Aaack...still sounds porny!
Being a divorced parent gives me some scheduled free time on a regular basis. During my off time, aside from catching up on monotonous tasks, I try to venture out in the world and do stuff. The stuff usually includes me having wine but varies in location and context.
My off days are precious and strange. It is precious to have alone time and be able to complete mundane errands like food shopping without having to frantically offer my son snacks or crappy toys in order to prevent a tantrum. I swore I'd never be one of those parents who gave into unruly children at the supermarket, but when you need milk, you need milk, and leaving the store mid-shop because your kid wants a $1.09 matchbox car does not get you the milk. Buy the damn car.
Off days are also times for me to move my arse in workout gear (notice I can't even really call them workouts 'cause they ain't), read, get my hair or nails did, or sigh, go to my amazing massage place for a cheap hour-long massage. Judging by the incredibly high-end cars that are always in the parking lot, there's a very good chance I frequent a happy-ending massage establishment, but I don't ask questions. And, best of all, my few off days allow the boyfriend and I to do some of the couple things that we missed out on at the end of our marriages to other people: romantic trips, dinners, concerts, walking around holding hands, etc. Please don't gag...we went through the ringer to get here.
What's odd about my off days is the abrupt shutoff of my parental duties. One day I'm mom, and the next, I'm just me. No silly voices, pretending, morning snuggles, helping pull on little socks and dinosaur boxer briefs, or if I'm being real, whining, demanding candy at all hours of the day, accidentally pooping on the floor, and so forth. It's a real mixed bag, the whole parenting thing.
I'm not going to lie, the first few off hours are nice. Really nice. Quiet. Calm. However, as the peace, or fun, or whatever of the day continues, a gnawing sensation of offness builds inside of me. Because, no matter the extent of niceness of my day, my special little person is absent, busy playing his role in a whole other world of which I know very little about. He's got an entire life outside of mommy's realm before his school years have even started.
These thoughts fly into the forefront in my mind when I'm out and spot other moms and dads with their toddlers. I smile and nod knowingly at the various family scenarios I witness, only to then realize I look like a creepy staring lady. "Oh no, no, noooo, I have a toddler too, that's why I'm grinning as your little boy sticks his straw up his nose!" I want to say. But, I just quickly look away. To them, I'm a parental outsider....a fresh-looking, twenty-something (ha!) sauntering around sans a wedding ring and kid in tow. I can't possible know what their life is like. And I quite honestly, I don't. I don't know what their family life is like because it's my off day and my child is at his other parent's house.
So, my off days force me to pull a Beyonce and make lemonade out of having to give my little boy up. I realize that if I didn't have those off days, I'd be a wife, sad at home singing about my cheating husband and his proverbial Becky with the stringy hair. And that's no way to live. Alas, I savor the time off and allow it to recharge me and miss my little boy. Come to think of it, I am always a little peppier, funnier, and more limber after a weekend off, and EJ certainly reaps the benefits of that. As for ogling other families when I'm out solo, I can still stop to appreciate them, but then marvel at being able to leave a restaurant quickly and without having to negotiate my way through a peace summit about walking out the door. Imagine that.
My next off weekend is in two weeks. I have already planned to go for a run, finish the book I started last month, clean the bathroom, have some wine, and return something to the mall. All thrilling, I know. Maybe if I'm feeling really crazy, I'll get a massage too. However, my happy ending will be hugging my little boy on Sunday night and instantly becoming mom again.
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
Three Men and a Lady
Oops, this sounds dirty. I promise it's not-I'm simply using a play on words to describe what's happening between me, my son, boyfriend, and ex-husband. I am constantly tangled up between the three and it can get rough. Yikes, still sounds bad.
Let me clear it up with metaphors that are less porn and more stars.
My life now revolves around three entities who orbit one another on varying axes. My son is the sun-the day to my night and seasons to my year. My boyfriend is the moon-the ebb and flow of the tides exists because of our gravity. I guess then my former husband is Pluto-controversially declassified as a planet and now a dwarf in the universe.
I'll start with the sun, err, my son. EJ is a sweet, adorably adorable, sometimes annoying boy. I definitely like him best when he's unobstructed by the clouds of toddlerhood...which is namely wanting what you want, when you want it, all of the time. Mostly cookies and TV. But regardless of rain or shine, he's there every day, giving me the warmth and sustenance I need to survive. He is the center of it all.
My sweet, sweet boyfriend is a lovely, constant, consistent, bright spot in my life, and I go to sleep each night knowing that I am loved and cared for. Plus, he sparkles even more in the dark....when we don't have our children....and there is wine. Plus, I appreciate his full moon. Sorry...had to do it.
My ex-husband, once again newly divorced, is a strange, alien creature whom I will never (and never care to) fully understand. Despite being downgraded in my celestial world, he will forever exist in it as EJ's dad. Luckily, it's been easy to find peace with him for the betterment of our son because as Star Wars has taught us, intergalactic wars are loud, riddled with casualties, and expensive.
So, my life is on a constant rotation with these three beings. Parenting EJ, co-parenting with the ex, and introductory step-parenting with the beau. EJ and I FaceTime with his dad while my boyfriend and his son are in the other room. I sometimes send the wrong texts during dueling conversations-smooch emojiis to the ex and detailed poop updates to the boyfriend. I listen to EJ identify the members of the Leptraceratops family in his favorite dinosaur book as himself, mommy, daddy, my boyfriend, my boyfriend's son, and his two half-sisters from his father's second marriage. This ain't no Brady Bunch, folks. It's a whole other world, but I guess it's working out just fine. Come to think of it, the stars do look prettier when spread out chaotically and not perfectly aligned.
Let me clear it up with metaphors that are less porn and more stars.
My life now revolves around three entities who orbit one another on varying axes. My son is the sun-the day to my night and seasons to my year. My boyfriend is the moon-the ebb and flow of the tides exists because of our gravity. I guess then my former husband is Pluto-controversially declassified as a planet and now a dwarf in the universe.
I'll start with the sun, err, my son. EJ is a sweet, adorably adorable, sometimes annoying boy. I definitely like him best when he's unobstructed by the clouds of toddlerhood...which is namely wanting what you want, when you want it, all of the time. Mostly cookies and TV. But regardless of rain or shine, he's there every day, giving me the warmth and sustenance I need to survive. He is the center of it all.
My sweet, sweet boyfriend is a lovely, constant, consistent, bright spot in my life, and I go to sleep each night knowing that I am loved and cared for. Plus, he sparkles even more in the dark....when we don't have our children....and there is wine. Plus, I appreciate his full moon. Sorry...had to do it.
My ex-husband, once again newly divorced, is a strange, alien creature whom I will never (and never care to) fully understand. Despite being downgraded in my celestial world, he will forever exist in it as EJ's dad. Luckily, it's been easy to find peace with him for the betterment of our son because as Star Wars has taught us, intergalactic wars are loud, riddled with casualties, and expensive.
So, my life is on a constant rotation with these three beings. Parenting EJ, co-parenting with the ex, and introductory step-parenting with the beau. EJ and I FaceTime with his dad while my boyfriend and his son are in the other room. I sometimes send the wrong texts during dueling conversations-smooch emojiis to the ex and detailed poop updates to the boyfriend. I listen to EJ identify the members of the Leptraceratops family in his favorite dinosaur book as himself, mommy, daddy, my boyfriend, my boyfriend's son, and his two half-sisters from his father's second marriage. This ain't no Brady Bunch, folks. It's a whole other world, but I guess it's working out just fine. Come to think of it, the stars do look prettier when spread out chaotically and not perfectly aligned.
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