Bah Humbug!

"It's the most wonderful time of the year"... ugh.  Not so much.  It's the most stressful, harried, hurried time of the year.  And now, thanks to retailers everywhere... we get an extra month of anxiety to worry about it, since the decorations for Christmas come out while the Halloween candy is still on the shelves.  We've lost our minds over Christmas... it's not fun anymore!  It's all about finding the best presents for the best prices for the family members that we blew off on Thanksgiving to get those presents for those prices.  It's maddening.

I can remember as a little girl, being so swept up in the spirit of Christmas.  Being excited over the lights, the music & Santa showing up in the shopping mall. I would get myself so excited that I couldn't sleep.  I still can't sleep now, but for a completely different reason. 

 I feel bad for saying it, but if I'm really honest with myself, Christmas has become a chore. I have a 6 year old son, I shouldn't feel this way, but I just feel stretched so very thin - more than any other time of the year.  There are the work parties, the school parties, the gift exchanges, the dinners, the holiday concerts & parades.  Oh... and the decorating!  God help me the decorating!  

10 years ago, I bought a pre-lit tree, my first one.  All white lights.  The only time I have ever braved the crazies and actually camped out in the early morning hours on Black Friday, was for this pre-lit tree.  it lasted forever.  In fact it's probably still working.  However, last year, my son requested that we get a multicolored light tree.  So I gave the old one away, and purchased a multicolored tree.  This year, I dig the tree out, put it together... fluff it (which is a project of it's own), plug it in.. and of course, one whole section of the darned thing doesn't work.  I started to try and determine which light was the culprit, but it was such a lost cause, I went out and bought a string of lights... for my "pre-lit" tree.

I promised my son that I would get the Christmas lights up on the house this weekend, so last night I was up on the ladder in the dark putting the lights on the outside of the house.  Because even though he spends time in two different homes at the holidays, I don't want to feel like he's getting shorted on the holiday cheer.  But at the same time, I just don't feel the spirit anymore.  Everything feels like a "have to"...  And I wonder if he even feels the Christmas spirit, or if he just feels like this is the time of the year that Mommy is losing her mind and impatient.  I want to get back to feeling the excitement!  So I think I'll write Santa a letter... ask him to put the joy back into Christmas!  

When you've had enough...

There are days, that I just want to wave the white flag and say "I give!!" I won't lie, it would be nice to have another person around to be swapped out once in a while, and let them take over. Like a sports player... "she looks exhausted, lets start the 2nd string"...

Some nights, after I finally get my little guy off to bed, I find myself depressed just by the state of the house. We literally get home, I get dinner together for us while he showers, he gets his pjs on, we eat, he does his homework, we go over our sight words, we read our books, if I'm lucky we have a little time to goof with each other before tucking him in, then I'm grabbing laundry out of one of the machines, cleaning up from dinner, packing a lunch, making my coffee for the next morning, lay out his clothes, my clothes, scoop the kitty box, let the dog out, make sure everyone has water in their bowls, brush my teeth and it's off to bed, only to get up and start the insanity all over. Up until this past March, I worked remotely from a home office. I loved it. I had plenty of time to chat with my son over breakfast (which I actually cooked every morning), he had time to eat leisurely and watch a little Mickey Mouse Clubhouse while I put his lunch together and sipped on my coffee. Heading to school wasn't a mad dash, and everyone had a smile to start the day.

I started my current job in an office clear across town two weeks before my darling little boy started kindergarten. SOOO... here we were faced with getting onto a strict schedule - the two of us. As my friends know, I am not the most punctual person... in fact, I don't think that word and my name have EVER been used in the same sentence. It's not that I don't want to be on time... in fact, I really hate that I am so late to everything, it's more to do with the fact that I have a severe case of A.D.D. and with a kid in the mix, I'm hopeless! I start one task only to be distracted by another and then there's a ball being thrown in the house, something breaks, something spills, there's crying, and well, that's it. I'm screwed!! Whatever it is, it's just added an extra 10 minutes to the already tight schedule we have, and this is how our day starts!

