The Selflessness of Single Parenting..

I look on the calendar and stare into the sea of activities, rehearsals, after school programs, play dates, birthday parties, and appointments for my kids. And I realize I have missed my eyebrow waxing appointment for the third time. This is a normal thing for me, something gets scheduled for the kids and naturally I put off my own agenda to accommodate. I have no quoms about this at all. As frustrating as it may be for the salon scheduler, she's just going to have to get over it, my kids' life comes before mine in every way.

 I hear all you ladies out there lecturing your computer screen, a happy and healthy mother is the best thing to give your children. You are completely right and I am perfectly happy with putting off my appointments to be front row at my daughter's rehearsal, and I am going to remain healthy if my eyebrows aren't perfectly primped, although, I might scare a few people.

 When you become an adult and make that decision to have a child.. whether planned or unplanned... you made the adult decision to open your legs and you knew  it could result in an adult consequence, you do not get a sympathy vote for being a moron. Your life from then on is not about you. You had your childhood, your adolescence, your irresponsible phase, now its time to give your kids their turn. Now it's time for your kids to enjoy a childhood free of adult problems. To give them a well rounded adolescence. To guide them during their irresponsible phase. To use your mom voice and flash your mom look. To count down from 3 to 1 and to tell stories that start with 'When I was your age...'. You deserve nothing but they deserve every goodness you can give.

 When you become a parent you put your child above yourself including sometimes your needs. I know of single parents who flake on their parent time, schedule things when they already promised their time to their kids, or doesn't make anything  out of the time they do share with them. My heart breaks for these children. Put in a situation were they may feel unwanted or more like a burden. If I could shake those parents awake to the fact that the little time they do get with their children is precious, fleeting, and desperately needed by the child I would. To those parents I feel the worst disgust for. How they can help create a life but then choose themselves in a selfish attempt to claim some sort of single lifestyle escapes my rational reasoning.

 As a single mother you do double duty. You take out the garbage and make the dinner. I find that most meals lately are of the frozen variety due to mommy fatigue, but hey they are being fed.  We cook, we clean, chauffeur, bandage, schedule, dress, shop, discipline, kill monsters, teach, coach, console, and play pretend for our kids. We are expected to take care of things we never thought we would be relied on to do. I know when I signed up for the mommy bus I don't remember any fine print stating that if the hubby decided to jump ship I would be responsible to cover his half of the responsibility as well as maintain my own at the same quality. I get run down of course, who doesn't? I work, go to school, take care of three children, upkeep a house, try to maintain friendships, and manage the small amount of income we have to the last dollar. I watch myself at times wither away into the stress of it all. Sinking into it. Gasping for air. Waiting for the fall out. Then I look at the smiles on my kids' faces and listen to their giggly conversations and I am reassured.

 My children mean everything to me. Sure I need my me time.I find it here and there. A bath and wine night after they go to bed at night. A good book to read while they're napping. A Netflix binge while they have parent time with their father. I get it in 10 min breathers and, if I'm lucky, in a 2 hour nap. That me time is important for me to refresh but it will never take priority over my kiddos. All you single mamas out there doing the best you can, you do you Booboo, just make sure your kid/s needs and some of their wants are met first.