why I will be single forever
My Wish List
Dec 11th
I’m almost back on track for getting into the spirit of the season. It’s really now or never.
Unless, I can trick my kids into thinking it’s only November.
I don’t think it’s going to work and I think I will blame that on the SOL’s. Or maybe Tiger Woods.
No, it’s definitely Jeff Dunham’s fault that I can’t put Christmas off for one more week. Which is one more reason to hate him but doesn’t solve my problem.
Because I don’t think they will believe that Santa lost his keys, “you know just like Mommy does every morning on the way to school. I’m sure he will be here any minute” I have to get started on my Christmas shopping.
I’m at a total loss for what to get anybody this year. I think this means that everyone I know, including my kids, are spoiled rotten and have too much shit.
But it’s Christmas. It’s a time for giving (or having a nervous breakdown when you try to make a “quick stop” for laundry detergent because you forgot that as far as charity and goodwill go all bets are off at Target in December. There, and the Amazon page for Zhu Zhu pets, are proof enough for me of the Lord’s forgiveness.)
Maybe it would be easier to start with my own wish list.
Because I’m pretty certain that a 22 year old boy toy, who loves to do dishes and thinks that I am queen of the universe, thereby keeping respectfully quiet at all times, is not going to fit in my stocking (I’ve got a six-foot minimum. Beggars can be choosers. They can also spend Saturday nights eating dry cereal and dancing with their dog), I was still having trouble.
So I was back to blog stalking, where I came across Mim’s post about knitting her first pair of socks. Mim has this great energy that will motivate anyone, so her blog seemed the perfect place to go for some holiday cheer. I also love her artwork (really if you ever talk to her, it is impossible not to love whatever she does). It’s freezing here right now so not only did I want her to immediately make me five pairs of socks to wear right now but her cozy looking mitts led me to her etsy shop, Fritzi.
I am a child of the 80’s, so fingerless gloves are a must have accessory, but I have refrained from neon purple lace ones (the sacrifices I make to not embarrass my kids!). Also, because I quit smoking this year and can finally keep a pair of gloves for more than a week without them smelling like an ashtray I have decided to put these on my list.
I am also emailing the link to my kids Dad. I’m pretty easy to please but you only need so many keychains made by a three year old (I almost died in child birth, for God’s sake!) and I know I’m repeating myself but I quit smoking, so the traditional carton of cigarettes will not be there to fill my stocking. Santa can also cut down on the number of airplane bottles since there are no more holiday visits to the in-laws.
Cut down, not out. I still have to work.
Merry SITSmas!
Dec 8th
First I want to say Merry SITSmas!!
Welcome to everyone visiting from SITS and thanks for all of the daily motivation and encouragement.
I was lucky to learn early in my blogging adventures that “the secret to success is support.”
Because I have learned so much from this amazing community of women bloggers, SITSmas means more to me than just a day to extend holiday greetings.
Today I am focusing on creating new holiday traditions for my family.
Every year I get in kind of a Christmas funk (anyone who is rolling their eyes thinking “big elfing surprise! when are you not in a funk?” may elf off. You may also elf off if you think that dropping “elf bombs” is too corny. It’s my first new tradition).
Just like half the American population, I am part of a “blended” family. I had a hard time finding a word to describe a family that has been blended several times over but I was able to find some statistics to help illustrate my particular situation.
In America, 1 out of 2 first marraiges, 2 out of 3 second marriages, and 3 out of 4 third marriages end in divorce. Also, 3% of Americans marry 3 or more times. I’m no math whiz, but by my calculations, half of that 3% is one of my step-parents.
My parents started early so I never knew anything different. It wasn’t until the second or third grade, when I noticed that some kids didn’t need eight sheets of construction paper to complete a simple family tree, that I realized most people don’t trade up every three years (according to statistics its 7.9 years).
While I have a uniquely skewed view on the sanctity of marriage, I also have a lot of half-siblings, and step cousins, aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents who I love dearly and wouldn’t trade for anything. I have remained close to most of my many step-families and now have a huge support system.