Another schedule damning fact: my sweet boy is a sleeper. He slept like a teenager when he was a toddler, we really are two ends working against the middle! We were very lucky that got into a fundamental elementary school, but now, there is even more pressure to get to school on time. While I am very grateful that we got into our first choice school, this also means MORE INSANITY... because mornings just aren't pretty around here. I try, and he tries too, but at some point someone is getting upset because they're not getting their way. And the really bad days... those are the mind f'rs. You're angry, they're upset, and then after you drop them off, half way to work, that horrible little voice in the back of your head says "You are such a crappy mom!" and you start second guessing yourself and feeling bad for starting the day off on such a bad note. It's very frustrating, and exhausting & I'm pretty sure my neighbors (though they swear they don't hear me) know exactly what time it is everyday by hearing me each morning: "Get in the car,...Please... get into the car...I AM NOT PLAYING WITH YOU - GET INTO THE CAR... NOW!"

We pretty much have the same exchange when we get home... "Get in the house, get your homework out..." And while I know it's the responsibilities of a good parent, I also secretly hate it, because I don't have the opportunity to be "the fun one". It's just me, and I need to get it all done. I love my son, I think I've already established that, I just get that same guilty feeling when he's off to bed... the one I get when I drop him at school. I want to play hookie! I want to scoop him away from the homework, and the bath & dinner and play with him on the swings... or throw a ball back and forth in the yard, but I can't be in two places at the same time, and this is my frustration. And as illogical as it is, it is also my guilt. It's impossible, but I feel bad for not being able to cook dinner and play with him at the same time. To not be able to give him a bath while washing the dishes & cleaning up the table before starting homework. To not have as much time to just sit with him and enjoy his presence. But I have a feeling, regardless of my marital status that I would have this guilt. There just aren't enough hours in the day for a working mom.  So I lay in bed... after a full day, feeling bad because my house is a mess, there are clothes in the dryer, there are dishes in the dishwasher... the bathroom needs a good scrubbing... the flower bed is just a place for weeds to flourish and the dog could really use a bath and hoping that I can get to it all tomorrow... or at least that's what I tell myself, so that I can get some sleep.

The "D word"

"I'm a single mom." Funny how when I was in my 20s that statement would have had a negative connotation.  You see... I wasn't married until I was 34.  So the idea of being an unwed mother in the 90s was taboo to me.  Not to mention the fact that I was a "good Catholic school girl".  (Insert snicker here).  I had lived my early adult years well.  I lived away at college for a bit, spent a couple years shacked up with a guy I thought was "the one and forever"...  No really, it was forever...  Just not in his 25 year old head.  LOL    I got smart, came home, went back to school, got an apartment, lived with my best friend for a bit longer than either of us expected  & then at 33 I met someone who I thought was "the nice guy".  You know the one (or maybe you don't), he shows up at the first date with flowers, says all the right things... wants to do whatever you want to do, treats you like a princess for awhile - and though you feel like something is up, you can't quite put your finger on it. You tell yourself you're just being paranoid.  Six months later he pulls a ring out on Christmas eve... and it begins.  I'm ashamed to say, I pretty much knew at the beginning.  Once the ring was on my finger, things changed...   Rapidly...  And not for the better.

There were a couple of huge blow ups that made me question if I was making a mistake - but I chalked it up to trying to blend lives & our differences, and the stress of planning a wedding.  All the while, my gut was screaming & I chose to block it out.  After the wedding, the relationship was very strained.  But we were trying to pay off debt and get our credit in order to buy a house... and that's stressful (or so I kept telling myself)... after the house was bought I blamed it on the fact that we were trying to fix it up, and had so much on our plates, then it was the stress of being pregnant... then the stress of not having time for him once the baby was here (all the while, taking the verbal abuse and forgiving him) I was home with a baby, handling the house, the bills, the stress & he was out golfing or sitting in front of the TV and was miserable all of the time.  Towards the end, his yelling and name calling was coupled with slamming things & throwing objects.  I felt like I got on one of those people mover sidewalks, and just kept moving forward, I couldn't figure out where to get off.  And with a new baby... the guilt was terrible.  This little guy didn't ask for any of this.  He shouldn't have to pay for the fact that his parents were such a mess. 

