I was a single Mom for many years. 6 to be exact, from the time Taylor was 2 until she was 8 and Donnie came into our lives.
When I was a single Mom, it didn’t seem like a big deal. I simply did it. I took Taylor to school, I went to work, I picked her up, I came home. Then I did the Mom things like cook dinner and help with homework and cared for our two cats (Hemingway and Fisher) and one dog (Lucky). Rinse, Repeat.
Granted, I had lots of help. Taylor’s Grandparents and Aunts on both sides were simply invaluable as they cared for her outside of school hours, shuttling her to appointments and filling in where and when I couldn’t. And her Father was also very much involved and later her Step Mother as well. This family cell with Taylor as its much loved nucleus was a poster child example of “it takes a village to raise a child.”
I became a single parent again over this past week. Donnie had to travel for work to Alabama. He left on Sunday evening, and was not due to be home until Midnight on Friday. Taylor’s Father was also traveling for business this week, so it left a 6 day stretch of uninterrupted single Mother time. ***
I soon realized that there are a lot of things that are different now than 7 years ago as I stepped into my well worn single Mom shoes again.
For one, my career is much more fulfilling and with that, more demanding. In the past few years, I have become used to having a couple evenings a week to spend a few hours catching up on e-mails or squinting over a spreadsheet after I get home. If Taylor was not with her Father, she and Donnie would watch one of “their” shows or even go to a movie. He has also become King of the Kitchen and makes dinner almost every night in our household.
Our pet situation has also changed over the years. One of our beloved cats (Hemingway) passed away and Fisher, the lone remaining feline of the house has developed diabetes and now requires twice a day shots and a special diet. Lucky the aforementioned dog, who has been with us since Taylor was 5, can now be described as geriatric – and that is being kind. He must be regulated to the downstairs as he falls if trying to navigate the stairs. He cannot control his bladder or bowels very well anymore (much to his embarrassment) and has to be let out at very regular intervals or we suffer the consequences of a very unpleasant clean up. And then of course there is Minnie, my Chihuahua baby substitute, whose health is very robust but who also requires the same love and care as all of the other sentient beings in the household do.
Then of course there are the major changes in the being who put the ‘Mom’ in single Mom to begin with, my Daughter. No longer the sweet, amiable and loving child she was at ages two through eight, she is now a teenager and has fully presented in the last couple of years all of the adjectives that the chronological term implies.
So even though I entertained fantasies of long meaningful talks, cuddling and watching movies with Taylor during our week of togetherness, I have been in the teen daughter trenches long enough to know that reality could almost literally bite. As I have written about before, we are in the throes, the war zone really, of teenagedom. I am not her favorite person anymore, my responses to her ‘what’s for dinner’ question are typically met with whining and eye-rolling. (No matter what is on the menu.) Any comment or remark either of us would make to the other could spark the smoldering embers lying just below the surface of our tenuous daily attempt of truce or cease fire.
So, I tried to be realistic about our week together. Just us and our everyday grind. Expecting the best, but preparing for the worst, as the old adage dictates.
It was a busy week. I was up every day at 5 AM to give myself ample time to care for our needy menagerie, caffeinate myself, get Taylor rolled out of bed and do my own three “S’s.” (Don’t know what those three S’s are? Ask me offline.) During this week Taylor had her FCATS (the Florida school standardized testing that has become a State recognized event). In addition to this and my professional responsibilities I had to get her to the Orthodontist as Minnie had delightedly taken a nibble of her retainer ($250) and we had to go to her pediatrician to get her physical done and forms signed as a requirement for her camp this summer. Lucky the dog did deposit several messes, one of which was rolled in and necessitated me scrubbing the floor on my knees at two AM one night. We were never home before 5:30 PM, at which time I would throw down my purse and briefcase and usher the bladder-challenged out the door.
And to top everything off, during our phone conversations over the duration, Donnie told me that his trip was not going as well as expected. He would not be home Friday, then Saturday was looking grim as well.
By the time today (Friday) rolled around, all I wanted was to put my comfies on and curl up, perhaps with a book and preferably in the fetal position. I picked my daughter up this afternoon and realized with surprise that she was not concocting a sleep-over or a get together with a friend. She said, “Can we go see a movie together, Mom?” With the fantasies of doing ‘nothing’ dancing in my head and a negative response poised upon my tongue I thought back over the week.
There had been very few verbal missiles thrown at each other. There had been a sense of camaraderie, and indeed there were offers of help from her. “I’ll let the dogs out, Mom.” And “I’ll help you carry the groceries in.” We had been a team again…soldiers in arms so to speak, instead of at war.
So, I capitulated. After a brief stop at home, we went to the movies, smuggled in some verboten Arby’s Beef and Cheddars in my purse into the theater and had a thoroughly enjoyable a Mom and Daughter date night.
Perhaps the week alone with Taylor helped me to see that she is maturing, growing in increments beyond the “terrible teens” and into a lovely young woman. One who I love hanging out with, talking with and continuing to guide as even she guides me at times.
She got me where it hurt a couple of times over the week. Once during one of our only verbal skirmishes we had she called me out on something that I said that was petty. “See Mom, I only act like THIS, when you say things like THAT.” (She was right, I had stooped, allowed my feelings to come out in an inappropriate verbal way.) And then again but not intentionally, when we were at the pediatrician’s office for her physical. She was eyeballing her chart while the nurse was copying down the dates of her inoculations. Later in the car she said without accusation, “I looked at all of the signatures of when I was getting my shots when I was little. It was mostly Grandma, or Mimi, or Dad and sometimes Grandpa.” I was filled with Mommy guilt.
As it turns out, Donnie will come home tomorrow. Taylor and I will already be at the Delray Affair (she is participating in a ‘mob flash’) when his flight arrives. Then she and I are off to the Miracle League where she volunteers.
Despite the long hours, being a single Mom this week wasn’t such a bad thing and had several little learning moments along the way. Even going to the movies tonight with Taylor when I initially didn’t feel like it reminded me of a framed poem that I had on my daughter’s bedroom wall when she was a baby, one that I have seen in numerous other nurseries:
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
While the specifics are a little different, the main gist remains the same. Stop, slow down and be present for your child’s life. Your time with them is all too brief.
*** I know I am fortunate. The help that I had while raising Taylor was nothing short of amazing. Her Father is very engaged, not absentee. We have many family members who look out for us. She and I have always been cocooned in a strong web of support.
To the thousands of Moms whose husbands are in any form of the Military who experience much greater trials while their Husbands are on duty or assignment and also to all the Moms who experience parenthood on their own, regardless of the circumstances…my hat is off to you. Comparatively, I’ve had it easy. I realize that.
