Tag Archives: Mother

Grab Your Zen

Posted on February 9, 2012 | 1 comment

SO … I’m just going to start off this post saying that I haven’t always believed that you could just choose to be happy. I mean, when you’re dealt some crappy cards, maybe you can muster a poker face and “fake it till you make it”, but really, how can you just choose to be happy? Well, it might start with baby steps that involve taking care of ourselves. If you’re a single mom who doesn’t get much relief or family help, like I am, it can seem especially hard to do. But really, it can begin with one commitment. Even if you have to force fitting it into your day, do it. You’ll be on your way to seizing your happiness. Here’s what it looks like with me on an especially chaotic day, such as today. (And I’m sure many of you single moms know exactly what kind of day this is.)

6:10 a.m. Three-year-old wakes me up by hitting the cat when crawling in bed, then crying because “I don’t want the sun to come up!” To this I reply, “Ok, so go back to sleep. Pleeeassee.”  “NO!!”

6:20 a.m. – 7:45 a.m. Re-edit and then re-print oldest son’s biggest report of the year, while keeping boys from killing one another as they fight over who gets to pull paper out of the printer. Breakfast, feed cat, feed fish, etc.

7:50 a.m. – 8:15 a.m. Yell at boys to get dressed, brush teeth, change a huge poopy diaper (Is there a potty-training fairy out there??), rush to the car. At school, realize oldest son has report, but doesn’t have violin for practice.

8:15 a.m. – 8:30 a.m. Try to calm down 3-year-old who is now screaming because big brother didn’t kiss him goodbye. Race in to get violin. Get back to car (oh, still wearing jammy top with stretch pants) and smell more poop. Get baby out of car seat, change diaper, yet again, put him back in. More screaming over not being able to buckle the seat, then go to school to deliver violin. Then realize that I owe someone an edit of a big proposal, so we rush back home.

8:30 a.m. – 9:15 a.m. Edit proposal with bullets for changes, send emails to editors, cancel appointment with accountant, wash face, freshen up. As I start to go to the car, remember the f***ing valentines! Go back up with the youngest to put together 15 Buzz Lightyear valentines for his party.

9:30 a.m. – 11:30 a.m. Mommy and Me class with youngest. Dance, sing, make valentines crafts, give away valentines … and almost go postal on a special needs child from a different class who hits my son over and over again on the playground. Not one teacher intervened, so after he tried to bang my son’s head into a play structure, I lean in and say, “NO. You don’t hit. You’ve lost your playtime” and walk my son over to the other side of the playground. As I play with Jamesy, I see this kid hit at least 5 more kids and no one stopped him. I’m starting to wonder about their discipline strategies. Go back in for circle time, listen to some younger moms babble about botox and leave early….For me.

11:30 a.m. – 12 p.m. I race to take Jamesy to daycare and run like mad to make a community yoga class. While I’m racing to get there, I actually feel a twinge of guilt for taking the time out. But the minute I put my mat down and see my smiling instructor, I instantly know I’ve done the right thing. (Insert wind chime, Hindi music here.) The topic for the class: Choosing Happiness. How marvelous. We smiled through the difficult poses and it seemed a metaphor for my life. Instead of ruminating about a proposal from an attorney, or the surmounting work with demands from the kiddos and my own deadlines, or the fact I haven’t slept-in or had a break in a loong time … I took a time out. For one hour, I sweat, I breathed deeply and tried to hold insane poses. During meditation I focussed on lightness, happiness, and letting anger, stress, anxiety, jealousy and other ego-centric issues holding me down, lift up in a balloon and sail away. Leaving that class I was at peace and ready to race on with the rest of my madness:

1:30 p.m. Pick up oldest from school. Race to the high school for his honors strings performance rehearsal that I’m helping to coordinate.

2 p.m. – 4 p.m. – Assist the strings teacher with all the children, which included kids from five elementary schools, one middle school and the high school. The music is overwhelming. (I’m so proud of my son for making this honor’s orchestra. I found myself in tears at the back of the performance hall—overwhelmed with pride and gratitude.)

4 p.m. – Race with son to find white shoes for his orchestra performance uniform. (It’s harder than you’d think!) Buy more Sudafed for the nagging allergies.