Unfortunately, during the holidays I was too busy concentrating on using my very best handwriting in my letters to Santa, just to be sure he didn’t mistakenly leave me an extra Mom or Dad, to get really in tune with any tradition. The only one that stands out is the confusion and stress of being shuffled to eight different houses before noon on Christmas day.
Even though my kid’s dad and I don’t live together anymore and come from completely different backgrounds (he comes from a freakish “nuclear family”) we agree that marriage is for suckers and that our kids are the most important part of the holidays.
So I’m starting from scratch. For me, SITSmas is a day to get out of my holiday rut and hunt for new holiday traditions.
This is Only the Beginning
Dec 2nd
Before I get to Word Wall Wednesday, I have two things I want to mention.
First, my cats are fine. They didn’t touch the poinsettia and just in case I called my vet to see if I should just toss it. They are not deadly poisonous they will just cause a little stomach upset. Honestly, that would serve them right for destroying everything in my house. Before you animal lovers get all bent out of shape and call the animal cops, know that I have tried to report myself and they won’t take them back.
Also, I’m really excited to announce that Lady Wanderlust at The World According to Lisa interviewed me for The Great Interview Experiment 2009. Her blog is one of my new favorites and it seems we may have been separated at birth. So a big thanks to Neil Kramer at Citizen of the Month for this awesome project.
The interview I did will be posted soon and I would like to invite any of my readers who would like to be featured here in an interview to let me know.
Because one of her questions for me centered around my post “Single Life“, which was my actual Match.com profile for about a year, I decided I would step away from the usual parenting theme of Word Wall Wednesday and use my daughter’s second grade vocabulary words to illustrate a few reasons why I am taking a well deserved break from dating.
In an effort to not waste anyone’s time I am always up front and honest, the unfortunate truth is, no matter the age, background or experience, men do not listen.
If a man agrees with most of the things you say, returns all of your texts and phone calls within minutes, and shows up for all of your dates on time he probably does not have a job.
Turns out, no matter what they say, men with young children usually are looking for a step-mother. Any reasons you have for believing they aren’t are probably good clues that they are still married to said young children’s mother.
Cutting all communication after any mention of a restraining order against an ex-wife, is the best way to avoid a surprise attack in the ladies room during an otherwise very nice first date.
While I appreciate the generosity of older men , I get very uncomfortable having to refuse more than one offer of having my children come over to play on a backyard swing set, especially if the offerer’s adult children do not allow their own kids to visit unchaperoned.
Checking a man’s trunk for “a friend’s car seat” is a good way to avoid breaking your new rule of not dating men with children.
Men my age who have never been in a committed relationship may seem perfect, but sometimes the reason is a gastrointestinal issue that probably should be discussed before chinese food at his very tiny apartment, where even the noise from a heavy rain can’t hide the horrifying sounds of an obviously unhealthy bowel movement.
If his bowels work just fine, there is a great chance he kisses his dog with an open mouth.
When you realize that a man has not been completely honest about his height, pray that his Napoleon complex does not compel him to make loud racist comments in a crowded bar after a drink or two.
A man who knows the dictionary definition of a stalker, will know all of your states stalker laws and how to obey them. They also probably know a lot more about you than you would expect.
Sadly, this list is only the tip of the iceberg.
I Might as Well Start Dating Again.
Nov 29th
Yesterday, was just not one of my best days. It wasn’t fun. Maybe it was some kind of holiday blues.
Last night I went out to dinner with the kids and my babies daddy. Which was very nice but because I was stuffed, there was none of the normal Saturday night, taco bell or frosted flake excitement here at my house.
I got home before 7, plopped on the couch and pouted for a few minutes.
I get bored easily, so it wasn’t long before I pulled out my notebook, and started plotting sweet revenge on all that have caused me harm this week.
