Maybe I’ll start looking at online degrees…

Share This

And every time we moved from one thing to the next, the King of Everything threw a fit. What a misery. I know, he’s five. He’s not used to transitions and sleeping somewhere else and the difference that vacation puts into life. And mostly, he was so excited to be, do, go, see, and so anxious to play, build, learn, know, that we had a hard time getting from one thing to the next.

And note to self? Tinker Toys. He was obsessed by them, and a digital book on tape we’d checked out from the library. If you have anywhere long to go, cooped up in a car with a kid, I highly recommend them. They come as specialized MP3 players, each with a book loaded onto it. You supply your own headphones. The KoE was so enthralled by his story, he lost his tiny mind every time he’d get out of the car and have to turn it off.

The KoE has a month to get it together in time for Kindergarten. He has trouble listening to the adults around him; part of that is because half the time, he’s reading whatever he can get his eyes on and not paying attention. The other half of the time, he’s off in lalaland and isn’t paying attention. I’ll have to talk to his teacher about him, and see what we can do to get him to be more of a team player. For now, it’s enough to say that he survived the first vacation the two of us have had together since we moved back to the States.

I might not ever take him on another vacation, though, if he wants to live to see 18.

Share This

My heart was leaping out of my mouth most of the time, to watch him get trounced and pop up, sputtering and choking and laughing. How did my parents stand it? How did they ever let me do the same thing?? When I wasn’t much older than my son is today, my parents used to let me surf the waves, seal-slim and water-ready, with nothing but cupped hands riding just above the pull of a curl. It was my first taste of wild freedom, body surfing. More than once a wave tumbled me so badly I had no idea which end was up, and waited at the end of my breath for a glimpse of sky. I remembered the terror and the thrill of the ocean pulling me under and over. My son can’t swim as well as I could, at five, but he wore a life jacket and raced into the waves with utter abandon. I trusted him to not panic, and I trusted my vigilance–and the fact that we were right in front of the lifeguard chair–to keep him safe.

Such a blast. So tired. We’re off to dinner out and then walking a calmer beach in search of shells and stones to bring home with us.

Share This

I took a walk on Friday night with a friend, not following the historic tour of the U Street corridor, persay, but glad enough to stop and read the signs, gawk at Duke Ellington’s childhood home, at the hep cat clubs where all the most amazing people used to play; marvel at the sites of once-elegant hotels and businesses that had catered to the folks who lived in that part of town during the segregated years. I love the history of the U Street corridor, though I don’t know as I’d ever be able to imagine what it must have been like then, running on the border between black and white, mingling on that sliver of a strip, in a common love of music or a thrill of the forbidden. I try. I just can’t imagine it. And now, in the ‘Aughts Part Deux’, in this first decade beyond Y2K, we have a revival of a dance that scandalized the world nearly 100 years ago…

I wait, cynically, for someone in my home town to cry foul! at the revival of burlesque, though I confess I’ve been to one of the places mentioned in the article, and witnessed a burlesque show, there.

It seemed in good, clean fun. I know! How could I say such a thing! But the women on stage were fully in control of their bodies, their space, and their sense of humor. Nothing was lewd–if anything, the acts were a wink and a nod to what seems to have been lost in this age of in your face sexuality. There’s a sense of timing, of savoring what’s worth waiting for. A sense of not giving away the good stuff on the cheap. A sense of beauty in a woman’s body, however it comes… slim or stretch marked or rolling with an abundance of flesh. If you read the article, you’ll hear a familiar thread running through these womens’ motivations. They have claimed something for their own, made it powerful, made it fresh, made it wonderful. What’s wrong with that?

I would never take a burlesque class. I’m too self-conscious in public to withstand such a shedding of perceived dignity. But perhaps I get a bit of that sense of value, of myself as a beautiful, joyful, worthy human being, when I dance… especially belly dancing, as I do it just for me, or in the company of women, and don’t need a man to validate my worth.

What do you do, single mothers, to keep yourselves alive and glorious in this too-serious age?

Share This

I don’t know how women and men do it. How do you leave your family, your children, knowing there’s a chance you might not come back?

Come home safe, all of you.

Share This

Here at SoloMother, the summer seems to be sliding by pretty smoothly. The King of Everything has a great haircut and brand new shoes, thanks to his grandparents (size 13.5 WIDE and he’s only 5 years old). All his best summer memories have been lovingly crafted by his grandmother and grandfather–berry picking, a romp around a working farm that caters to entertaining families, and a couple of amusement parks. He’s been to New York City to watch the Yankees play at Shea Stadium with his best friend. I’ve been working. I know single mothers don’t have the corner on the working world, but it sure is sad to have to work the summer away.

My turn for summer fun with my favorite boy comes on Monday, when we climb into a friend’s car and drive up to Delaware for a few days at the beach. Thanks to the readers of SoloMother, I managed to save enough money, despite a delinquent dad and a non-profit job, for a mini-vacation. Your readership is invaluable, in more ways than one. Thank you.

What are you doing this summer?

Share This

Children born to single moms by choice are a whole different category. The outcome data–meaning how do these kids turn out–is positive and show no meaningful differences between SM - choice kids and kids born to heterosexual couples.

All divorce studies are confounded–not so clear cut like this article made it sound– by the sadly inevitable financial woes often experienced by the newly single divorced mother. Poverty is the issue not the divorce itself. Continued acrimony between the parents surely doesn’t help. Dads who split both financially and emotionally certainly contribute to the difficulties kids from divorced homes experience.

Lots of times kids get less supervision leading to problems because mom is working extra long hours to compensate for paltry or no child support and to make up for lost time in the work place.

The most important thing to remember is that statistics are not about you and your family. These data don’t predict anything about how your kids will turn out.

As Dr. Phil (not a psychologist - BTW) says, “It is better to be from a broken home than to live in a broken home.” I hate the term broken home, but the idea that living in constant bitterness and fighting like couples do who stay together “for the sake of the children” in reality do the kids little good and likely some emotional harm.

The only thing we can do is the best we can. And, likely, that what each of us is doing every day.

Share This

When I read a summary or news article about data, surveys, polls, or the like, I have to wonder about the slant. Who commissioned the information to be gathered? Who is writing the summary and analyzing the data? In the case of these worst-case scenarios, which children are they interviewing? Are they taking into account socio-economic factors, ancillary family members who offer a stable family atmosphere? What are the factors that contribute to any child’s success, or failure? Is divorce a different factor than single mothers by choice? Is it the rending of what was once normal? Or are children of single mothers by choice at risk, simply for not having a father to balance the mother?

I’m no expert on anything. Perhaps someone else can take a look at the raw data and tell me the nuances that such flat statements as, “Divorce is bad for children” fail to convey.

Share This

Her current pregnancy and unwed status hasn’t curbed her appetite for frankness. She says she doesn’t know if she’s going to stay with the upcoming baby-to-be’s father, mysterious as he is. She says that in this day and age, women don’t need husbands to be mothers, and she’s assembling her own delivery room team: “My mom and Aunt Serena will be with me, as will my best friends, a midwife and a yoga teacher. And I’ll be the wailing monster at the centre.” Thanks to the New York Post for the interview.

Go, Minnie, go!

Share This

Her mother had been a single mom for six years. I can’t do the piece justice by writing a blow-by-blow summary. Just read it. You’ll be glad you did.

Share This