5 p.m. – 8 p.m. Pick up youngest from school. Race home to start dinner and oversee math homework with oldest, while trying to keep youngest entertained. (Oi! Math is getting harder.) Struggle to get meatballs finished before both boys nosh their appetite away. Take picture of 3-year-old eating a huge meatball and send it to my godsend of a friend. Email a Syrian friend and former London classmate of my oldest son’s to see how his family is doing. (Long discussion ensues about Syria, The Middle East, democracy, etc. with oldest son.)

8 p.m. – 9 p.m. Bath, (resulting in water fight soaking all towels and bathroom floor with youngest peeing on oldest…I know…) books, teeth brushed, thankful lists said, and more water, before bed. (Why do kids have to have more water just after they get under their covers??)

9 p.m. – 10 p.m. Gently try to get youngest to fall asleep. (STILL having sleep issues.)

10:15 p.m. – 11:30 p.m. Clean up kitchen, do two loads of laundry, send an editor two pitches as promised, wash face … and … write this.

Why, you might ask, am I venturing to write this when I’m obviously sleep-deprived?? Because it’s a reminder to me (and perhaps to some of you too) that even when you are overwhelmed with responsibilities—take a moment for yourself. Doing so allows you to continue with this lovely chaos that remarkably means the world to your children. It’s essential for our health and mental sanity. It helps us be better parents.

And, over time, it might just help you to believe that you can, in fact, choose happiness. What do you think? Is happiness a choice? Maybe it is something you have to seize. Perhaps happiness is something that us single moms have to realize involves putting ourselves on the mounting To-Do list. We deserve a moment to take care of ourselves because our work is never, really done. I challenge all of you single parents out there to force yourself to take one hour a day, three days a week, for some exercise such as yoga. Get back to me and let me know how it goes. And, for those on a tight budget, check out community classes at your local studio as they’re much cheaper and usually for beginners.

Nameste, y’all.

Related articles

1 Comment

Posted in Health/Wellbeing, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Do Hand-offs Ever Get Easier?

Posted on December 27, 2011 | 2 comments

Does it ever get easier to say goodbye to your children? As a single mom who hasn’t had a week off from both her cherubs in over a year, I should have danced a little jig tonight. Instead, I found myself gutted so deeply that words can hardly convey how I felt. Do any of you get this too? If so, HOW do you deal with it??

I’ve been raising these two boys solo for two and a half years. If you follow my blog, you know that my ex lives in London, and we live in Los Angeles. He does visit, but typically flies in and will have them for an overnite or two at a local hotel. And usually during that time I’ll have heard from them, or met them on the soccer field, with a weird feeling of relief. Thanksgiving 2010 and 2009 I flew both boys solo to London—which is nuts!! I was so exhausted from flying there by myself and returning solo with all the bags, stroller, gear, etc. that any time off I had in Europe was hardly enjoyable. I should be thrilled that my ex flew into Los Angeles and is flying them both to Tennessee to see his family this season. All I had to do was pack the bags, buy warm, winter clothes for them, and drive them to his hotel by the airport. That is so much easier than flying solo and doing a hand-off after hours of screaming on an airplane with a sore back to boot!

So why was tonight just as hard as last year?!

I know I need the break. Any sane person would need time off. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months. My house is a wreck. I am in desperate need for yoga classes and meditation. I need to spend some quality time with the man in my life. I’m looking forward to all of that! But somehow, I found myself filled with the deepest form of melancholy tonight.

My sweet 10-year-old started to cry as I said goodbye. He turned his head away from me and choked up. Somehow I became brave enough to fight my tears, hug him, and say how much fun he was going to have and how excited all the family in Tennessee is to see him. (I so desperately don’t want to become the pathetic parent whose children constantly worry about when they are away. I want them to have fun and to see that mom is okay and that mom takes care of herself and loves them.) So, I held it together until they walked into the hotel.

I sat in my car for a few minutes in front of the airport hotel. My ex and my older son had already walked out of my sight and I sat there frozen watching my little three-year-old. He was wearing the candy-cane, red and white sweater I bought him, and was struggling with a red carry-on suit case in the hotel lobby. Both his dad and older brother had walked ahead and he fumbled and dropped the case and fumbled again and started to cry. He was still close to the automatic lobby doors of the hotel and I almost ran in to pick up the suitcase and help him steady himself, but something told me to stay put. I just sat mesmerized by the scene, praying that the suitcase would right itself and that he could run ahead and catch up with the others. He finally got the case up and began running (likely screaming too) ahead.

