Growing up, my mother wasn’t as strong as she should have been, even though she loved her kids. When it came right down to it, she had taken on having five kids starting at age 17 to a man who already had two. Too much too soon will cost you!
I, on the other hand, had my children much later in life; my first at 36 and my second at 40. One might think that with my seniority, my children would fare better at survival. They’d be wrong. Although I’m more mature than a teenager, my predicament is ending up with men who felt they were young enough to go at it but too old to take responsibility for it. That’s right – single mother both times.
A typical person may believe there’s something wrong with a woman to be jilted twice in a row. Others may think there’s something wrong with the mother’s choices in partners. And, hey, I never claimed to be the most grounded person. The first time was a fortunate fluke at 36 when I didn’t think I could become pregnant. But the second time, we had discussed getting married and having a family, as well as the fact my chances were slimming in time. His words were, “If it’s God’s will, it will happen.” Apparently, it was God’s will for him to leave us high and dry because that’s what happened when the baby was not a hockey player. She’s an intelligent girl. And I’m relieved I never married him.
On the same note, I still ended up with the most wonderful kids any parent could ever hope to raise.
Today, we all worked together and created a wind chime with tiny cork bottles; each held a teeny note created by each of us, surrounding a larger bottle to chime on.
My son made a wonderful pork chop dinner with pasta and then went outside and cleaned the interior of my car. My daughter purchased a 5-pack of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. I gave her three. She made out the most incredible card, and this is how it read:
So I suppose out of all my bad choices, at least two of them were right! The one aspect far different from my own parents I participate in is communicating. I speak to my children about anything and everything, although I use appropriate language. If they’re old enough to ask, they’re curious enough to get the answers from somewhere. If it isn’t me, they’ll find them somewhere else. I’d rather do it, no matter how humiliating it is. Some consider me a Mother Fluffer. That’s okay.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the single parents doing it alone. You should know by now that you’re an incredible Mother Fluffer! What do you do to earn your title?
There are dysfunctional relationships like that, aren’t there? Just because we’re accustomed to something doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a good thing. If that were the case, there would be no frog stew. As soon as the water got warm, the frogs would leap from the pot. But they’re used to it, and they stay — forever, or at least until the chef removes them.
Take my situation for example. My kids both have successful fathers, even though they are distinct opposites. One initially lied about having a degree and used his connections to vouch for him until he had a résumé that proved what he was able to glean by reading books and taking online courses in security. He’s financially inept at planning. But without kids and responsibilities, he’s living the life.
I know, I know. I sound like a whiner who drew the short end of the stick. Believe me, I understand I made the decisions I’ve made. As a writer, the competition is stiff. Some writers have the ability to connect, such as my classmates from Florida who attended Full Sail University on campus. Connections are made available to them on a regular basis. A lot don’t have kids and can travel. Unfortunately, I haven’t got those connections. And they’ve been fortunate enough to have both the connections and the education.