Within a few minutes I was doing the crazy lady Laughing Out Loud, which quickly led to literal Rolling On The Floor Laughing My F…ing Ass Off (I haven’t decided yet if I want to be dropping a lot of F-bombs on my blog. I would do a poll but it seems my daughter is the only one who votes. By the way Wednesday and Pugsley won, more on that later), again all by myself.
Since I was off the couch anyway I went ahead and starting making up my own “ultimate revenge cheer” Spartan cheerleader style, followed by a little bit of beat boxing and freestyling that my dog really seemed to like (she is deaf. not def! deaf).
By the time I was done, so was my bottle of wine, and SNL was the Gerard Butler (coincidentally, a different Spartan) rerun, which made for some pretty sweet dreams (FYI, more wine and the 300 dvd are on my wish list this year).
While my Saturday nights, with no kids, are pretty awesome in the moment, I’m starting to regret things in the morning.
Another Wild Saturday Night
Nov 22nd
One of the best things about being a single mom, whose awesome, incredible amazing babies daddy has the kids half the week, every single week?….I get to eat frosted flakes for dinner while I watch VH1s Tough Love (which, instead of rolling my eyes and yelling “whatever!,” I should probably pay a little closer attention to because I am genuinely excited about a bowl of cereal for dinner on a Saturday night).
One of the worst things about being the only adult in the house?….When I discover the empty gallon of milk in the fridge, after I have already filled a serving bowl with half a box of frosted flakes, I have to admit that I might have been the one who put it there. On top of that, there is no one here to convince that they are the thoughtless, irresponsible one who better go to the store and get me a gallon of milk!
At least I remembered to hide the oatmeal creme pies from the kids this week.
Professional Spectator
Nov 14th
Today has been a very big day. Today one of my very best friends (meaning one of the very few people I can stand being around for more than ten minutes at a time) Meriel, ran her very first marathon. To me running a marathon is one of the biggest achievements of a persons life. It’s huge! I am so proud of her!
I wanted to show her how proud I am by being there to cheer her on the whole way.
To get ready for the race, last night, I spent two and a half hours plotting a detailed map of the marathon route, comparing Meriel’s running time to our travel time, including getting the kids in and out of the car. I also gathered up the noisemakers, charged the camera and called my ex, Ben, no less than 12 times, reminding him that we all had to be ready to go at 8am sharp.
Today, race day, things might have gotten a little out of hand.
7:00am Open my eyes to daylight, immediately freak because I never oversleep, jump out of bed, shower, and dress (in many layers of course, in case of cold or rain) 7:27am Call Ben to remind him to bundle the kids up. No answer. More panic. 7:29am Call Ben 6 more times, still no answer. 7:36am Check my bag 3 times to make sure I have noisemakers, camera, wallet and phone. Grab an extra whistle, just in case. 8:03am Arrive to pick up Ben and the kids. Run in the door, blow my whistle and jump around like a baboon. 8:05am Put extra sweatshirts under the kids coats, I don’t want them to get cold. Assure them I have extra noisemakers for them in the car. Grab a rubber chicken squeeky toy, just in case. 8:08am Thank Ben for making signs, even if they are a little small. 8:11am Ask bothe children 4 times if they need to go potty before we go. 8:20am Learn dollar store bag of noisemakers make no noise. Freak out again because there is nowhere to stop for more without getting stuck in traffic. 8:25am Arrive at the 4 mile marker with a plan to stop for more whistles before our next stop. 8:27am Take off the kids extra sweatshirts, it is too warm. 8:30am Embarrass Savannah and scare Jackson with maniacal cheering. 8:39am Terrified we’ve missed her, there are so many runners 8:43am Interrupted, by Meriel, in the middle of a “discussion” with Ben about how high to hold the sign with Ben. Thank goodness, she was not going to let us miss her. More maniacal cheering, right in her face. 9:05am While stuck in traffic on the way to our next stop realize we have left Bens travel coffee mug, that he had to put down to hold up his sign, on the sidewalk. Even though he asked me to remember it. 9:10am Give children candy to help get them pumped up. 9:21am Stop by Ben’s house because everyone does have to use the bathroom after all and to get another coffee. 