ENOUGH

This entry is slightly different from my usual. I typically keep the tempo upbeat and humorous, even in adverse situations. However, today I am feeling the wrath of my uterus. I also feel compelled to share a little of my background, and shed light on just how MUCH laughter has gotten me through.

It all started when I was about 9 years old… I began to notice that my single mother was not at home as much as my friends’ parents. She worked from 6am-3pm, Monday through Friday. But from 4pm on, she was also absent. My mom was a “social butterfly”. Scraping the sugar coating off… My mother was hitting a mid-life crisis that ultimately resulted in her alcoholism, through current day.

I will share anecdotes about that situation, at a later date. I have mentioned my mother’s chemical dependency at this time, because I honestly believe THAT is where it all began. My feelings of inadequacy. My never ending failure to be enough. Why does mom feel the need to be with “those” people, all the time? Why does she feel like she has to drink all the time? Am I not fun enough?

Fast forward to the late 90’s, when I began dating, and having children. I was 16 years old when I got involved with a 20 year old man. The man that ultimately wound up giving me 4 sons. At the time I did not realize that our beautiful sons came as a package deal, with the multitude of other children he was fathering. Not to mention the domestic abuse.

The father of my children is not the only man that I have had issues with. Later in life got involved with another man. For 5 years, I let him be a part of my life, my world… my sons. Just to find out that he had also been living a double life, with at least one other woman. We tried to reconcile after that situation came to light, but there were obvious lingering trust issues. A year later, the relationship took a domestic abuse turn. And, I am left to wonder… Why do they feel the need to be with all these other women, at the same time as me? Why do they snap and put their hands on me? Am I not woman enough?

Moving forward to current day, and the reasons I am drudging up all of these feelers… 97% of everything I do in life, is for my sons. As children, they do not see that. And, that is fine. I am not looking for some grand recognition. I am not even looking for a thanks, at this time of their lives. I am, however, heartbroken by the requests my oldest son had, last night.

Yesterday, spring finally sprung, in this Indiana town. Just 2 weeks ago the kids were off school because of snow. But yesterday, the temperature hit 70 degrees! What better way to celebrate, than having a cook out?! So, I left work and went straight to the butcher shop. Afterwards I headed home to light my little charcoal grill, and proceed to cook chicken legs, burgers, bratwurst, bacon and steaks; all while my four sons and a few neighborhood boys played in our yard. It wasn’t long before my oldest son approached me, asking if the man I am dating could come over for dinner. Mind you, my sons have yet to meet this gentleman. They simply know that I am dating someone. His presence was not an option, at that time. Next, my oldest asked if their dad could come over for dinner. I should specify, that this is not as uncommon as most would believe. Their father and I have formed a friendship over the past half decade; completely plutonic, and honestly great for our sons. He has recently started a new, physically demanding job. Meaning his presence was not an option either. Last, but not least, my oldest son asked if my ex, mentioned above, could come over for dinner. That was pretty much the straw that broke the camels back, and my heart. Why does he feel the need to have a man around so bad, that he would request the presence of someone that has blatantly disregarded their feelings, and more recently, their entire existence?

In the midst of cooking out, playing around with my 4 sons and their little friends, joking around with, and feeding all of them…

WHY AM I NOT ENOUGH?

Tax Time!!!

As most single mommies, and even some married parents know… The beginning of the year is like a sweet-sweet birthday, without the reminder that you are yet another year older. This is the time of year that Uncle Sam reimburses us for all the broken mini-blinds, crayoned walls, and stained furniture; in the form of child tax credits. Well, like most, I have decided to do some things with my tax return that I normally would not do on my measly annual income. I am taking my four sons to Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida, for Spring Break. Huge, right?

I also appreciate the little things in life. I recently made a purchase that I am not entirely proud of. I bought a TWELVE DOLLAR, 10 ounce, bottle of edible goo. Totally disregarding the fact that $12 would buy an entire, budget friendly, dinner for my family of five. Shame. On. Me. But in my defense; this isn’t just any goo. This is Pampered Chef Pineapple Rum Sauce goo. Described, on their website, as “a tropical mix of pineapple, coconut cream, mango and red pepper, combined with a touch of rum, creates a refreshing, sweet and spicy sauce”. Your mouth is watering now too, right?

This evening I decided to crack open the bottle, that has been guilt-hidden in my cabinet for 2 weeks. The recipe depicted in the brochure which I selected this goo from called for a softened block of cream cheese, and crackers. You simply pour the sauce over the cream cheese and spread on crackers. I have chosen Triscuits. Mmmmm.

