Category Archives: Going Solo: Single Parenthood

Going Solo: Single Parenthood, imagination, life lessons, Uncategorized

Goodness.

Tonight when I told Bella it was time for bed, she grabbed her blankie, marched upstairs, brushed her teeth, and went to the potty. She did this all on her own.

She then asked if she could play quietly for a little while and if I would sit in her room with her and read while she played. I agreed.

She got out several sets of toys: her Montessori sorting bears, her Big Hero 6 figures, her construction truck, and her safari animals. I watched her and was stressing about the mess that would need to be cleaned up.

She played quietly for about 30 min. I told her it was getting late and she needed sleep. Without help, she carefully cleaned up each set of toys and put it back in the shelf. She then gave me a hug and kiss and climbed into bed.

Everyday I thank God for letting me be this child’s mother. Everyday as a parent has been a lesson. Many days have been extremely hard. Many have made me think that I am not made to be a parent and I am convinced that, like many things in my life, I am failing horribly at this. I didn’t always want kids. I was happy working with them and I was happy being an aunt, but I thought the responsibility of actually having my own was probably more than I could handle.

I often wish there was an instruction manual that would tell me how to do this right. I screw up. A lot. I’ve made my share of mistakes as a parent. For some of the bigger decisions I’ve had to make, there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t doubt whether I made the right choice.

This kid though, this beautiful vibrant miracle, she proves me wrong over and over. She defies the odds. She does the right thing. She loves and laughs and forgives constantly. She is brilliant and witty. She is creative and independent. She is so strong and brave and confident. She is growing up so quickly and does something everyday that amazes me.

Though I often doubt myself as a parent and quite frankly as a human, she is a constant reminder that I did and am doing something inherently good and right in this world. That, for me, right now, is all I need.

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gardening, Going Solo: Single Parenthood, imagination, life lessons, writing

My Daughter is a Horse.

My daughter is a horse. I don’t mean she eats like a horse or looks like a horse. I mean she is galloping around the living room on all fours shaking her head and neighing like a horse. She leaps from couch to coffee table pretending she is leaping over a canyon with a rider on her back. She will only tell me once that she is a “running horse” and then I must understand her. She will stay in character for up to 30 minutes sometimes. She remains focused and true to her character and never breaks. She has carefully studied hours of videos of horses and intently watched horses in real life to perfect her character.

At first I thought it was annoying when she wouldn’t talk to me while in character or that she watched so many horse videos. I kept thinking, “ Gah! I have a weird 3-year-old.” But then, as happens a lot now, I learned something from her. She doesn’t just say “I’m a horse” and then act silly around the living room. She commits. She studies. She will not break. She practices daily. She experiments with how a horse might move on steps or furniture. She reacts to our dog and cat as a horse might react to them. She pulls grass from our yard or on our walks and pretends it is hay for the horse to eat. Her focus and commitment is incredible.

I want to be a writer as much as my daughter wants to be a horse. The difference is I just say it, or don’t say it all but think it, and then I go about my business of doing everything except writing. I am just jumping around life being silly and not having any commitment to my passion. How many of us say we want to do something or be something and then fill our lives with silly things that have nothing to do with what we truly desire? When did we lose that sense of play and of really truly wanting to BECOME something. When we were children and played firemen or police officers or queens, we committed to those roles. We really believed we were those things and we gave it our all.

I recently visited the house I lived in in rural Alaska. We lived on roughly four acres of land in a mostly birch forest in a fairly tiny house. There was an old chicken coop on the property that my siblings and I had turned into a play house. My memories of this place ended at age 10 when we moved. I remembered a white birch forest where the trees almost glowed. I remembered our small patch of grass as a brilliant green and the trails through the woods leading into magical lands of adventure. The old chicken coop was massive and looked like the home of the fairy queen. At night, the Aurora Borealis would dance across the tops of the trees with every color of the rainbow and hiss and crackle at us and we stood below it in our pajamas and moon boots. We could see every star and planet in the galaxy. They were so close we could almost touch them. As an adult, I walked around our old property and everything was just brown. There are a scattering of birch trees, but other trees are there as well. The chicken coop was tiny and not the least bit magical. The place from my memory was nowhere to be found. When do we stop seeing the world as a magical place? When does it suddenly become cynical and ugly?FullSizeRender (5)

Life is magical to my daughter right now. She understands play and imagination. She looks at our mess of an urban back yard and calls it our “secret garden.” She finds the tiniest flower growing from the tiniest weed and jumps with joy screaming “momma, look a beautiful flower!! I’ll pick it so we can put it on our table.” My initial reaction is to protect her from the cynicism and ugliness that I see as an adult. As I have been observing her and recognizing my own sadness, however, I think I am going to take a different approach. Instead of trying to protect her, I’m going to let my imagination come back. I am going to welcome her with open arms. I am going to join my daughter as she neighs and gallops and I’m going to see the magic in our little backyard.
And then I’m going to write about it because that is what writers do.

