This is what Hunter (4) had to say:
1. What is something mom always says to you?
I Love You Crazy!
2. What makes mom happy?
me
3. What makes mom sad?
When I'm not here
4. How does your mom make you laugh?
By telling jokes
5. What was your mom like as a child?
Ummmm....I don't remember, let me go see (runs to ask Nana)
6. How old is your mom?
9
7. How tall is your mom?
69 feet
8. What is her favorite thing to watch on TV?
Noggin
9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
Tries to look for me
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
Being pretty
11. What is your mom really good at?
Hide and seek
12. What is your mom not very good at?
Tag
13. What does your mom do for her job?
Make money
14. What is your mom's favorite food?
Mexican
15. What makes you proud of your mom?
Loving you
16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
Daphne on Scooby Dooby Doo
17. What do you and your mom do together?
Ride bikes & love
18. How are you and your mom the same?
Because that's how Jesus made us
19. How are you and your mom different?
Because you are a girl
20. How do you know your mom loves you?
Because I am your best baby
21. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
The beach
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
"Soccer Mom"
Let me start off by saying I’m not your average mom.
I didn’t end up with some payout in a divorce settlement. Basically, I was left with my clothing and some kitchenware after my divorce.
I was also forced to move back in with my parents at the age of twenty-six. Sounds fun doesn’t it?
While I appreciate their generosity, it's just not where I had pictured myself or my son. At this point in my life I had hoped that I could provide him with more, unfortunately fate had other plans.
I'm currently working on a new blueprint.
I now live on the in a little brink house up on a hill. Some women around here are either rich housewives or former housewives who are still rich through hefty divorce settlements.
Obviously, I don’t fit either of these descriptions.
I’ve come to accept this fact, but it still annoys me.
Every time I step outside my doors to go shopping or take my child somewhere, I’m reminded of everything I lack.
I don’t have a swanky SUV or abundance of money.
A few months ago I took my son to his first day of soccer. From the moment we stepped on the field I could feel the lines drawn between myself and most of the other mothers.
Their fancy clothes, and well manicured nails adorned with diamond rings, separated us into two different worlds.
And it wasn’t just their physical appearance that divided us; it was also how they interacted with their children.
They didn’t.
This would've been less disturbing if their kids were older, but this particular group was for four and five-year-olds. Most of them were nervous and scared, looking to their mothers for reassurance.
Yet, as obvious as this was, the majority of these women still socialized while their kids wandered. It was as if the actual idea of bringing their child to soccer wasn’t for their child’s benefit, it was more for theirs.
Am I just naïve in thinking that these types of activities are really for children? Did I miss the memo that said they are merely a cover up for adult interaction?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for meeting new people and socializing, but when I signed my son up for soccer it was for him and not me. When he struggled on the side lines during practice, I was there encouraging him, not ignoring him while I gabbed to my girlfriends.
It got me thinking: Where do I fit in here, will I ever, and more importantly, do I want to?
Chances are good that I’ll never be rich, drive an expensive car or own a pair of Louboutin heels.
Maybe it's single parent guilt, but I feel I owe my son my undivided attention. At this point, I'm not willing to compromise that.
I have my set of values, and other people have theirs. I’m hoping someday soon I'll bump into another woman in the area that share in mine. Until then I'll be the mother on the sidelines cheering for my son, sans makeup, in my t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.
I didn’t end up with some payout in a divorce settlement. Basically, I was left with my clothing and some kitchenware after my divorce.
I was also forced to move back in with my parents at the age of twenty-six. Sounds fun doesn’t it?
While I appreciate their generosity, it's just not where I had pictured myself or my son. At this point in my life I had hoped that I could provide him with more, unfortunately fate had other plans.
I'm currently working on a new blueprint.
I now live on the in a little brink house up on a hill. Some women around here are either rich housewives or former housewives who are still rich through hefty divorce settlements.
Obviously, I don’t fit either of these descriptions.
I’ve come to accept this fact, but it still annoys me.
Every time I step outside my doors to go shopping or take my child somewhere, I’m reminded of everything I lack.
I don’t have a swanky SUV or abundance of money.
A few months ago I took my son to his first day of soccer. From the moment we stepped on the field I could feel the lines drawn between myself and most of the other mothers.
Their fancy clothes, and well manicured nails adorned with diamond rings, separated us into two different worlds.
And it wasn’t just their physical appearance that divided us; it was also how they interacted with their children.
They didn’t.
This would've been less disturbing if their kids were older, but this particular group was for four and five-year-olds. Most of them were nervous and scared, looking to their mothers for reassurance.
Yet, as obvious as this was, the majority of these women still socialized while their kids wandered. It was as if the actual idea of bringing their child to soccer wasn’t for their child’s benefit, it was more for theirs.