I sighed with relief and then the tears started to flow. Watching him with the suitcase seemed like a metaphor for the dynamic of the relationship between the three of them. My older son and his dad are much closer since they once lived together. So he misses his dad and begins to talk like a chatter-box-cottage (his former nickname at his school in London) with his father the minute he sees him. The two get caught up and little Jamesy has to fight to catch up and butt in. Then, of course, like all two- and three-year-olds will do, he makes sure that they all hear him and my older son gets frustrated with his little brother’s antics as he can no longer get a word in. My baby really doesn’t know his dad very well at all, as he’s been with me almost all the time since he was eight months old and before that his dad was gone two weeks a month anyway. I’m proud that he doesn’t shy away and fights to be heard and seems to hold not one grudge. He is love incarnate and it’s really a gift for my ex right now. Who knows what the future of their relationship will hold?

They’ll have to figure out their own way when they are together. I’m no longer a part of their relationship and I can no longer play referee or try to help. They have their own dynamic, separate from me. And the woman my husband left me for is still in the picture. She’ll be with them this trip and who knows how she’ll behave or how they’ll get along. But again, it’s about letting go of what I can’t control, right?

I guess the emotions trickled up and surprised me tonight as we are so close to finally getting our divorce. Finality always brings back memories and past dreams doesn’t it? I don’t want to go back, and I know my life will be richer and I am stronger because of all this too. But emotions have a way of bubbling up when you least expect them. And for a 100-lb-woman, I have an insane momma-bear mentality. I will do ANYTHING to protect my cubs. So watching them walk away without me, well, lets just say it is one of the hardest things I’ll ever do. I just can’t fathom why anyone would ever want to walk away from them.

Earlier tonight I had packed up most of my son’s infant clothes for my ex to give to his sister, who is expecting in February. I’m still close to her and wanted to pass along the clothes as she, like me, didn’t think she’d have a second baby. She also has a 10-year-old and gave away all of her infant items as I had done. As I was packing up the newborn onesies, sleepers, hats, blankets and tiny socks…I began to feel a pit of sadness open up. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been on my own for a century, and then I see these items and realize that just three and a half years ago I was filled with hope and determination to make sure this miracle baby came into the world safely. I threw up almost every day of my pregnancy with Jamesy when in London and then got chicken pox the week we moved back to the States. I needed a specialist and was put on strict bedrest for two months. While I was on meds to stop the contractions, I just focussed on a happy transition for us all and having a healthy baby. I was filled with hope—but isn’t that how all expecting moms are? And after he was born, with oxytocin pulsing through my veins as I breastfed, I was just filled with love for this beautiful creature. Oxytocin is an amazing hormone that can trigger labor, block pain when a woman goes into labor suddenly (I wrote about this in FitPregnancy), help you bond with your baby and stay positive when you need to most. I researched this fascinating hormone when writing the weekly pregnancy calendar for DivineCaroline where I was the parenting editor. And this remarkable hormone is also released when you orgasm or even just touch, heightening you’re ‘I’m in Love’ feeling. (Read this article.) So you can see, I was in love with family and my new baby while my husband was filled with dread and longing for his former life in London, working at a hip company with young folks, and traveling nonstop.

Well, I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming. I chock it up to breast-feeding and complete denial. But, hey, I’m the lucky one. I can honestly say I’m no longer bitter. And you know what? Somehow,  remarkably, I’m still filled with hope.

Isn’t that amazing?

Happy New Year lovely friends! x

2 Comments

Posted in Divorce, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Little Victories: I’m No Longer Haunted by Playgrounds!

Posted on September 1, 2011 | 6 comments

For almost two years now I have been haunted by playgrounds. I dreaded going to them. In fact, passing by one used to make me want to run to the nearest trash can to vomit. I’m not kidding. But to be fair, I wasn’t haunted by the playgrounds themselves—but rather by some of the moms who go. I can’t tell you how many times I left playgrounds in the past two years with a pit of sadness so vast and so deep lodged inside my belly, or with eyes filled with tears that I always hid behind fabulous, big sunglasses and a large smile. I’d wave at the moms and cheerfully say goodbye, tickling my toddler’s toes as I left. See, I became the master of “fake it till you make it.” And, I’ll be damned if my baby doesn’t get to have as much fun as anyone else’s at the playground. But I tortured myself for a very, long time.