9:42am Ben thinks I have missed my turn, I don’t think so but turn around anyway. 9:47am Turn around again, I knew I did not miss it. 9:55am Stop at railroad crossing to wait for the train. 9:59am Longest train ever, begin to panic. 10:06am Find a perfect parking spot at the 13 mile marker, pointed in the right direction to get to our next stop. Feeling better. 10:21am ”Discussion” with Ben about the easiest place to cross the street. 10:24am Maniacal cheering, with Savannah this time. Jackson is now embarrassed. More candy. 10:26am Savannah drops whistle in a puddle in the gutter. Wipe it off and try to give it back to her. Ben grabs it and suggests I calm down. 10:28am Consider running into CVS to get a “snack” (more whistles) but wallet is in the car. 10:29am Spot table with free clapping hands noisemakers and grab 7, almost knocking over a woman with a cane and a toddler. 10:34am Put Jackson on my shoulders and cheer maniacally while being hit in the face with free hand clapping noisemakers. 10:46am See Meriel running with her mom, SK, who jumped in to keep her company for a few miles (awesome!!). Start jumping up and down like a possessed baboon, whooping at the top of my lungs. 10:47am Hold up signs so SK can get pictures, all the while yelling “WHOOOO! RUN! MERIEL!” right in her face while she stood there looking confused about why she was stopping. 10:48am Yell “WHOO! KEEP GOING! WHOO! RUN!” while SK assured her she would catch up after taking our pictures (my kids are that cute) 10:53am Inform my family that the fun is over, its time to get serious. Our next two stops are close together and we have no time to spare. 10:55am Another “discussion” with Ben about where to cross the street. 10:56am Let family know that I am sweating, hoping that tearing off my sweatshirt, hulk style, will remind them not to irritate me when I am too hot. It doesn’t work. 10:57am Jackson is ready to go home and Savannah is hungry. 10:58am Remind them that “fun time is over, we’ve got to hustle” 11:03am Realize we have left another coffee travel mug that I was supposed to remember on the street. 11:07am “Discussion” about which toll lane I should be in and when I should turn on my blinkers. 11:08am Remind Ben that I drive every day and usually do fine with no help. 11:09am Take the wrong exit off the interstate, turn around and take the wrong exit back on, taking us right back where we were. 11:14am Sadly give up on stopping at mile 17, but relax because we have plenty of time to get to mile 20. 11:16am Ben mentions the speed limit on the exit ramp. 11:17am Fit of turrets that causes me to miss another turn. 11:18am Illegal U-turn 11:19am Reprimanded by ungrateful children. 11:20am More turrets. Miss exit again. 11:35am Stop at Ben’s, which he tricked me into believing was on the way, for more coffee, snacks and another potty break. Jackson falls asleep in the car. 11:45am Find perfect parking spot in a fast food parking lot. Ben thinks we will be towed. He is wrong but I move the car, proving that I am better and smarter and more generous. 11:48am Wake Jackson and immediately shove M&Ms in his mouth. We don’t have time for crabby three year olds. 11:52am Give a few free hand clapping noisemakers to some little girls holding a sign that says “Go, Daddy, Go.” So cute, but my kids cheer louder. 11:55am Maniacal cheering, with both children. 12:01pm Start to get nervous we have missed her. 12:11pm See Meriel and SK, who ran with her daughter for 9 miles to keep her company during the race (what a great Mom!), once again jump around like a possessed baboon, whooping at the top of my lungs. 12:15am Go back to the car, take away all noisemakers, including the rubber chicken and throw them in the trunk to help allieviate the road rage. 12:23am Miss the toll basket causing them alarm to sound. 12:24pm Reprimanded by ungrateful children and ungrateful ex. Road rage was not alleviated. 