My youngest son was in the kitchen with me when I began preparation. As I poured the golden goo, with it’s less than appetizing appearance, over the block of cream cheese, Christopher asked “WHAT IS THAT?!” I replied “your FACE”; which is my response to questions that I do not want to answer, or when I am trying to be a smart ass. (Also see: “Your MOM”)

A minute later, curiosity brought my older 3 sons into the kitchen. “What are you making?” I did not answer, so Christopher decided to share my recipe. With the most serious demeanor he said “cream cheese, with your face poured on top… we are going to eat it with those crackers”. He has yet to develop my sarcasm trait.

Most entertaining $12 I have spent, in a long time.

MAN

Earlier this evening, I had the privilege of taking my (almost) 12 year old son to his first co-ed birthday party, being held for a girl in his 5th grade class; who just so happens to be my son's latest crush. I feel as though this was a milestone for both of us; HIS first social interaction with members of the opposite sex, that are not related by blood, marriage, or years of kinship... and, MY first urge to lock him in his room until after he graduates college, for a reason other than junk-punching his brothers.

After two grueling hours, I picked Corey up. The second his seat belt clicked, I started the 20 questions. Did she like your gift? Did you sing happy birthday with everyone else? What other classmates were there?

"Yes... Ya...." Then he rambled off a handful of girl names, and started talking about the cake. Wait a minute. Back it up. "What boys were there?" "Just me" and he continued on about the cake.

I don't know whether I am more bothered by the fact that my son was the only boy, OR the fact that he did not seem to be bothered by such. 

Baffled by his comfort, being the only boy; I concluded the interrogation with one final question, "Corey, did you go to this party in hopes that this girl would like you?"

"No Mom. I went because I wanted to see her smiles." 


Well, there you have it... My baby boy is becoming a sensitive, loving, MAN. I may not like this fact, at all times. But I could not be more proud of him.

THURSDAYS!!!

I hate Thursdays. I really do. Thursdays are my busiest day of the week. I barely have time to scratch my thoughts, and organize my butt!

I told the boys to remove their things from the living room, and clean their room; as I started some of my own homework.

As I look up from my 2 piece laptop (Oh ya. Be jealous!) I see...

Corey doing flips on his skateboard... in front of the mirror... that is INSIDE my house.

Caden doing ballet behind Corey; getting whatever glimpse of himself that he can.

Cyle running around my "social circle".

And, Chris wiping a booger on my hallway wall...

All I can think is...

"At least he didn't eat it, this time." And, "where the hell is my whistle?!"

No seriously. Someone hid my whistle.

2004

Six years ago, I was a far cry from your average 24 year old. Six years ago I had a kindergartner, 2 toddlers, ages 3 & 2, and an infant. All but one in diapers and/or pull-ups. Six years ago, my signature scent was Baby Magic lotion, with a hint of 5am's Enfamil upset. Six years ago, I didnt carry a purse; only a diaper bag. And, most of the time my pants conveniently did not have pockets. Six years ago it was nothing for me to be sitting at my desk at work, and feel a continual discomfort in my bra area. A short while later, I would discover a Winnie the Pooh pacifier tucked between my cleavage. Sexy. Right?

Six years ago I had acquired a traffic ticket. Anyone whom has shared in this awesome experience, knows that there are tremendous fees involved. Fees, not easily waged on a single mother's budget. Luckily, the powers that be allow you to request an extension at a hearing. I decided to take advantage of this opportunity.

I woke up early that morning due to the fact I was nervous; having never been to a courthouse for anything other than child support hearings.

I got all 4 boys ready for the day, loaded them up in their respective safety seats, and started on our merry way. Low and behold, like every other morning, the two oldest boys started arguing over toys that were found in the back half my minivan. Once we reached the babysitter's driveway, I was able to separate the two boys as well as the toys. Then I lugged the younger two inside, while the other two followed close behind. After all four were settled, i was able to continue on my voyage to the courthouse.

Government buildings are similar to airports, for the fact that you have to walk through metal detectors before entering major areas. No problem! I do not carry any sort of weaponry on me. I laid my keys on the conveyor belt leading to the x-ray machine, and walked through the metal detecting mechanism. Imagine my surprise when I set off the alarm as I made my way to the other side. Immediately a woman rushed over to me and proceeded to wave a wand over my body. My pockets kept triggering a beeping sound. Buy why? My keys were still on the conveyor belt.

I reach in, feel around, and instantly turned red as I removed my hand from my pocket. There I stood, holding up the line that consisted of other courthouse patrons, with a bright Yellow Power Ranger in my hand. As I turned around facing the crowd, all I could see were a sea of eyebrows, arched in disbelief.

Six years ago I stopped confiscating toys.

Daisy Jones?!

I am currently enrolled in my first semester of community college, where I am taking English Composition, Online Learning Tech, Algebra, and Intro to Microcomputers. I also have been working at the same place for 2 years. 


Why did I group those random facts? Well. I will tell you... 


