Things I've learned this week...and it's only Wednesday morning

If it's too early to drink, it's too early for an unannounced ex husband visit.

Things that could've gotten you chopped up in little pieces and buried in a backyard in your twenties get you smiles and stories in your thirties.

Even when you think you're making a private joke, your oldest kid knows you're really talking about the one hot teacher in the whole middle school...and she laughs too.

Playing hard to get is more effective when you aren't actually playing.

As soon as you figure out your kid's currency, they switch it up.  Today's overpriced clothes are tomorrow's....who knows.

Ending a relationship ensures that your song will play every 3.4 seconds - no matter the station - and the roads will suddenly fill with his vehicle.  But saying a silent f you every time soothes the sting.

When your friends find happiness, it makes you want to table dance and give nicknames.

Even if you don't see the desired results, completing a workout every day feels like an accomplishment... Though feeling the six pack abs would be nicer.

Not everything has to be sexy.  Seriously... People should stop trying all the time.

Gentlemen still exist, but they take some getting used to.

And, finally, just remembering the bottle you bought after that unannounced visit makes the 6 am texts from the ex husband more bearable.

Not a good match

For months I'd heard it, "That'd be perfect for you!  You should try that!"

For months my response was the same, "As soon as you do, I will."

Well meaning friends.  Just trying to help friends.  Looking out for me friends.  But not one of them wanted to sign up, and I knew it.  So, it wasn't a risky maneuver the I will if you will was really the I won't have to because you never will.

Until one of them did.

One of the most beautiful, successful, smart women I know signed up.  And she reminded me of my promise.

Match.com

We swore we'd never tell anyone.  We even have a story we worked out in case one of us (*she) met the man of her dreams.  But the lessons I gleaned from my blissfully short stint online "dating" are too valuable not to memorialize.  Following are the most profound lessons/warnings/giggles...

} The first thing you have to do is describe yourself, in detail.  Apparently, most women use this space to describe themselves via the early 90s or after they finish the insane exercise regimen they've always wanted to start but haven't yet found the time to.  You must include pictures...those of sunsets, pet llamas, and Backstreet Boys days are frowned upon.  I'm not kidding...every single person I met in real life (and no, that wasn't many, but still) they all were surprised I looked like the pics and description I put up.  

} Next, it's time to describe him, in detail.  This I found to be very difficult because, what if.  What if you're absolutely sure he's a tall, college educated, English speaking, 28-39 year old; but, he's actually a 5'8, multi lingual, 42 year old, self taught computer genius?  So, I was very vague in my requirements for him.  In fact, as long as he was at least my height and old enough that no one would mistake me for his mommy or his granddaughter, I didn't specify.  And, really, if you're so picky that he has to be 7'3" with purple hair, gold eyes, an athletic build, a ten figure salary, and three extra toes - well, you deserve to grow old with your cats and old copies of Murder, She wrote.

} Now, you're up there for everyone to see.  Give it about 12 seconds (I'm still not kidding) and the attention starts pouring in.  One minute you're a normal woman, walking through life relatively anonymously...then BAM you're the hottest thing around.  I really couldn't stop laughing at the silliness of it all.  If you're vain enough to believe it, good for you!  The rest of us know someone just rang the dinner bell because fresh meat was thrown on the table.  

} Every. Single. Man on there reports himself as "athletic and toned".  Now I'm no statistical or genealogical or even dietary expert; but if this is a wide swath of the available men in my area, than all of the average, overweight, and obese men we see out and about are all taken.  This leaves all those poor, neglected gym rats and sporty types with not a chance in the dating world, relegating them to sites such as these.  Or.... The boys are as big of fibber, fibber pants on fire as the girls.  I leave the final judgement up to the women who agree to meet these fine, upstanding gentlemen in the light of day.

} You will find yourself with the most odd assortment of characters.  At one time, I was "talking" to...and this is not an exaggeration... A car salesman, a civilian contractor living overseas, a perpetual student, a doctor, a factory worker, a business owner, a construction contractor, an electrician, and several military members.  Where are you ever going to find that kind of plethora of options outside of The Sims?  

}  No matter the age, race, height, body type, or hair color, 9 out of 10 first emails contain the same phrase... "Hey cutie".  Coincidentally, 9 out of 10 first emails are not replied to.