12:29pm Pull into parking deck where I can’t figure out how to get a ticket. Is there such a thing as parking garage rage? 12:32pm Try to decide whether I should hit an Escalade or the brick wall in order to fit in my enormous gas guzzler into a tiny parking spot. 12:35pm Whole family climbs out on the passenger side because I have parked 2 inches from the brick wall. 12:43pm Make an emergency stop for both children at the port a potties. They have miraculously developed a sudden ability to hold it when they walk in and learn what happens to peoples stomachs after running 26.2 miles. 12:47pm See family members in the crowd, including my first cousin Lewis (also Meriel’s first cousin, so we are kind of related but I don’t know what you call it. Cousins-in-law?) who finished the marathon in 3 hours 8 minutes and 58 seconds, qualifying for the Boston marathon! Fortunately, I am paralyzed with fear that I am going to miss Meriel crossing the finish line, so I don’t do my baboon impression. 12:49pm Abrubtly stop chit chat and drag my children by their wrists through the crowd to get a spot close to the finish line, shouting at Ben to catch up. 12:52pm Get situated in a perfect spot by gently nudging a couple of small children out of the way. 12:53pm Maniacal Cheering. 12:55pm See a better, less crowded spot on the other side of the street. 12:56pm Grab Savannah by the shoulders and use her to bulldoze through the crowd before anyone else gets that spot. Loudly suggest to Ben that he should pick up the pace. 1:00pm Wait, so I don’t get in the way of a woman taking a picture of her daughter who just finished the race. 1:01pm Remind myself how impressed I am that this girl just ran 26.2 miles in order control my strong compulsion to grab the camera and throw it on the ground. She is taking up the whole sidewalk!! 1:02pm That lady dodged a bullet. 1:06pm Arrive in the perfect spot and began cheering maniacally. 1:09pm Begin fearing I have missed her again. 1:11pm Turn around to discover SK is standing right next to us. Relieved we haven’t missed Meriel. 1:17pm SK spots Meriel in the distance. Get cameras ready. 1:19pm Turns out it is not Meriel but woman who might be twice my age. Try to get a picture of her to show Meriel who her mom mistook for her. Her reaction will be funny. 1:21 pm Maniacal Cheering 1:25pm Begin to panic that Meriel has injured herself since the 20 mile mark. 1:26pm Finally see Meriel. 1:28pm Try to take pictures of her crossing the finish line while jumping up and down like a possessed baboon and whooping at the top of my lungs.Meriel finished her first marathon in 5 hours, 28 minutes, 10 seconds.
At lunch I learned that this was also my cousin Lewis’ first marathon (it seems like he has been a serious runner since he first learned to walk, so I just assumed it wasn’t the first). When I was not able to use my “indoor voice” to control my enthusiasm it dawned on me that maybe I was wound a little too tight today.
Finally, I would like to say congratulations to everyone who ran the Richmond marathon and the Richmond half marathon today. I saw a lot of familiar faces and I was rooting for all of you. Even the ones who looked the other way and pretended not to know me, I understand.
Why Boys Are Dumb
Oct 14th
Today is the first official Word Wall Wednesday. I realize that makes two in a row but the whole point is to encourage routines and not put off until tomorrow what I can do today blah, blah, blah. I would also like to keep with the parenting theme and I am afraid that because my ex and I are getting along very well these days my kids are going to start to get the wrong idea about relationships with the opposite sex. I have to thank my parents for instilling in me such a strong fear of commitment and I can only hope that my babies daddy and I can do the same for our children. Its time for us to keep our healthy, positive communication to ourselves and think about our children’s futures. Hopefully through constant bickering, insulting each others family, upbringing and values and of course avoiding physical contact like the plague we can show our kids the dangers of romantic relationships. My personal feeling is that children should only be allowed to have fulfilling relationships when they have shown they are responsible enough to pay for their own therapy. In order to keep this educational for an eight year old girl, I’m calling it why boys are dumb.
- Boys who drive muscle cars are not nearly as cool once you sober up.
- If a boy wants to give you a gift then he was definitely not watching football with the guys until 4am.