If you’re new to my blog, or don’t know me, you might think this sounds strange. I mean, shouldn’t all moms love to watch their angels run and play? Most of us do. The kiddos don’t bother me at all—it’s the banter between the other moms that used to get to me. See, I’m going through a difficult divorce (of course they all are, right?) I’ve been separated from my husband for two years now. He took a job that required him to travel to Europe for two weeks a month when our youngest was five months old and by the time the baby was about eight months old, I discovered that he had a serious girlfriend abroad. They are still together in Europe and I take care of our two precious boys pretty much all the time. It’s a bitter pill to swallow and I’ve been learning that no one really wants to hear about it.

It’s not like I’m the only woman getting a divorce in Southern California—FAR from it. But, typically, the women who are going through a divorce here don’t have babies. You’ll find more separated moms with middle and high school-aged children. So going to the tot lot (playground for babies and toddlers) was extremely difficult for me. Most of the moms are young and conversation topics range from bitching about what their husbands have done or haven’t done—to why the contractor is taking forever to renovate their kitchen—to why they can’t wait till their husbands take the kids for the day so they can get a much-deserved spa treatment.

For a year I tended to focus on my little cherub, run around with him and *try* to zone these women out. But, inevitably, I’d get drawn into a conversation—women love to talk! Or, I might find myself standing literally between two women whose kids are playing with mine and I couldn’t help but listen.

I’d smile and nod as if I could understand their complaints, but inside I’d want to scream “I’m just fucking grateful if I get to shower every day!”

Many times the women would ask what my husband does and I’d just say something about working abroad and change the subject. I can’t tell you how many times conversations turned to questions about how I lost the baby weight so quickly. “What’s your secret?” was asked to me over and over again. I’d want to answer: “The secret to weighing 97 pounds when your baby is nine months old is to go through HELL!” But I’d just smile and shrug and reply breastfeeding. I had no desire to tell them that I was in the middle of a divorce and that my husband was gone for two months at a time and when he did return, saw the boys for a day, maybe two. Having one more person feel sorry for me was just too hard to bare. Plus, I was desperately trying to stay sane and focus on the positive in my life. So the few times I did let my guard down with friends, afterwards I’d see the sympathy in their faces and I’d want to scream, “It’s OK! Really!” or, “I’m better off! We’ll be fine!”

Needless to say, I started avoiding playgrounds and started taking my wee one to the beach  during the week. I’d go to the playgrounds on weekends when they tended to be filled with dads giving their exhausted wives a break. In my emotionally-fragile condition, dads were just easier to be around. It was refreshing to see men who actually gave their wives a break. I don’t begrudge anyone of that. Plus, dads just don’t bitch about their wives or their exhausting lives. It’s quite rare to hear anything along that vein. And they also don’t hover over their kids and start asking you questions about preschool choices, your husband, your dinners, etc. Some dads do run around with their kids, but many are also reading newspapers, checking their blackberries, or talking with other dads about the latest and greatest sporting event. I’ve also noticed that kids with dads on weekends at the park run around on their own, get into fights, settle them on their own, get sunburned, eat junk food and … SURVIVE. Watching these dads gave me an idea. If being a full-time, single mom was getting me down, I needed a sanity plan! I mean, I do play both mommy and daddy roles, right? So why not take on a few daddy characteristics? So just before Jamesy’s second birthday, I enrolled him into a small family-run daycare. I began to focus on my writing again, getting a shower every day, working out, eating (I needed to gain a few lbs!) and garnering precious adult conversations with new friends where topics rarely ventured on my sad life. It’s worked out great and Jamesy loves his school.

Today, I do take my little guys to playgrounds. But you’ll only find me there usually on weekends. I always take my older son with me and he is charged with playing with his baby brother. He can’t bring his nintendo or play games on my phone. No, his job is to run around with baby James.  And you know what you’ll find me doing? I’ll be sitting on the park bench reading The New York Times. Between articles, I look up, make sure my little guys are alright or put sunscreen on them, and then go back to reading. You might say on weekends I’ve become one of the guys. And my boys, well, they’re doing just fine.

Related articles

6 Comments

Posted in Divorce, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,