}  Remember Step 1?  That long profile you put together spouting all of your better qualities and artfully deemphasizing your less than stellar points?  You were so uncomfortable and it felt so egotistical and you worried that he would read it and think you were a snotty brat.  Yeah...no one reads that.  They look at the pictures and decide right there.  I was thisclose to changing my profile and sneaking in random sentences confessing my fetish for orangutan hair and secret desire to move to Idaho and start a sweet potato farm just to give myself a giggle.

Did I meet some decent people?  Absolutely.  

Were there some moments of well, maybe...?  Yes.

Was my time filled with entertainment and head shaking?  Yes and oh, yes.

Will I miss it?  Not even a little.

My imposed sentence of online dating wasn't the worst way to spend my time in purgatory.  It forced me to open up to possibilities that I normally would've eyebrow cocked at and scared away.  And, if nothing else, now I know that isn't always the best answer.

Meanwhile, my gorgeous, smart, successful friend is deciding if she'll need our concocted story... and I'm back to waiting for Mr. Right to appear on my doorstep.

Today I become the parent of a teenager. I don't think either of us is ready for that.

Dear Sofia,

As I write this, you're still sleeping away your birthday morning.  This, in itself, is new for us.  Every morning of April 6th for the thirteen years preceding this one, you've been up and full of energy bright and early.  Now, as a certified member of the angst club, you sleep more and there's a discernible drop in energy levels...to say the least.  My oh my, how things have changed.

Gone is the extra little kid fluff that made you look so young.  Gone are the days of snuggled in Disney movies.  And, gone are the days when I could say anything without an eye roll or a foot drag or the most infuriating shoulder slump.  The kid who made things easy is long gone.

In her place, I get the kid who is going to change the world.  You read books like they're air, you believe in things so truly that you almost make others believe,  and you are as loyal a friend as anyone could dream of.  Yes, you and I battle daily over everything; but secretly....very secretly, I sometimes want you to win.  I want you to change my rock solid mind sometimes just so that I can see how you will shape the world.  Unfortunately, you seem most determined to work on my hygienic standards, and those are pretty rigid.

Truly though, I know the kind of kid you are.  I know how lucky I have it.

You're kind and giving.

You're smart and thoughtful.

You're loyal and dedicated.

You're talented and hardworking.

You're becoming an involved sister.

You're proving a fierce advocate for your mama.

You're learning to accept people as they come.

And, you're doing it all with a wicked sense of humor and a laugh that swallows the room.

I love you, kid.  Through the tears and the drama and the war we'll be waging for years to come, I love you like no other.

Always, 

Mama

So, you want to date a single mom?

Let me start by saying there are two kinds of single moms.

1.  The kind that are doing it right, the best way they can.

2.  The other kind.

An easy way to tell the difference:  if they are out every night, dressed to impress, dropping everything to get your attention - there's a kid (or twelve) somewhere who only ever hears "I'll be back" from the woman who barely glances in their direction.  I'd advise you to avoid this type of woman for multiple reasons, but do what feels right to you.

Now, assuming you've chosen the first kind of single mother, you're going to need some insight you can only get from a mama doing it on her own.

1.  You're not number one.  Sure, you're cute and charming and can do things for her no one else can.  You are a prize, no doubt.  But she already has a number one (or several) and that position will never be reassigned.  Ever.  Nope...not even after you do that one thing she really likes.  Best you can hope for:  a distant second.  

2.  She's busy.  Maybe you're a single dad who sees his kids a couple days a week, maybe you're a doctor with a full patient load, maybe you're IronMan.  You're still not as busy as she is.  Until you've started every single day at 4 am, finished a full (non-mother) days' work by noon and still have ten hours of raising children and keeping a household running ahead of you, you can never know how busy she is.  Yes, she'd love to stop in the middle of her Wednesday evening and join you for drinks. I mean, she would kill for it.  But she has soccer practice and dinner and homework and...well.. You're already bored just reading the list so we will stop there.  Suffice to say, she'd make time for you if she could, but she won't take it from her kids.