- Don’t be too embarrassed when your high school soulmate who you used to watch chick flicks with introduces you to his husband.
- If you tell a boy where you live there is a strong chance he is hiding outside in the bushes waiting to watch you sleep.
- When he doesn’t call you can always sit at home and eat pie with Mommy.
- If a boy really wants you to meet his mother run for the hills.
- Boys only laugh when you dive butt first into the toilet in the middle of the night because they left the seat up.
- No matter what they say it will not be the hot wings a boy will gape at when he suggests you go on a date to Hooters.
- Remember that everything happens for a reason before you take pity on a boy who tells you the story about his ex-girlfriend coming at him with a knife.
- Before you get too excited about doing the electric slide at your wedding think about what that cute little boy is going to look like bald, except for his ears and nostrils, carrying 50 extra pounds but still wearing the same suit to a job that is going nowhere even though you gave up your scholarship to Harvard to wait tables while he finished college and raised his children while he worked on his so called career all to end up hooked on sleeping pills because his fat ass snores likes a water buffalo because that is what you are going to be stuck with for the rest of your life.
One to Scratch Off the List
Jul 10th
I have decided to add “get over my fear of commitment” to my bucket list and I think its a great place to start as there is obviously no physical activity involved. Also William Shatner is getting up there and I think I need to be prepared to settle down if he ever does happen to look me up. I thought the best place to start would be with a self help book. I love those things. Its so much easier to just skip the chapter on halted emotional growth than to stick your fingers in your ears and sing “I’m not listening!” when you are talking to a therapist, wasting an hour of your life, a thirty dollar copay and risking being asked to leave the premises. Or worse yet being “asked” to stay for a 72 hour “rest” when your therapist is running an hour and a half behind just when you are getting ready to make a breakthrough on your explosive anger with the receptionist. Unfortunately Books-a-Million is right next to Total Beer and Wine and as I’ve mentioned before I am very easily distracted. Thank goodness for google. In reviewing some of the symptoms it seems as if I am a classic commitmentphobe. Attraction to unavailable men, overly critical and unrealistic ideals, fear of lost options. But then there was this: “fear of making poor decisions” Silly me I don’t even have a problem.
Never Again
Jul 9th
I drink. Heavily sometimes. I think I can hold my liquor pretty well. I take a lot of pride in the fact that you can’t usually tell I’m drunk until I fall flat on my face. I think it’s genetic. Most times I stick to beer or tequila and I am able to gauge my buzz as I go. Unfortunately this is not the case when I am drinking wine. I can’t feel it usually well into the second bottle, by then its way too late and I am the spitting image of Jeff Richards character “Drunk Girl” on SNL. I’m not sure why every once in a while I still drink wine maybe its something I will figure out in some future AA meeting. I can say though that last night I was able to stop at one bottle (all that was in the house) and I will never do that again. Sometimes it’s just best to drink until you pass out. Even in my dream life I make the worst possible decisions. But just in case my dreams are prophetic and anybody wanted to fix me up with a guy in a house arrest ankle bracelet those things are really annoying and I’m really not that desperate. Yet.
Damn Eddie Bauer
Jun 8th
Over the weekend I broke my sons carseat and had to get a new one. I am usually a do it yourselfer but I could not figure this thing out. I took it to my babies daddy’s house to get some help i.e. have someone to scream at since I was not going to be able to find the woman who sold it to me at 8pm on a Sunday. He suggested I take it to a firestation to have it installed. What an ass! He knows I would have to drive over an hour in any direction to find a firestation where I would not run into anyone I have gone out with. I cant call 911 either. I have dated a lot over the last year and at least 90% of those dates have been with cops and firefighters. It has nothing to do with men in uniform. Emotional unavailability and the fact that my life is not nearly as screwed up as what they see everyday is very comforting. Hopefully, I am over that stage. I have a full tank of gas so I’m off to have my carseat installed and maybe get some plans for the weekend.
