I thought single motherhood would be the end of the world.
I feel like I have two lives. One is the one I've always had with kids and the park and odd things sticking to my clothes so much that I can't wear anything more than once without washing it.
And then there's this other life, when I can turn off my internal mom monitor (momitor?) and talk about grown up things and use big(ish) words and complex sentence structures to illustrate ideas beyond the ken of the smartest four-year olds.
Usually my other life is spent warming the same bench at the same coffeehouse I called my home ten years ago. A true one-of-a-kind coffeehouse, there is no substitute for it. Not wanting to return so literally to my past in starting my new life, I explored other ports of elecrticity and caffiene, and finding nothing nearly as unique or stimulating, circled back to my roots. There are a few familiar faces even after all this time (some say you never really leave the orbit of the Last Drop); I regularly see the guy who introduced me to Josh, back when we were young and green as springtime buds.
At first I lived for this life. I counted the hours and minutes until it was time for the handoff and I could walk out the door and exhale finally. At first barely a minute of my time away would be spent thinking of the two at home with their dad, being put to bed and shushed to sleep.
Lately, though, as things settle and my mind becomes more clear, I have more for them. Survival mode gave way to a more balanced, thoughtful perpective. I can now think about being a good parent, modeling values I believe in to the young minds in my charge, instead trying to do damage control, keeping future therapy bills as low as possible without swallowing myself whole.
I am a single mom now. And I feel fine. Better than fine. Free, because the case of the fuck-its appears to be terminal.
Think I'm a narcissist? I probably am. Fuck it. Think my house is disorganized? Yep, you're right. Oh well. Think I'm grandiose, irresponsible, overcommercialized with the giant orange foot over there in the ad column, and a general pain in the ass? Well, you might be right, but fuck it anyway.
I am who I am. I'm not in the mood to compromise or apologize. I am hell bent on living an authentic life (because if I don't, how will my children learn to?) and this means chucking the opinions of others into the proverbial dumpster. Especially the opinions that run in my head of what I imagine people would say. Not only do I not care if what they think, if they disagree, I don't care what I'm afraid they're thinking.