Am I just naïve in thinking that these types of activities are really for children? Did I miss the memo that said they are merely a cover up for adult interaction?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for meeting new people and socializing, but when I signed my son up for soccer it was for him and not me. When he struggled on the side lines during practice, I was there encouraging him, not ignoring him while I gabbed to my girlfriends.
It got me thinking: Where do I fit in here, will I ever, and more importantly, do I want to?
Chances are good that I’ll never be rich, drive an expensive car or own a pair of Louboutin heels.
Maybe it's single parent guilt, but I feel I owe my son my undivided attention. At this point, I'm not willing to compromise that.
I have my set of values, and other people have theirs. I’m hoping someday soon I'll bump into another woman in the area that share in mine. Until then I'll be the mother on the sidelines cheering for my son, sans makeup, in my t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Once upon a time...
I guess if I am going to start a blog…..I should tell “our story” from the beginning. It’s definitely NOT your average fairytale….but believe it or not, it is my fairytale. My prince is 4 and he is the very reason why I breathe.
“I’ll get a job when I need to,” he would say.
Then there was also his complete unwillingness to improve our relationship. I didn’t want to give up the chance, a fat chance, but still a chance that maybe he would be a better husband once the baby arrived. Some men do change. He wouldn’t. It actually just got worse.
When I was five months pregnant I started working on the nursery. My mom, sister, aunt & cousin came over and helped as much as they could. I could not have done it without them.
Boxes were everywhere. I did what I could. After work I’d come home and unpack. Soon I had managed to clear every small box and scoot every light piece of furniture and even decorate most of the walls. But there were still piles and piles of boxes too heavy for me to lift. Days went by and the boxes sat there. Every night I would ask him to move them and every morning I’d wake up and they’d be in the same spot.
Finally I started crying, pleading with him – practically begging, “Can you please just move them? I’ll tell you where they need to go.”
“Why? Why right now? I’ll get to it,” he yells from his spot on the couch.
And then it happened. He picked up a heavy medium sized box and threw it at me. The box barely missed my pregnant belly and hit me in the knees. I kept my balance and then, shocked by what just happened, felt a little scared. I realized that I actually didn’t know this man at all. I didn’t know who he was when we got I married and I didn’t know him now. But I was pregnant with his child, “No,” I remember thinking, “This is not his child, this is my child.”
For the remainder of my pregnancy I focused solely on myself and the baby. I would read & talk to Hunter while he was growing, patting my stomach and telling him everything was going to be okay. Meanwhile my relationship with my husband continued to deteriorate. The fights and the violence continued and one night he actually pushed me – belly and face forward – into the steps. I caught myself with my arms saving the baby from the impact. I didn’t tell anyone about it. Not a soul. I was ashamed that I was married to such a creep. I couldn’t leave him though. Not then, not while I was pregnant. Instead I chose to play the happy little wife to keep everything calm and relatively peaceful.
I had been playing the guilt cards delicately in my mind, avoiding reality for too long and in turn, effectively overlooking it all – giving myself one reason or another to stay.
And then my moment came. He was pounding on our bedroom door. My body was pressed up against the wood, my cheek against the grain. Hunter was nestled in our bedspread – listening to it all. Yes. He couldn’t understand. But then it dawned on me – if I stayed with this man, my son would one day grow up and speak to women this way, or worse, treat me this way.
And that was that.
Having no father at all, or one who is barely around, can’t be worse than living with a father like this. And if this was what marriage was like, or my marriage – then I’d rather be single and alone.
Was I really going to give up my entire life or any chance of happiness just so my son could have a father in the house? Did I want Hunter to grow up with miserable parents who were only together for him?
For some women this is possible. For me – not an option.
So I did it. I left him.
I left my husband when my son was 16 weeks old. I left him on a Wednesday. My baby had surgery on Friday, 2 days later. My husband didn’t show up. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even call.
I was now a single mom. I took it one day at a time. I didn’t think about the future or how I would get back on my feet. I just buckled in for the ride.
I know there are so many women out there in horrible marriages, sucking it up for the sake of their children or because they have no way to leave him financially and it’s those women who my heart really goes out to. Sometimes I look at my life in two alternate universes or scenarios. What if I would have stayed?
I can’t even imagine…
After a year of being in and out of court, going thru custody, divorce, child support….it was finally over. He decided, in the end, that he didn’t want Hunter after all. And he certainly wasn’t going to pay child support. So, I had to go back into court and file for his rights to be terminated. I had to prove to a judge that I was stable & that I was capable of being a mom & a dad. And I did just that! I had an unbelievable support system. My parents & my sister held me up more than once. I would not be where I am today with their love and support.