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood, life lessons, Run Momma Run

get up.

Four and a half years ago I ran my fourth half marathon. Two days later I found out that I was pregnant. I was a runner first and foremost. It had become the most important part of my life and I had fallen in love with every race and practice run. Running was the first img_2820thing I thought about when I woke up and it is what I planned on doing as I fell asleep each night. I had run two full marathons, four half marathons, a ten-miler, and countless 5Ks all in the span of about 4 years.

After I had my daughter, I got back to running pretty quickly and even got my body back. I began dreaming of the two of us running together across that first finish line. Then, shortly after her first birthday, things started falling apart. Life changed drastically for both of us and the running me seemed to disappear. The fun loving careless me disappeared too. The fearless me disappeared. The anxious and depressed me took over. My career and my daughter were both wonderful, but other things got out of my control and I just shut down. I shut down completely. My body, mind, and spirit all took a hit. Until a few weeks ago, I was pretty sure I would never fully recover.

Then, we lost a close family friend. This was a man who has been a mentor and pastor when I was in college and who had been an inspiration to my entire family. At his funeral I thought about the fact that there would never be anyone who could replace this man. He had a way of reaching you at your lowest and showing you how to rise up. Through stories told at the funeral, I was reminded that we all fall down at some point. If we are human, it is inevitable. The important thing is getting back up. This pastor was gifted at meeting people at that point and helping them get back up to finish the race. I wished I could talk to him one more time because I knew he would know what to say to help me to get back up. I fell down two years ago and I have been down too long.

When you are a solo parent of a toddler and you work full time, finding time to run, or work out at all, is nearly impossible. Finding “me time” in general is almost unheard of. When people tell me to take time for myself, I scoff. The other thing that is impossible, however, is being a solo parent and not asking for help. Trying to do everything yourself is a great way to completely burn out. Over the last few months, I have been slowly asking people for help. Family and friends have stepped in and fed my daughter, watched her for a few hours, taken her to school, and invited her for play dates.img_2818

Today was one of those days. My daughter was invited to a play date for the morning with the understanding that I leave her there. So, I laced up my running shoes, drove to my beloved Kelly Drive and walked 4 miles as fast as a snail!! It was sunny and beautiful and freezing cold and it felt amazing. Every biker, runner, walker, and Canadian goose passed me on the trail and I did not care one bit. I listened to the playlist I made for that half marathon four years ago and I remembered the me I used to be. Since I tried my first  bootcamp spinning class two days ago, my legs were solid blocks of painful cement that buckled at every incline, but it didn’t even matter. My body, mind, and spirit were up and moving together for the first time in years.
So, after months of not writing, here I am again. It is not to boast or gain pity. I am here for accountability. I am a writer and I am a runner. If I am truly going to “get up,” I must img_2821do both. This post is about as good as my sloth-like morning stroll, but it still feels great because I am not lying in a heap on the floor under my computer. I’m sitting in the chair and I’m ready to write again.

 

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gardening, Going Solo: Single Parenthood, Uncategorized

raw and open

Eight years and a few months ago I told a friend that I couldn’t imagine being happier about life and more excited about my future. I felt amazing. I was in the first semester of Grad school, I had just moved into a new house, I had gone from being a couch potato to running races and practicing yoga regularly, I had a new job as the executive director of an organization that brought me joy, and I was in the beginning stages of a new relationship with the first man I ever loved. I felt like I was on top of the world.

Then, like a sledgehammer to the skull, we got the death sentence diagnosis for my dad. He was dying. That’s it. There was no hope given. They could help him live a couple more years, but cancer would kill him and it would kill him soon. My dad. The man who lived his life serving others and would literally talk about what he would be doing when he was 100. He enjoyed life so much that it was contagious to be around him. He had already had cancer twice before and would joke about it. “I don’t get sick, I just get cancer,” he would say with pride.

