August 21, 2006
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oh. my. god.
Emma’s spending the night with a friend tonight so I heated up the pesto pizza for BabyJane and I. I knew Dylan wouldn’t want any and figured if he didn’t he could fend for himself. He’s 16 years old and has taken two years of home-ec. Bjane and I were watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when he asked me how to prepare a chicken breast. I said, “get the broiler pan, you know the one? (yes) Put it on there, sprinkle it with basil and pepper, and broil it for 8 minutes… then turn it over and broil for another 6. Then you take it out, cut it open and see if it’s done though.”
I was sitting there watching the movie when I thought, mmmm… I love the smell of broiling chicken. Then there was the smell of burning chicken. “Dylan are you checking on your chicken?” Oh yes. But I got up and went in to look. There on the burner was a charred, smoking chicken breast in my nice saute pan. The back door and the window were open. My pan is ruined and the kitchen was trashed. He put butter in. And put it on high. Aw, crap.
I freaked. He got surly.
This is a perfect example of how being a single mother Sucks. There’s no one there to offset your freaking out. No one to be the calm. No one to vent to afterward. Plus, you need to shore up the kids. You have to put your arms around them and tell them you’re sorry. Oh yeah, and Baby Jane needed a back rub before bed. Single parents give out energy and it’s not the kids’ job to give it back. There are no loving arms to retreat to for you, no back rubs. There’s a constant outpouring of energy that you have to replenish on your own. Where do we get it? We make it. Forget alchemists, single moms are fucking amazing wonders of nature.
I get over things quickly but frankly the damage is done. Forget the quarter. I’m putting ten bucks in the therapy jar for this one.
I remember making my mother breakfast when I was 8. I put the bacon in a soup pot, filled it with oil, put on the lid and turned it to high. At least my single mother got to meet some good-looking firemen. But let me mention that *I* had not taken home-ec at that point.
I was a single mom for three and a half years. I’ve been a single mom again for over two and a half, if I’m counting correctly. It is SO HARD. No one appreciates what you do. Do you think my ex-husband, the Prince of Darkness, ever calls me up to say, “thank you for being a single mom to the kids so that I can see them every other weekend, watch movies with them, take them to the mall, and feed them Lucky Charms”? Uh, NO.
Jerry Maquire’s been on the tube again lately. Men love that movie. I think it’s a load of crap. It’s pretty good up until the unrealistic ending. Do you really think Jerry Maquire would walk in and say “you complete me”? No he’d just call. He’d say, “Hey, uh, hon, I’m in Cancun with, uh… anyway, could you fed-ex me my good shirts?”
This is why you don’t “shoplift the pootie from a single mom,” as Cuba Gooding Jr.’s character so interestingly puts it. Know why? Because you just made her life exponentially harder. Those few weeks of bliss she had that brought so much joy to her life, made everything seem so much easier? Well, now she’s paying and paying and paying. Everything seems so much harder, for so much longer. And how do you think that effects the kids? If mama ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy.
But we’re the miraculous single moms. We know the score– so we fucking suck it up, put a smile on our face, and fucking GO ON. We’ve learned how to take tragedy, scrape the char off, and make it, if not delicious, at least palatable. We GO ON.
We work hard and no one seems to care. Here’s to all of us rockin’ the single mom gig. We appreciate each other. Don’t fuck with a single mom.
Comments (13)
Did I ever mention how Emma does this thing where about half the time she goes on a sleepover she gets sick and has to be picked up? Yeah…
I’m a not-single mom of a teenage girl (she’s not even mine!) and I want to strangle her, or just get the fuck away often (it’s gone from daily to weekly, so I guess I should be grateful). I’m not exactly sure how you do it, I just know that you do, and you’re a badass. when they get older, maybe when they have kids of their own, they’ll know.
Aw, man… trust me, someday they’ll realize.
((((satori))))
I can’t even imagine.
props for what you do, Satori.
hopefully in ten years when they realize everything you’ve done for them, they’ll tell you how much they appreciate it.
i watch my sister and am amazed.
i have to force her to do things for herself or else she wouldn’t & no one else would.
want me to come over & rub your back, sweetness?
Single parents give out energy and it’s not the kids’ job to give it back.
You eloquently express the details of what makes being a single parent so HARD… and I feel you. The older three of the six of us (my siblings and I) helped to raise the younger three. Dad was physically present, but it was really just a technicality. He wasn’t actually involved in child rearing, and they were all biologically his and my mom’s. He didn’t even pick up #4 for the first two years of #4′s life.
When I got to college, I realized (only because I was finally responsible for it myself!) how much my mother had done for us, or at least how much she had done for me, and that was when I was a burgeoning adult. What about all the diaper changes, cooking lessons, broken hearts, hurt feelings, sibling fights, etc.?
I’d give you a grade A super-deluxe back rub if I could. You deserve it, and so much more. You are doing the right thing– the miserable, unappreciated hard damn work of raising kids the right way.
We’re here to listen and support you! And hey, if the kids can’t or won’t say it, I will: Thanks, Mom.
p.s. that cartoon is hilarious!
Wow, this makes me feel less bad for myself because of situations with certain people taking up massive amounts of my time lately and inconveniencing me. While this has been a huge hassle, I don’t have the tremendous responsibility of having to provide for and take care of children.
It must be quite the challenge to be June Cleaver when you’re having a hard day and you don’t have an adult counterpart to vent to and help you, and to balance out the whole equation. Sounds like you do the absolute best you can, so keep on trucking.
P.S. Good point about the phoney ending in Jerry Maguire!
Awww, baby, I can’t even fathom how hard it is. *love*
well, you read me back when i was alone with the kids for half of the time, and you know that i cracked bigtime. and that was with someone who came home every other week and did all those things. i really don’t know how, or honestly even if, i could’ve managed it for-real alone. you’ve got all my respect. it doesn’t help when the kitchen is on fire, i know, but you have it nonetheless.
Agreed. My bestfriend is a single mom. SINGLE MOM’S ROCKS!