Sunday evening I found myself feeling the wrath of my procrastination. I was crunching probably 4 hours of homework and quizzes into 2 hours. Not a problem, as I am a whiz. Or so I thought...


One of the homework assignments was to post the results of 5 Microsoft Office searches on the online class discussion board, then elaborate how we could use the results in our everyday lives. If you are not familiar with Microsoft Office; its basically an online service that has templates, clip art, all sorts of interesting lil things. The assignment was truly very simple. I just had to search "5 things that interest me". How could I go wrong doing THAT? Below is my exact entry to the discussion board. Pay close attention to numbers 1 & 3...

I, personally, was more interested in the templates than the clip art. I found these searches to be fruitful...

1. "Inspirational Quotes"- This search produced a handful of templates, and 4 motivational "cards" that I plan on printing and hanging in my cubicle. I can always use motivation to exist in the place that inspired me to attend college, to land a better job.

2. "Chore Chart" - This search produced many templates. However the one I downloaded immediately was titled "Family & Kids Weekly Home Chore and Commission Charting list". I believe this one will motivate my sons to prevent me from tripping over football equipment and using the last clean towel. Money is such a great motivation.

3. "Resume" - This search produced many templates for eye-catching resumes. See #1 for urgency.

4. "Recipe cards" - This search produced the cutest templates for recipe cards! Each had it's own design or holiday theme. I can always use a better way to organize recipes given to me by family or stumbled upon on the internet.

5. "Emergency Contact" - This search produced many templates for Emergency Contact Lists, which I can utilize for my sons when they go to a friend's house or are home with a sitter.

Aside from feeling very domesticated, I was pleased with my findings and my post. 

Now, in order to receive full credit for discussion board assignments, you must reply to at least one co-student's initial post. Great. I have no problem agreeing to disagree, relating, or just generally talking to people. So, I proceed to the main screen and start browsing through names. 

"John Davis"
"Randy Moore"
"Mandy Long"
"Miles Nordstrom"
"Daisy Jones"
"Emily Thompson"
"Alexa..." WHAT?! DAISY JONES?! No way! This can NOT be! Jones is a common name. Maybe it's someone ELSE! 


I click on the post submitted by "Daisy Jones", and as I read the excessively excited verbiage, I realize it is none other than "Daisy Jones", my immediate supervisor at work. Suddenly I suffered from temporary illiteracy and all i could say was "F*CK"; as I frantically return to MY post to find the delete button. I remember my English teacher had stated that discussion board posts could be deleted as long as no one had commented. No comments, I was safe! 


Low and behold... NOTHING in my life is ever as simple as clicking a delete button!!! After searching every pixel on the 15" monitor of my laptop, it became apparent that each class has unique rules. Mr. Intro to Microcomputers does not have the same flexibility as Mrs. English Composition.


At that point all I could do was laugh. And of course, swear. Then, pop a couple Benadryl... and go to bed. I had to be at work the next morning... I think.

Wash Your Hands!

Yesterday my oldest son was sent home from school early, with a headache, stomachache, and fever. I just dont get it. All three grueling months of summer, Corey did not have any stomach episodes. Three weeks into school, BAM! I dont know if its the communal watering fountains, satellite lunches, or the 300+ other cootie baring critters. That boy has a rough time fighting off stomach bugs from August to May.

Anyways, due to the fact that he spent the evening in the bathroom, and soiled every pair of mens-size-small boxer briefs in the house; I decided to let him stay home from school today. Upon leaving, I gave him a list of things to do around the house. Nothing huge, because he was "sick". "Tidy up, and do not make any messes that are greater than the existing ones... and dont use all of the toilet paper." We run out of toilet paper so fast in our family. Which is odd, because I am the only girl!

Around 10am, I called Corey from work. "Take the mac & cheese out of the freezer and put it in the fridge, so it doesnt take so long to cook tonight." He abruptly replies "OK BYE!". "Wait a minute! Why are you in such a hurry to get off the phone?! What are you up to?!" ..... N-O-T-H-I-N-G in my 11 and a half years of single-motherhood could have prepared me for what was about to be said.......... "You wanna know what I am doing? Ok! I am masturbating!"

I let out a slight "gasp" as 9,385 thoughts instantly raced through my head. The only thought that could make it's way out of my mouth, is the one ANY good mother would say: "Wash your hands!" Then, I dropped the phone receiver on it's base and held my head in my hands at my desk. Thought 9,386 was "WHY did I have to ask?!" Followed by 9,387 "WHY did he feel the need to tell ME?!"

 Today was a monumental day in parenting for me... Starting with the painful recognition that my oldest son is becoming a man. That he feels he can be brutally honest with me. And, that I am going to have to replace my pricey Victoria Secret lotions, with Suave and WalMart brands.

I hate this day.