A church friend recently talked about a garden being the metaphor for our lives and God being the Master Gardener. I have taken this idea and used it to help myself work through this season of my life. As I have highs and lows with my literal garden, I see the parallels with my life. Before the diagnosis, my garden was lush and full of herbs, flowers, fruits, and vegetables. Heck, there were freaking butterflies and honeybees fluttering around. You get the picture?

My dad’s diagnosis was the first nasty weed. What followed was three years of watching my father struggle and hope and eventually die. My relationship of three years, the one that was supposed to last forever, died four months later. It was a relationship that might have lasted had it happened at a different time in my life, but sometimes grief has a way of killing things in its path. Three months after my relationship died, I  jumped into a summer fling with a man who I thought I knew and who I thought was an old friend, only to find out he was a complete stranger, was not at all who I thought he was, and I was left to face a pregnancy and eventually parenthood, alone. My lush happy garden slowly rotted and turned into a heaping compost as I blamed the Master Gardener and kicked him out.

Even moments before my daughter was born, I was sitting in the middle of my compost pile thinking the garden and life I once had would never happen again. I was admittedly, angry, hurt, defeated and hopeless. Then, the moment they put that baby girl on my chest and I saw those crystal blue eyes, a small but strong bud popped out of my heap of mush and began to bloom. Trying to keep this “bud” alive and blooming has required months of fighting a broken legal system, three years of pinching pennies and constantly worrying about money, learning how to ask and accept help, and inviting the “Master Gardener” back in.fullsizerender-3

A few days ago, in my actual garden, I spent the entire morning pulling up weeds, removing broken glass, ant hills, and dog poop, and pulling up dead tree trunks. It was the end of a weeks-long project that I was starting to think would take the rest of my life to complete. As I stood in the sun covered in sweat and dirt, I felt the most amazing satisfaction seeing the raw and open earth that I uncovered. It was ugly and beautiful at the same time. Aside from a single strand of purple Morning Glories, everything that had been there was now gone. I immediately started to cry. This garden was me.

My neighbors told me that this garden was once home to beautiful grass, vibrant rose bushes, and lush green trees. After years of trials and neglect, it became the weed covered trash-ridden lot that I purchased a few months ago. It was so bad that one of my neighbors suggested it was beyond repair and I should just fill it with concrete and call it a day. What it is teaching me, however, is that nothing and no one is past redemption. Like my garden, I reached a point in my life where I had to realize that in order for that one flower to grow and flourish, I would have to rip out all that was old, dig up the soil, remove the trash, and start again with new seeds. I would need expert advice and help with the hardest parts of the job. Most importantly, I had to stop focusing on what once was and what I thought it “should” look like. I have to accept what has happened, mourn any loss, and focus on each seed as new life grows and a whole new garden appears.

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood, life lessons, Preggers

savor.

The following popped up in my Timehop today. It is from August 30, 2015. First of all, I cannot believe a year has gone by already. Bella starts her second year of school next week and I still remember the shock on her face when she took her first steps. I remember how she felt as a tiny infant snuggled up on my chest and sleeping on my belly. I still remember those first tiny kicks that I felt inside me. What a joy this journey has turned out to be. What a surprise it is to find out this little human chose me as her mother and I never realized just how much I needed her in my life. I only wish it would all slow down because I want to savor each of these moments for a little longer before they end up as yesterday.

I read this and I want to remember it and I know a lot of people can relate:

August 30, 2015, 10pm

I’m listening to Lumineers, packing up The last of Bella’s baby clothes, and crying. Tomorrow is the first full day of the first full week of school for her. School. This life goes way too fast. A month less than three years ago,  I found out she was coming into this world. Three years. That’s it. It seems like it was last week. I have learned so much about life and about myself in that time; definitely more than I ever learned in all 20 years of school. I have learned what I am capable of(and that it’s more than I ever imagined) I’ve learned what is truly important in life, and why love and forgiveness are way more valuable than any hatred or anger or. I’ve learned that money and things mean nothing in this life. I have learned to stop planning and just live. I have learned that chocolate hand prints on my wall are just as awesome as my art collection and that there isn’t a bad day in the world that can’t be cured by a toddler smiling ear to ear, yelling “mommy,” and running into your arms at the end of the day. I’ve learned that loving and supportive friends and family are a rare and priceless thing to have. I’ve learned to really give: my heartFullSizeRender (2), my money, my time, and that giving is the secret to why any of us are here in the first place. I’ve learned that having a child is a gift and should never be taken for granted. I’ve learned to give thanks for that gift endlessly. I’ve learned that being there for Your child and giving her your time means more to her than any toy or material thing you can give her. I’ve learned that even a two-year-old can show compassion and love beyond measure. And finally, I’ve learned that happiness is a choice, and when you choose it you realize that your life is suddenly easier and better than you ever knew it could be. So, thank you to all of you who have been and are a part of our life. Bella and I give thanks everyday for the people and love we have in our lives. We consider ourselves very lucky. The last three years have been the best and most exciting years of my life and I cannot wait to see what our future has in store for us.