When you are a single mom it’s hard to find time to paint your toenails, let alone go out on a date. We don’t have time for rules or drama. We also look at men differently. They could look hot in that pair of jeans but will they be a good father? Would they be a good husband? We also have to let go of our past and move into the future without the fear of being hurt again. There aren’t any clear answers and what we find on the other side of our journey is a mystery until we get there. We’ll definitely hit a few bumps and maybe a pothole or two.
The first time I thought of leaving my husband I was 22 weeks pregnant. He was unemployed and spent his days parked on the couch, or fishing & hunting with his dad, without a care or worry in the world.
“I’ll get a job when I need to,” he would say.
Then there was also his complete unwillingness to improve our relationship. I didn’t want to give up the chance, a fat chance, but still a chance that maybe he would be a better husband once the baby arrived. Some men do change. He wouldn’t. It actually just got worse.
When I was five months pregnant I started working on the nursery. My mom, sister, aunt & cousin came over and helped as much as they could. I could not have done it without them.
Boxes were everywhere. I did what I could. After work I’d come home and unpack. Soon I had managed to clear every small box and scoot every light piece of furniture and even decorate most of the walls. But there were still piles and piles of boxes too heavy for me to lift. Days went by and the boxes sat there. Every night I would ask him to move them and every morning I’d wake up and they’d be in the same spot.
Finally I started crying, pleading with him – practically begging, “Can you please just move them? I’ll tell you where they need to go.”
“Why? Why right now? I’ll get to it,” he yells from his spot on the couch.
And then it happened. He picked up a heavy medium sized box and threw it at me. The box barely missed my pregnant belly and hit me in the knees. I kept my balance and then, shocked by what just happened, felt a little scared. I realized that I actually didn’t know this man at all. I didn’t know who he was when we got I married and I didn’t know him now. But I was pregnant with his child, “No,” I remember thinking, “This is not his child, this is my child.”
For the remainder of my pregnancy I focused solely on myself and the baby. I would read & talk to Hunter while he was growing, patting my stomach and telling him everything was going to be okay. Meanwhile my relationship with my husband continued to deteriorate. The fights and the violence continued and one night he actually pushed me – belly and face forward – into the steps. I caught myself with my arms saving the baby from the impact. I didn’t tell anyone about it. Not a soul. I was ashamed that I was married to such a creep. I couldn’t leave him though. Not then, not while I was pregnant. Instead I chose to play the happy little wife to keep everything calm and relatively peaceful.
I had been playing the guilt cards delicately in my mind, avoiding reality for too long and in turn, effectively overlooking it all – giving myself one reason or another to stay.
And then my moment came. He was pounding on our bedroom door. My body was pressed up against the wood, my cheek against the grain. Hunter was nestled in our bedspread – listening to it all. Yes. He couldn’t understand. But then it dawned on me – if I stayed with this man, my son would one day grow up and speak to women this way, or worse, treat me this way.
And that was that.
Having no father at all, or one who is barely around, can’t be worse than living with a father like this. And if this was what marriage was like, or my marriage – then I’d rather be single and alone.
Was I really going to give up my entire life or any chance of happiness just so my son could have a father in the house? Did I want Hunter to grow up with miserable parents who were only together for him?
For some women this is possible. For me – not an option.
So I did it. I left him.
I left my husband when my son was 16 weeks old. I left him on a Wednesday. My baby had surgery on Friday, 2 days later. My husband didn’t show up. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even call.
I was now a single mom. I took it one day at a time. I didn’t think about the future or how I would get back on my feet. I just buckled in for the ride.
I know there are so many women out there in horrible marriages, sucking it up for the sake of their children or because they have no way to leave him financially and it’s those women who my heart really goes out to. Sometimes I look at my life in two alternate universes or scenarios. What if I would have stayed?
I can’t even imagine…
After a year of being in and out of court, going thru custody, divorce, child support….it was finally over. He decided, in the end, that he didn’t want Hunter after all. And he certainly wasn’t going to pay child support. So, I had to go back into court and file for his rights to be terminated. I had to prove to a judge that I was stable & that I was capable of being a mom & a dad. And I did just that! I had an unbelievable support system. My parents & my sister held me up more than once. I would not be where I am today with their love and support.
When you are a single mom it’s hard to find time to paint your toenails, let alone go out on a date. We don’t have time for rules or drama. We also look at men differently. They could look hot in that pair of jeans but will they be a good father? Would they be a good husband? We also have to let go of our past and move into the future without the fear of being hurt again. There aren’t any clear answers and what we find on the other side of our journey is a mystery until we get there. We’ll definitely hit a few bumps and maybe a pothole or two.
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