One day while sitting in the parking lot of Cracker Barrel for two hours crying to my best friend, I had that "a-ha! moment" that Oprah always talks about.  My best friend said "but what are you holding on to?"  And it dawned on me... she was right.   I paid the bills, I took care of the house, the baby and him...  and I was tired.  Tired of being belittled, talked down to, under appreciated, and bullied.  I did it all myself anyway, I could handle this.  So after being physically threatened (because a bully just keeps pushing harder each time to get a reaction) in front of our two year old son, I packed a bag & I moved into my old room at my parents.  It was hard, I was embarrassed.  It was Christmas, my family was here.  I had to explain why all of our stuff was in our room (we live in the same city - so I couldn't use the holidays as an excuse for being there).  But looking back, I am so glad I did.  I had 4 months there, before he finally gave up and got out of the house (he insisted that I move back and stop acting like a child - he refused to move out - told my attorney to tell me to pack up my things and my son & come home - he was in denial)  Part of that was my fault.  I would get upset and then allow myself to be guilted back into the same old crap.  And the guilt I had for my child, soon was what fueled my need to get it done and over with.  No longer was I thinking "he didn't ask for this, he didn't choose to be in this situation" - I was thinking "He didn't ask for this!  He shouldn't be in this situation!" ("this"being the chaos).   It was the best decision I ever made.  It scared the shit out of me at the time.  I hated leaving my entire life up to someone else (my atty and the judge).   Of course once the bully got his head around what was happening, he did what he did best.  Threatened me with my fears.  I told him, he could have everything, and I meant it.  Everything but my son, I would do what was fair and in the best interest of my son, but he was not getting full custody.  I wasn't letting that happen.  I would fight hard and mean, because I wanted more for him.  He told me he'd continue to drag me down until I was penniless & living in a box... and I thought "a box it will have to be then, because I will fight for my son".  Thankfully I come from a good family & am very blessed.  My parents stepped in to help, and living with them for the first 4 months of this chapter in my life saved me from going insane.   I had someone there to help keep me from losing my mind, someone to help me see the larger picture.  I am thankful for them every day.  There were days I just wanted to lay on the bathroom floor & cry until I couldn't anymore, but they didn't let me.  They helped me to keep trudging forward. 

Don't get me wrong.  I had a lot of really bad days and nights.  That first Christmas, I had to leave my son with his father, he threatened not to return him home!  And when you're dealing with someone who is so irrational, it makes your fears irrational.  And I was angry.  Most of my marriage I lived in fear, fear of being yelled at, fear of being shut out, fear of people seeing the mistake I made, not wanting to disappoint anyone.  But the bottom line?  The only people that were important were me and my son, and we were suffering because of my fear.  So I decided, I wasn't going to be afraid anymore. I wasn't going to let the irrational person I married, make me afraid for what my life would turn out to be.  I was taking back the power.   And I did.  It took time, we've been divorced almost 4 years, and he still tries to pull his crap here and there.  But I am not afraid of him.  Or anyone else.  I focus on raising my son to be the man his father cannot be.  I have my moments... there are things that really get to me, but I have to remind myself how much worse things could've been.

I decided to start this blog, because in the time since my own divorce, I have had 8 of my friends go through the very same crap, and met another 5 that are dealing with it now!  That's 13 marriages going south, 13 divorces... 13 single moms.  Out of those 13 - my attorney has represented 7.  (WTF?!  I should have gone to law school)   The one thing we all have in common as mothers, is that we are trying our hardest to stop the insanity & raise our children to be the smart, well adjusted, loving, little people that they can be.  But it's hard.  There are days we feel beaten down and exhausted & we just need a break.  Days when we worry that their short comings (albeit issues with eating veggies or learning their letters) might have something to do with our choices and what we have exposed them to.  I'm currently in the planning stages of getting a group together, I've learned there is a great resource in connecting with others who have the similar experiences.  It helps us to validate ourselves, our decisions, our fears.  In the end, we all just want to be good moms & give our kids the best we can, so that they are enabled to live their best versions of themselves.