And it’s all still true!

 

 

 

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood, life lessons, Losing Dad

bella blooms.

I’m not going to make it a habit of blogging more than once a week, but since I am determined to do this and do it right, I think I should provide a little background to the blog as reference. I started by moving my old blogs over to this site so I have everything in one place. While writing has always been my passion, I started the blogging five years ago when I found out my dad had only a few weeks left to live. It helped to talk about it even though it often exposed some pretty intimate emotions publicly. As someone who has suffered on and off with anxiety and depression, I have a strong belief that being public about emotions is healthy and much better than bottling things up until we break. Or worse, faking happiness and perfection.

The blogging continued to be helpful through my pregnancy and my favorite part of that process was my inbox full of stories from other parents.  I felt like I joined some new club and it was wonderful to find out that no one in the club was perfect and the stories people shared were mostly about times they had royally screwed up. Personally, I feel like those are the kinds of stories we should share more publicly. My social media feed is full of posts about how great and perfect everyone’s life is, but hearing the weird and unpleasant stories, especially when we can laugh about them, is richer and a little more fun.

It is what makes us human.

I’ve been on a hiatus from blogging for a variety of reasons, but I am excited to get back to it. I live alone with a 3-year old, an old grumpy dog, and a cat who was born without balance or grace. As if that isn’t enough, I am a parent and a person who constantly makes mistakes, but is able to laugh at myself daily and walk away believing I am still an ok person despite my numerous flaws. My goal for this blog is to share a little about solo parenting(both toddlers and fur babies) and a little about my attempt at bringing the country girl inside me into my very Philly back yard.

Six months ago, I bought my first house. It is what I consider the best of both worlds. It is still less than five miles from the heart of Center City and no more than a 10 minute drive. Yet, it is still far enough out of Center City that we rarely have to deal with tourists or politicians disrupting our daily lives. The house is an old Philly row home that is original on the outside and completely flipped on the inside. It feels like a brand new house, but unlike many of the new condos popping up around the city, it was built in a time when things were built to last. It has survived over one hundred years of hurricanes, blizzards, floods, and heat waves. I was looking for a classic and although I originally wanted everything on the inside to be the original work as well, I must admit I am starting to like the facelift the house had before I bought it. I’ve never lived in a house where no one else has used the appliances or bathroom, or even walked on these floors. It makes it feel even more like it’s really mine. The biggest thing that sold this house for me, however,  was what was outside: a huge fenced in backyard that is rarely found in this area. I have a raised lawn that is 30’ x 10’ surrounded by a substantial patio all shaded by a massive Magnolia Tree. It is not the acreage this Central PA girl would prefer, but it is just enough to give me a place surrounded in green.

So, the down933F7610-DD2A-4D86-B54F-AD3BF5C9190Cside to this yard is that, like the house, it was abandoned for 6 years. Squatters filled it with garbage and with each rain, more “treasures” surface. To date, I have found diapers, a beheaded statue of Mary, shattered wine glasses and China, Christmas ornaments, broken toys, the rusted contents of a tool box, nails, cigarettes, cobblestones, pieces of a railroad, casino chips, bricks, and other random trash. Now you are probably wondering why I would want a house with a yard in this condition. The fact is that when I came to see the house, I looked outside and saw the incredible potential for the space. As I sift through it one shovel at a time(using my dad’s gardening tools), I find interesting pieces of the past and the good earth that still lives below the surface. My goal with this space is to fill it with clover and surround it with a container garden and some raised beds. This project will take a long time and since I am not an experienced gardener and barely have any idea what I am doing, I expect things to get interesting and most likely frustrating.
I see the yard as a physical representation of my life. I think that’s why I love it so much. I have also gone through some rough years and have some garbage to clear out of my life as I begin growing something new. So, as I figure out how to keep a kid, two pets, and some plants alive and growing, I’ll fill you in on the fun parts. 