3.   Be prepared to be patient.  In every way.  

On her blessed weekends free to give to you, she first has to coordinate with the father to pick up the kids.  He'll be late.  Just to be inconvenient.  She can't control that...be patient when she's late for the reservations you made.  Order her a drink, she's going to need it.

She'll get a zillion calls and texts from the kids.  She'll respond to each and every one.  Doesn't matter where you've taken her or how much you paid for that dinner, it'll get cold while she listens to the play by play of the cartoon her kid is watching.  She isn't any more interested in that show than you are, but she'll take the call anyway... Be patient and understand that she is ignoring everyone else for you.

She won't introduce you to her kids right away.   Of course she likes you, of course she hopes it works out, of course she knows it would be preferable to not sneak out before the kids wake up.  But she will gladly shove you out the door if she thinks she hears the stirring of little yawns.  She'll take chances with herself, but never with those kids.  You have to earn that invitation.  And it's harder to get than a White House invite, so don't hold your breath...be patient.

4.  She won't trust you.  For a long time, if ever.  Single moms have been, by and large, hurt.  Badly.  By someone they trusted enough to commit a lifetime to.  Most single moms aren't in that position by choice.  They carry the scars of someone the way they now carry that person's burden.  And, they will protect their world by any means necessary.  If you want it to work, you have to be ready to prove yourself over and over and over and over.  It's not fair to you, no, but it's a fact of dating a woman like her.  She knows you aren't him, but she's even more sure of who she is now.

5.  She's loyal.  Single moms don't have time for games that don't include colored cards or hungry hippos.  If she says something, she means it.  If she does something, it wasn't an accident.  If she chooses you, you're in.

6.  She's strong, but not invincible.  She's proven she can restart.  She's proven it to herself, her ex, her kids, and everyone who doubted her.  She has absolutely no desire to prove it again.  She's shown the world that she can do it all on her own, but she wouldn't mind your help.  She may seem hesitant, but the shoulder you offer is the lifeline she needs.  She's not going to ask, but your humble offerings save the day.  

7.  She can appreciate you in ways others can't.  She's probably seen the worst of people.  She probably knows exactly what nothing feels like.  So, she truly and wholeheartedly appreciates every inch you give her.  Small, quiet, unassuming gifts of you will never go unnoticed.  She doesn't need everything you own - only everything you are.

8.  If you get her (and her kids), you've hit the jackpot.  Whoever was there before you is missing out on every level; and, more than likely, he's somewhere kicking himself for it.  She's strong and smart and capable and loving and good...and you got her.  Those kids are strong and smart and fun and loving and good... and you get to be a part of it.  There's not a luckier man than you.  

All that's left is to appreciate your prize and reap the benefits of stealing a single mom off of the market.  Congratulations....now go do that one thing she likes, she's had a long day!

Miracles

I had a complete, screeching, sobbing, incoherent, breakdown last night.

It was ugly.

And it was stupid.

A clogged toilet.  

But not over the fact that it was clogged.

Not that it's clogged at least three times a week.

Not that, once again, no one told me it was clogged.

Not even that, once again, at least one person used it after it was clearly already clogged.

No.  I was melting down because I couldn't pass this ridiculous chore on to someone else.  Because I've never been able to yell out "Honey, could you help me with this please?".  Because there's no one around to say "hey, it's my turn.  I got this".

And, last night, I just wanted to have a better half.  Hell, I'd have settled for a half-assed half.

But that's not my path anymore.  Instead, I pulled myself together, unclogged the toilet, and moved on to the next task.  The next chore I can't share.  The next problem I don't have the Y chromosome for.  The next insurmountable mountain.  

And I handled it on my own; without the benefit of that storied extra set of hands, I performed the next miracle.

Because, single mamas, we know miracles.  We are masters of the slight-of-hand magic that others never see.  We got this.

Not every miracle is one they name saints for.

Sometimes the miracle is holding our eyes open though the entire story our kid just has to tell us well past bedtime.

Sometimes it's the birthday present they were sure we couldn't get them.

Sometimes it's a feast we saved up weeks for.

Sometimes it's figuring out the air compressor that's been dormant in the garage for two years so that we can air up the ball for driveway soccer.

Sometimes the miracle is showing up at school with the homework that was shoved behind the dresser.

Sometimes it's getting dinner on the table in record time so that she gets to practice in time to show them how it's done.

