...hey jealousy...

Awe...its pissy pants Monday here with one of my precious offspring, I wish I had gotten the memo or for that matter even know how to quell it. But alas, I sent him off to school flushed with the hope that it would somehow go away by 3:30 this afternoon, I pre-apologize to his teachers at this moment. Some days you just get the "Pissy Pants" card, but some notice or even cause would be appreciated once in a while.

While I was sipping my coffee in the predawn hours of my kitchen, I came across a story on my social media feed. It was entitled "The 5 Things You Should Know About Dating a Single Mom." I'll admit, upon seeing it I was intrigued. I got about half a paragraph in and thought, what the hell? I don't need to read this, I live it. After thinking about it, all the things they could have put in that first paragraph, I wonder if I should go back and read the rest.

Fact of the matter is, IT IS TOUGH. If any one man knew the inner workings of my brain upon looking at me, he should RUN not walk away. My control issues...my hang-ups...my anxieties. If I knew 12 years ago that I would end up a single mother, I probably wouldn't have had the courage, moxie or the self-confidence to do it. Any mother who chooses to do this is either psychotic or has their shit together way more than I do. It is one thing to get married, start a family and the marriage does not work out. You came, you saw, you tried, it didn't work and you made the decision to end things. But what about someone who didn't get to make that decision.

Dating is difficult at any age. The beginning is thrilling, getting to know all of the inner workings of another person that you are excited to be around, talk to and think about. The simplicity of wanting to spend time with someone who makes you a better, nuttier, loving version of yourself. There are no other factors to consider besides being happy. Fast forward 20 years, you are older and now have more people to take into consideration on just about every choice or decision you make, even down to what kind of toothpaste you purchase. How does your brain and your heart work in the single-mother-dating-category?

Nora has been on the prowl for a grown man in this house since nearly the beginning. She would check out men at the grocery store, look them up and down and rate them even at 4 years old. To her it's more than just wanting to marry me off, to her it is trying to find a man to look to and up to for security. No person will ever replace her father, but I found it interesting that her coping mechanism was just as simple as putting together a puzzle...if one piece is missing, fill it with another.

Maybe my brain could more easily traverse around this beautiful vista of dating if I had chosen it. Maybe I could put aside my anxieties about what I may or may not be doing to all of those of whom I am responsible. Maybe I would be able to make a decision for myself outside of wanting what is best for all involved. Maybe I could just trust myself and let myself be happy before turning tail and running. I have seen dozens of people get married in the last 4 years, some of whom I have been lucky enough to introduce. While I am genuinely happy for them, to find that person that completes all the wonderful things that make them who they are, at times I am jealous. Of course, Ryan Gosling isn't going to show up at my door and start a life with me, he already has one.

"Hey Jealousy," one of my favorite old songs, and I know I'm showing my age, has a line in it that my psyche reminds me of from time to time. "The past is gone, but something might be found to take its place." Who cannot relate to this phrase? The fact is, I'm jealous of those people who can be in a place to let their heart take the wheel. I have been so very lucky to have the people in my life that I do. I am so very lucky to have these children, pissy pants and all, to raise and watch become such interesting aspects of their father and myself. I am so very lucky to know what it was and is like to be loved. Now, I just need to get around my own issues that are holding me back.

I write this not because I want sympathy, frankly that is the last thing that I want. I write this because I want to add to the article that I almost read this morning. Dating a single parent isn't about who might get in the way of it, even if it was chosen. Dating a single parent is understanding that there are a million needs that need to be met before the single parent ever gets around to their own. This single parent just wants to get around the subconscious stuff sometime soon, and be able to share all the crazy, fun, heartfelt moments with someone else. Even if Ryan Gosling isn't knocking on the door, I want to be ready for whoever is brave enough to.

competitive cartoon artists

I envy these moms. First of all they have it together enough to want to go to multiple ball games in a week, clearly, they have enough underwear that they don't do laundry as often as I do. They get into the game, they know the right things to cheer and they sit on the hot/cold/rainy/bug infested evenings in a bag chair, just to watch their child play a sport. I sat there the last couple of weeks, twice a week, trying to learn. Trying to watch and listen. Trying to hone some competitive instinct in me. It was probably the quietest I've ever been.

And in those weeks, I realized, I've got nothing. I haven't a competitive bone in my body. I wanted to try, for the sake of Oscar, to get into the games, but at the end of a game I was like, "well, you did your best..." Clearly, not the best sports-pep-talker. I am proud that he tried something new, even though his teammates were seasoned ball players, and took a lot of guts. Every game, when he would walk out on the field, it was like watching "Rudy" Ruettiger walk out onto the field- different sport, but same premise. The notion of wanting to do something enough to not care that you were new or inexperienced. Some might think it’s foolish, I thought it took moxie.

But, moxie wears thin at times, as eventually, I saw myself. There he was standing on the field, and not a competitive bone in his body. Things sort of started to shift. Being compared to people your age, in an area that is completely out of your wheelhouse, is difficult, let alone not a whole lot of fun. This sort of comparativeness, while I know goes on for the rest of a person's life, after a while stings. Watching my boy, who has never really played sports outside of the side yard before, at times was painful. He just looked as if he was thinking, "let's just get this over with." And near the end, I can't say I blamed him.

Then a wonderful thing happened. One of these inspiring, afore mentioned moms congratulated him. She told him that despite the fact he was new at this whole thing, he did a great job and he should be proud of himself for giving it a try. Considering my lack of sports knowledge, and even though I had said the same thing to him, it was like getting a compliment from Babe Ruth himself...and I was so very grateful!

But, through it all, I think he we learned a few valuable lessons. The one lesson, that was inevitable as he was bound to learn it in puberty, is comparing yourself to others is dangerous. Noticing all of your inadequacies rips at you from the core. As I sat there, watching him do his best, I thought, "I wonder if any of these boys are good at drawing?" I had to chuckle to myself, as it didn't matter. There's no competitive cartoon artists, or book illustrators, or authors for that matter. They find their drive someplace different within them, and there is no competition. The creative side of life is his stolen base or home run...and clearly, I hope he at least learned more baseball terms than I currently know.