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood, life lessons, Run Momma Run

Love thyself.

When I was pregnant, I took extra special care of my body. I quit smoking, quit drinking, cut way back on caffeine, walked regularly, drank tons of water, ate mostly organic, covered my skin in coconut and almond oil daily to avoid getting stretch marks, slept as much as possible, and listened to a lot of empowering and happy music. After Bella was born, I nursed for 22 months. I got back into running, ate even more organic and stayed away from processed foods. I only occasionally drank and when I did, it was minimal. I slept when I could and tried to keep a positive attitude despite some challenges that came with getting used to taking care of another human being. I lost all of my pregnancy weight plus some and felt amazing.

Today I visited a friend’s pool at a high end apartment complex. The majority of people at the pool, even moms, looked incredible, fit, and happy. I looked down at my body and saw a year and a half of weight gain from eating crap, drinking way too much, and not even attempting to run again. I looked at my hairy legs and my messy hair and realized I hadn’t even showered in two days. It was clear my skin hasn’t seen a drop of lotion in a long time, let alone be covered from head to toe in oil. I also can’t remember the last time I did yoga or just sat quietly to read a book or listen to Bach’s Cello Suite.

Why is it that so many mothers do this to ourselves? We take amazing care of ourselves while pregnant and nursing because we want to ensure a healthy baby. Then, as the child begins coloring our walls and peeing on our rugs, many of us begin to give up to some degree. I can’t even count the number of times I have heard fellow moms joke about how long it has been since they have been on a date, taken a shower, gone out with their spouses, or eaten something other than goldfish and macaroni. This morning my beautiful 3-year old daughter reminded me that the massive treadmill in our living room is there for me to use. She is clearly aware of the fact that I haven’t been on it in a while and thinks that it’s probably time. It suddenly occurred to me that this precious baby still needs me to take care of myself in order for me to take the best care of her as well. Just because sh13920434_10153856682582005_6364152617981029699_oe’s not in my body anymore doesn’t mean that body no longer needs some attention.

I often use the excuse that I just don’t have the time. I work full time and am a solo parent. Like just about every other parent, I am busy. However, in the last two years, I somehow found the time to watch the entire series of about 20 shows, drink at least 100 boxes of wine, and eat enough cheese to fill the Packers’ stadium. I clearly have the time. So, today I came home, did a massive clean of my house, showered, shaved my legs and pits, sat down with a cup of tea, turned on Bach, and began typing. One of the things I also used to do was write. I wrote all the time and it was fun and therapeutic. I have not been in a good emotional place in the last couple of years and if I was being completely honest, I would admit that they have been the hardest and darkest years to date. Writing is my art form. It is how I have always best expressed myself and how I have worked through the good and bad in life. Since I stopped writing, I felt less connected and less like myself.
So, here I am writing again. As I work towards getting back to healthy and figuring out how to find my abs between boxed wine and a block of cheese, I’m going to dust off the book I never finished and share my new adventure here with anyone who is interested. My goal for now is to drink less, run more, meditate and practice yoga, eat more things that don’t come in boxes, cans, or bags, and write, write, write. 

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood, Uncategorized

Parenthood: 10 Things

I am closing in on almost two years of being a parent. When I found out I was pregnant, I came out of the bathroom, hugged my friend (now Bella’s Godfather) in a state of complete disbelief and went right back into the bathroom and laughed. Hard. For about half an hour. I suddenly understood the Old Testament story of Sarah laughing when she found out she was finally pregnant. It is not, as some would think, something to cry about. A surprise child can only mean good things are coming. For me, I was at an interesting time in my life. In less than a year, I lost my father to cancer after a 3-year battle and the almost 4-year relationship with the man I thought I would marry had ended. I was running daily, doing yoga, drinking too much, and for the first time in my life, thought it might be fun to have a casual summer fling. I thought all of these things would help me deal with the pain I was feeling and get me back into life somehow. Grief has a funny way of turning your life upside down, especially when cancer is involved. Anne Lamott says when you lose someone to cancer, it’s a like an atomic bomb goes off in your family. Your entire life explodes and you do everything you can just to feel again. You find yourself standing there in the rubble with no idea where to start to rebuild your life. At the time, even destructive behavior somehow feels like maybe it will help.