Sometimes it's keeping a roof over their unimpressed heads and clothes on their ungrateful behinds.

And, sometimes, the miracle is unclogging the toilet for the third time in as many days.

We single mamas may not necessarily want to be miracle workers, and we may be failing 64.8% of the time.  But, it only takes one miracle to keep the ship afloat.

And, sometimes, the miracle is that we don't just jump off that ship and let ourselves drown.

Mistakes made right

I made a mistake tonight.  One I've never made before and was completely out of character for me.  We missed a soccer practice.  Anyone who knows me knows I am anally early to everything.  Whether I want to be there or not, I always arrive ridiculously early everywhere we go.  Until this evening when we were 57 minutes late to an hour long soccer practice.  I felt horrible.  It was Maya's first practice of the new season, and mama messed up.  

But it was a beautiful night.

And we were already dressed for soccer practice - Maya and I in cleats, Eva and Sofia in sweats and tennis shoes.

So I asked the coach if we could borrow one of the team balls so we could practice a little on our own.

And we spent the next 40 minutes having the best night we've had in a LONG time.

We took over half a soccer field and we ran that grass raw.  We never stopped laughing and smiling.  

At one point, I looked around at the other fields where teams of little ones were practicing.  The kids were running and smiling....the parents were standing around bored and tuned out.  And, all I thought was: "Wow.  What a wasted opportunity.  Smile, damnit!  Get out there and chase your kid down the field!  Laugh, for God's sake!  Kick a ball with the little one waiting for her brother's practice to end!  Stop rolling your eyes at me!"

Yep, Eva and I belly bumped every time we scored on her sisters.

Yep, I trash talked my six year old, edited for content of course.

Yep, we yelled like crazy South American futbol champs every time we were awesome (which was pretty frequent, of course).

And, yep, we were absolutely having a better time than you.

Listen, life is hard.  It's stressful and trying to carve out time to just play can feel impossible.  I get it.  On our way out the door this evening, I was yelling at Maya because she couldn't find the jacket she had just taken off.  I was ready to pull all of my hair out.

Then we were 57 minutes late.  And, I could've kicked myself all night for it.  I could've gotten back in the car and driven back home to get back to the colossal heap of responsibilities that await me.  

But I would've missed the flushed faces of three happy kids.  I would've missed the intense feelings that only come from those tiny moments of "I'm doing this right".  I would've missed the best night we've had in longer than I care to say.

And that, so much more than the missed appointment, would've been a mistake.

And, I'd bet my shiny new soccer cleats that every one of those other kids would've lit up the field if their parent had run in for a high five.  I know all I heard from mine on the car ride home was "mama, that was the best family night ever!  Let's do that again!".  

Who knows, maybe we'll be late again next week...

A friend of a friend

A friend of a friend grew some feelings recently.  She put down her gloves and she unlocked her door and she let someone step inside.  As soon as she did this, her fear overcame her.  The moment the extra feet passed the threshold, she invited them back out.  See, she tried and tried to clean up the mess left behind by the last intruder, but there was no bleaching away the marks of a brutal death. The guest promised to wait while she freshened up, though.  So, she took a breath and started to fix up the place.

A friend of a friend saw the chance to change her path recently.  She tried really hard to walk like the new crowd and talk like the new crowd and believe like the new crowd.  She looked around at all of the smiling faces and, despite never having been one, she made it her goal to blend in without anyone noticing her effort.  "These people", she thought "they have so much to show us."  So, she put her head down and guided her little posse into the stream.

A friend of a friend was reminded recently.  Reminded of what she already knew.  Reminded of the scars she couldn't erase.  Reminded of how unfair lessons can be.  Reminded of why she stopped believing in magic.  Reminded of people who dress themselves in the costumes of sincerity and promises.  Reminded by the unseen change of seasons and the way the air suddenly disappeared from the room.

A friend of a friend.  Yes, she was familiar by face but I forget her name.  This friend of a friend of mine was a stranger in all but the way her voice echoes in my head.  A friend of a friend whose face I don't recall, but the creases in her back remind me of a map I once memorized.  And, as she walks back down the one way road, I remember what our friend once said... "Sorry about her, she just needs to do it alone."