, complete with four tunnels. At its widest span, it measures 12 feet. Insane – oh, and did I mention that it’s 12 feet of shiny polyester? Truly hideous, but he’s going to LOVE it. I began this project with not a little trepidation, but ultimately, it wasn’t that bad. I think it took me about an hour to put the entire thing together. And I did it without using any profanity at all. Yep, I know you’re all impressed. That’s not the story here, though.
Ever notice how the most mundane tasks are sometimes the ones where you have the most profound thoughts? OK, so that didn’t really happen here tonight, but something less than profound did occur to me. I’m not so sure I’m ready for Oscar to stop being my baby. I got him only nine months ago, and he’s already a full-blown little boy. What brought it home was that I had to get rid of his gymini in order to make room for the tent. It truly bothered me.
Don’t get me wrong. I know he has to grow up, but I feel like it’s happening way too fast. I know that all moms feel the same way. I just didn’t expect to feel this way myself. Not at this point, at least. I had originally wanted to adopt a toddler instead of an infant, so shouldn’t I be happy that he’s getting to that stage now? It’s all so crazy. I’ve gone from utter frustration in assembling a Christmas present to mourning the loss of my child’s infancy in the course of two hours. What’s going to happen tomorrow when I put together my other brother’s gift?
My super day
So, single moms of toddlers out there, have you ever wondered what would happen if you were to become violently ill during the waking hours of your child? I awoke to a migraine this morning, which I was able to keep under control under around noon when the nausea became less of a threat and far more of a reality. Knowing my little monster would have a holy fit if I were to leave him in the playroom while I rid myself of the Sprite I had had for brunch, I scooped him up and took him with me. I’ll spare you some of the details, but Oscar didn’t play with the scale as I had hoped (“look, it beeps,” I croaked out while pushing him towards it). No, he decided it would be far more fun to try to catch whatever it was that was flying out of mom’s mouth and nose. Good times. Here’s to hoping tonight is better.
Not loving this . . .
It’s Friday evening and I’m still at work. Drafting a merger agreement for a deal. I’m going to have to get this to the client on Sunday night, which is now forcing me to actually face the fact that I’m a single mom with a career. Before now it was pretty theoretical. Sure, I’ve been in the office every day for the past three weeks or so, but most days have been pretty quiet and I’ve been home well before 7:00. Worse, is that I have a house guest this weekend, and I might have to ask him to watch Oscar while I work a little on Sunday. But, jeez, the GUILT! Not about asking my friend to help; just about having to work and not being able to spend as much time with Oscar.
Can’t complain too much, as the pressure to get this deal doc out is based on the fact that I need to be on a plane early Friday morning. Oscar and I are bound for Lanai! I cannot tell you how excited I am about this. It will be the first time the two of us have been alone for any significant period of time since Nanny Norma joined us this summer. I think it’s going to be fantastic. Okay, back to the grindstone.
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Where I’ve Been