I was also at a point in my life when I wasn’t sure I could have kids. After all, let’s be honest, even in 2012, 34 was considered a little late to be starting in on the first child. If a woman reaches her mid 30s and has not had children, the possibility and hope for children begins to fade and she starts focusing on other things that will make her happy and fill up her life. It’s dumb, but it happens. Believe me. Furthermore, I wasn’t sure I even wanted kids. Being an aunt is WAY easier (and cheaper) and you still get some of the same rewards. I definitely didn’t know if I had any idea what it took to be a parent, let alone a good one.

But, there she was, this squiggly little bean on a sonogram with that huge heart just beating away. That’s the moment for a lot of us when we just say, “ok, let’s do this!” So I did.

And, so far, I have loved every minute. My daughter is my joy. She has brought nothing but love and light into my life and she teaches me something new everyday. So, with my third Mother’s Day only a few days behind me, I decided to share a few things I have learned so far. Last time I did something like this, people added to my list and I loved the additions, so please feel free to share. Life is a constant education and the happiness and comedy that comes from lessons in parenthood is worth sharing.

  1. Time goes so quickly. Spend every moment you can with your child. You will never get these moments back.
  2. Always coordinate spaghetti night with bath night. Trust me. This goes for Guacamole night also.
  3. Don’t buy a new sofa or furniture when you are pregnant. Despite all your efforts to protect it, your toddler WILL figure out how to destroy it. Enjoy the pen and crayon marks and the juice stains. It gives your furniture a distinctive character. It’s practically a piece of art. When your child is a little older, you can treat yourself to a whole new set of furniture.
  4. Let your child make a mess. Let them and see the beauty in it. In less than two minutes, Bella managed to cover herself, the cat, and the entire kitchen and dining room with cornstarch. I didn’t even know we had cornstarch. It was such a huge mess that I couldn’t do anything but laugh and take photos! Then I spent the entire morning cleaning it up. Which, of course, caused Bella to laugh. Things you think may annoy you or make you mad just don’t when your child is involved. In fact, there was almost a little pride inside me that day!
  5. You can do this! Even when you’re at your wits end and it seems like everything is going wrong, you will find that somehow, everything works out exactly like it’s supposed to. Money or time might be tight. Your child may be having an endless tantrum. Or maybe you feel like you will never get to the bottom of the pile of dishes or laundry. I am a marathon runner. There is a point in marathons when you hit a wall. For me, it is mile 22. You just feel like you cannot do it. It happened for me again when I was 26+ hours into labor. I wanted to give up. This WILL happen in parenthood. Then your child grabs your face with both hands, squeezes your cheeks, and gives you a big kiss and “I uv you Mama!” All the sudden, your second wind comes and you finish the race, push out that baby, or put away that last dish or pile of laundry. Children have a funny way of being the oxygen we need right before we’ve taken our last breath.
  6. Be flexible. When I found out I was pregnant, I learned that I had to throw my plans out the window. I stopped worrying about what life was “supposed” to look like. Life amazes me everyday and by going with the flow and accepting the gifts life gives you, you will find that the world is a brilliant and incredible place.
  7. Turn off the TV. Go to the park. Color. Play with blocks. Dance. Your kid will love it and you are in a unique place in life where you get to act like a kid right along with them and no one will judge you for it. Embrace that and soak it in while you can.
  8. Tell your kids you love them. Tell them often. Tell them several times a day. If they get in trouble at school or at home, tell them you love them anyway. Hug often. There are enough assholes in the world. Don’t create another one. When children know they are loved and accepted, they will love and accept others. As parents, we have the power to create a generation of loving compassionate people and it doesn’t cost us a thing to do so!
  9. Don’t compare your child to other children. She (or he) is going to walk when she walks, talk when she talks, and learn at her own pace. Capture each “first” and enjoy it! Stop worrying about whether she is at the right development stage. I wanted Bella to walk so badly and talk so soon. Now I can’t keep her still or quiet! I miss the earlier stages and wish I had soaked them in a little more instead of worrying what came next. Now I’ve made it a rule to just learn and enjoy each day as it comes. You’ll be surprised at all the little cool things they do each day when you’re not thinking about what will happen tomorrow.
  10. Listen to your child. Listen. Listen. Listen. Bella sings to me and talks to me constantly. I barely know what she is saying to me most of the time, but I put down my phone, turn off the TV, and give her my full attention. I’ve worked with teens now for almost 15 years as either a counselor or a teacher. The biggest thing I’ve learned is that they just want someone who will really listen to them. Be that someone for your child. It is never too early or too late to start.
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Going Solo: Single Parenthood

What it takes to be a Mom

Today I said the words, “I’m Bella’s mommy.” They came out so quickly I didn’t have a chance to think about them. That sentence is one I never thought I’d say. It felt good but awkward to say them. I’m a mom. I’m a mother. This is huge!

