My therapist told me I should start a blog. So, here I am! In hopes that my blogging efforts will lead to discovery as my emotions spill onto the keys of this laptop, or perhaps even a position that pays me to do so? Ah, wishful thinking....
Now here I am, beautifully broken, mother of 2, entrepreneur, recovering addict, survivor, dreamer. That's me - Betty. Names will be changed, to protect the innocent of course. Single mother to....let's call them Romeo and Juliet. My oldest, Juliet just celebrated her 10th birthday a couple of months ago. She loves the colors pink and purple. What little girl doesn't, right? She comes home from school either happy that she got along well with friends, or sad because yet again they have fought and are not longer speaking. They'll make up tomorrow, no doubt. Yesterday I pulled in front of her school to pick her up only to see her limping to the car. As she saw me watching the limp became more pronounced. Honestly I couldn't tell which leg she was favoring, yet I could see where this was going. Now she threw in a little shoulder action, one rotating forward in time with the limp, then the other. I lean towards my window and whisper, "Oh Lord, here we go." Ah, the joys of raising a girl. I'll never forget the day a few months ago when she came bounding from the bathroom, squealing with glee as she exclaimed, "Oh my goodness I have a pimple! I'm an adult!" All in a moment my heart filled up with joy for her. The realization that my daughter is growing up, she'll be a woman before I know it. Her excitement was contagious. I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but it was not a pimple. And by the way, pimples are not something a person is generally fond of once they begin to take over the smooth beauty that once was. I laughed with her for a moment before a sadness drifted in. I pondered the unwelcome feelings and determined that the battles of child-rearing can be so overwhelming when single parenting. However the loneliness of having no one to share these little moments of joy with are often more unbearable.
When once I thought my days of experiencing a bigger family were drifting away, surprise! Along comes my little Romeo. Sixteen months old and such a boy in every way. Wow, it's been so long since there has been a man in the house. It just occurred to me the other day that soon my floors will no longer be filled with baby toys, but rather replaced with cars, drums, and various toys that growl and shoot missiles. My little angel whose face lights up when we pull in the drive as he says, "Ki-Ki, Ki-Ki." Poor kitty waits anxiously by the door for our return. Now he runs in terror as little Romeo chases him and slaps wildly, as he knows nothing yet about gentleness. Morning person that he is, he rises happily 5 minutes before my alarm rings every morning. The remainder of my day is spent in hot pursuit of this little creature that can light up a room with his smile and tear it apart in under 5 minutes in his curiosity and destructiveness. I chase him around with a diaper and clothes until I can finally wrestle him to the ground to clothe him. Several times I will shout up the stairs, asking Juliet if she is almost ready. While my back is turned Romeo has ripped 2 keys from my laptop. We finally set foot outside where I unlock the doors to the car and try to bend my son into his car seat as he arches his back, twists up his face, and hollers. Part of our daily routine, I'm not sure why he seems so surprised and angry that once again he must be strapped in before we can leave. I drop Juliet off, reminding her to have a good day at school and promising to be back to pick her up in 7 hours. Off to the sitter's house where my son proclaims, "Ruff,ruff, ruff." "Ah, yes. Ruff, ruff, ruff. You want to go see the puppy?" We walk in and he wrestles around on the floor with little fur ball. After visiting for a solid 20 minutes, possibly the only adult contact I will have all day, I set out the door. Free at last. Heading home, relishing the sound of music coming from the stereo. Uninterrupted by cries of, "Mom!" For a few brief moments I am free of titles and responsibilities until I pull up once again in my drive and walk in to my home/office.