When a baby is born, the first six months go by in a flash. Life smacks you in the face and you either crumble or you roll with it. I immediately put baby to breast, changed diapers, took a zillion photos, rocked her, held her, tucked her in. A lot of it came without much thinking. God knows I didn’t have enough sleep to think even if I wanted to. Everything happened so naturally and so quickly that I didn’t have time to realize that I AM ISABELLA’S MOMMY!

In the last 36 years, I have been a daughter, a sister, an aunt, and a girlfriend. I’ve introduced myself as all of these things and have been proud to do so, but to say I’m Bella’s mom is possibly the best way I could ever introduce myself. It feels so right and like something I’ve earned.

I became a mom in September of 2012. That is when I found out I was pregnant. I think, at least for women, this is when we become a parent. We decide to keep the child and then we begin making hundreds of decisions on how to care for that child. From the food we eat to the workload we take on, we are already deciding what kind of mom we will be before the child is even born.

In my case, I had a healthy pregnancy and a memorable birth. And when she was born, my life entirely changed. For the last seven months, I have nursed her, stayed up all night with her, taken her to the doctor, made her food, changed her diapers, washed her clothes, bathed her, picked out a daycare and then got up early every morning to take her there. I have wiped her tears, sucked out her boogies, given her medicine, and I’ve rocked her to sleep. For the most part, I’ve done this on my own.

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She chose me and I accepted. Now I have started to think about our next steps. What will it be like when she starts saying “mommy?” She is going to be a little girl very soon and I’m terrified about it. As long as you feed and love a baby, they adore you. A little girl has opinions and a voice. She asks questions and wants answers.

I always thought there were all of these things I had to do before I became a parent. In my case, however, there was no prep. Bella was an incredible perfectly timed surprise. I welcomed her, but was terrified and totally unprepared. She pulled me out of the murk and continues to make me a better person everyday.

Today I faced her father. He is a man I once admired, and yes, I will admit it, I loved. If you’ve read this blog, you know that he has chosen to be absent from the pregnancy, birth, and now his daughter’s life. For the most part, I have left him alone because there is no reason to chase or pester a man who cannot take responsibility for or acknowledge his own child.

Today I did something I didn’t want to do. I walked into a conference room and I fought for my daughter. I was scared, angry, and so very sad that this is the current situation for us. But I did it because I know it’s what is best for her. This is the essence of being a mother. You ignore the knots in your stomach and you set your emotions aside to do the one thing, even if it scares you, that you know is best for your child.

So when I introduce myself as Bella’s mommy, what I’m really saying is “I am stronger, happier, more compassionate, more loving, more reliable, more responsible, more giving, wiser, and less selfish, because this little girl snuck into my life at the perfect moment and made me that way.”

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood

Why I shaved my legs this morning

I am about to get really honest. I started this blog to be honest and sometimes honesty is not pleasant, so I’m just going to say it. This is long, but something I have to get off my chest. Midway through my pregnancy I joined an online mommy group made up of women who were all due sometime in June 2013. Some of us had our babies early, some of us had our babies late, but all of us shared common worries, joys, tears, and laughter. Now, we are sharing pictures and advice on Instagram and Facebook and have hashtagged ourselves “junemommies.” I love these ladies. Though I have never met any of them in person, I feel very strongly connected to them and dream that one day we will all get together for a big picnic with our little ones and expand our virtual friendships into reality.

The junemommies are made up of older moms like me, younger moms, first time moms, and moms with 5 kids. There are single moms, married moms, divorced moms, lesbian moms, and moms who live with live-in boyfriends. Some of us are wealthy and some of us aren’t. Some of us are educated, some haven’t finished high school. Some of us go to work and some of us stay home with our children. There are arguments and disagreements about different aspects of parenting, but for the most part, we all seem to get along. What brings us together is the fact that being pregnant and then becoming a mom is a scary but exciting thing no matter who you are or where you are in life.bells

Yesterday, one of the moms posted something about shaving. I won’t go into detail since I consider our mommy discussions confidential, but the discussion that followed, silly as it may have been, just brought me out of a funk that I have been stuck in for a year. I scoffed when I saw something about shaving because I don’t even think about shaving anymore. I tried about a month ago and only had the time for one leg, so I just gave up all together. Why bother? There is no man in my life right now, so I am the only one that sees anything. And dating seems unfathomable at this time. I am still breastfeeding, so between nursing and pumping, I feel like a cow most of the time. The little pooch that appeared during my pregnancy is still there and my belly, quite frankly looks like I’m 5 months pregnant, only is soft and sagging instead of tight and wiggly. Parts of my clothes fit and parts do not, so getting the right sized pants to fit legs that haven’t changed but hips and a waist that have expanded or a shirt that fits my normal sized arms and my now porn star sized breasts is daunting to say the least. Not to mention the fact that as a single working mother, all I want to do at the end of the day and on the weekend is go home and snuggle with my daughter; right after I do laundry of course. My daughter takes up so much of my heart right now, that I don’t even know where I would find room for a man in there. Not to mention that any desire to be with a man has been gone for months.

Here is where I am going to be completely honest. While I was pregnant, I wore cute dresses, kept my brows waxed, exercised, did my hair and make-up every day, and shaved. As much as I hate to admit it now, I kept thinking that Bella’s father was going to “come around.” I had fantasies that he was not a true narcissist, but just a guy who was scared to be a dad. I thought he would see one picture of her and suddenly become the perfect father and we would co-parent and be great friends again and all would be right with the world. I was telling people that I hated him and I hoped I never had to see him again, and all the other things people expect from someone trying to be strong despite falling apart inside. In truth, until you have carried the child of a man who at one time said you were soul mates and who now wants nothing to do with you or your child, you will never understand the insanity that goes through your mind and heart. I don’t think I ever wanted to be with him, but something told me that if I just remained attractive enough, he would want to be Bella’s father and do the right thing. As if all of his actions or lack thereof, depended on how I looked. Even though I am in my mid-30’s with a graduate level education, I was still stupid enough to think everything would be different if I was just more attractive.

When it was clear that he was never going to show up again and no level of cuteness from me or my daughter would bring him to his senses, I gave up. I wear the same jeans or yoga pants every day, topping them with a t-shirt or maternity sweater, my hair is almost always in a ponytail, my eyebrows could compete with Bert or Ernie’s, my face rarely sees an ounce of blush or foundation, shaving is something I used to do, and I have come up with every excuse under the sun to eat more chocolate and never exercise. In essence, I am behaving like a woman defeated; a victim. Somehow that post about shaving opened my eyes to this.

So, this morning while Bella napped, I took a shower, shaved, plucked my eyebrows, and washed my hair. While Bella is taking her nap this afternoon, I will reacquaint myself with Jillian Michaels. But I am not going to do any of this because of a man. You see, that is the thinking that comes from a society that tells us that our outer appearance is what makes us worthwhile. That thinking corrupted my mind into believing that there was something lacking in me that caused this incredibly broken man to walk away. It is that kind of thinking that has wasted hours of time focused on matters relating to him that could have been spent really living. The fact of the matter is that I am a loving, caring, intelligent woman who is funny and open and who was born to be a mother. I have had to make hard decisions and sacrifices that I never imagined in the last 16 months and I have grown exponentially as a result.

Maybe I will meet a man someday who will end up being a wonderful father to Bella and the spouse I was always meant to have. Maybe I won’t. Either way, from now on I will shave and shower and exercise because it makes me feel good about myself and I want to set a positive example for my daughter. I will not do it because of a man. I want Bella to know that she is beautiful because of the fact that, like every human being, she is fearfully and wonderfully made, and this beauty exists no matter who her father is or what boy or man gives her attention.

So, shave away sisters! Get that Brazilian wax and get your hair did. But even if it’s just once, don’t do it for your husband or boyfriend or wife or girlfriend. Do it because you are a woman and a mother and you deserve to feel good about yourself. We are all beautiful and beautifully made and sometimes we need to bring out the razor and tweezers to remind ourselves of that truth.

And if any of my junemommies are reading this, Thank you!

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