As a parent we are given the job of raising a person from birth to adulthood that will be a productive member of society. A person that will give more to the world than they take from it. We try to raise a well rounded individual that is intelligent, happy, and well adjusted. That is a big responsibility to put on a person. The molding and shaping of another being. It is fraught with perils and risks.... and rewards. It is a challenge that millions of people take on every day. The title of "parent".
If you happen to choose the role of single parent on your own or it is thrust upon you by life's circumstances, then you know what I mean when I say it can be even scarier. You play the role of mother and father a lot of the time. You cater to the whims of your child, their pain, their joy, answer all of their questions. I know that my son is starting to ask me deep questions (well deep for a six year old) and I am having to think up thoughtful yet honest answers that a six year old can understand.
As a parent, if my child is interested in sharks, snakes, spiders and other gross boy things, then I have to be interested as well. I know more about the aforementioned creatures than I ever cared to. Yes, I will sit with him for hours watching documentaries on dinosaurs, snakes, and sharks and pretend that I thoroughly enjoy it. Afterwards, when he has questions on what he viewed, we look the answers up online. I've read the books, taken him to see the exhibits, am even considering getting him a snake as a pet. Why do I do this? Because I'm his mom and that's what I do. It's my job. You never know, I may be raising a future veterinarian or animal scientist.
As a single parent (and here I say parent, not mom, because single fathers have the same duty) I never truly without my child. Even the time that he spends with his dad, I am still a mom. Yes, I do enjoy adult time with him away but he is never far from my thoughts. I worry about him and think about the things that are upcoming that we have to do. I do chores for him: shopping and laundry and other things.
When you take into consideration that everything you do regarding your child, every word you say to them, what you feed them, what you expose them to, the things they overhear or see you do, shape your child.... it's amazing that any intelligent person reproduces.
Safety: Oh my the fears of what can happen to your child... you try your best to protect them and yet let them grow as a person....Why do we even try and take on the responsibility? It can be so overwhelming.... but the sweet reward of a beautiful person who is an extension of you. That is why. Your legacy to the world....
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Drafts- Or things I just couldn't bring myself to finish
Draft 1:
Why?
It's quiet this afternoon. The kids are at their respective pre-church activities for tonight. I should be studying. Big test next Wednesday. I keep wondering what I'm thinking taking on this journey yet again when I already had my chance. I could just have a regular 9-5 job and enjoy my little life with no complications. I could enjoy spending time with the kids in the evenings and not have so much anxiety. Why?
When I was fourteen years old I lived in Greensboro, off of Church and Cone Blvd. Somehow I decided I wanted to become a candy striper at Moses Cone. Even at 14 I was driven to learn about new things and take chances. I signed myself up for a first aid and cpr class at the American Red Cross. I actually walked to Wendover from where I lived and took the class. I was that determined. I became that candy striper and was proud of my job. I also worked at Lindley Pool as a locker room attendant.
I was happy. Happy until I had something happen that forced me to move to Va. To move away from my friends and the things I enjoyed doing. It's hard to be uprooted. I was an emotional mess and not good for anything. I met friends when I got to Va. Stafford was a lot different than Greensboro. Everyone I knew had parents either in the Marines or working in D.C. including my dad and step-mom. I never stopped thinking about home; about all my friends that I missed. I stayed in Stafford for most of the school year until something else happened that prompted my dad to send me back to Greensboro.
And so it went.... I was the teen that went back and forth between my parents all through high school. I had no roots. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, without regard for how it would affect my future. My grades suffered. I really was in to my friends and boys and not as much in to school as I should have been. I finally moved out of my dad's for the last time when I was 17. I never returned to either of my parents to live. They have, over the years, helped me out tremendously.
Was I addicted to drugs? No. Did I get into legal trouble? No. I got married at 17 to my first husband. We had the most beautiful and great child. Did the marriage last? Nope. Who was to blame? Both of us. We were young and so different. I got married again a year after our divorce. Had another beautiful son eleven years later. Did it last? Nope. Who was to blame? Both of us.
Draft 2:
"How come you never tell me about your problems?"
"How come you never tell me about your problems?" she asked. I thought about it briefly before responding.
I don't tell you about my problems simply because they are not problems. They are life. I am a single mother of a six year old and I am also raising a fourteen year old niece. My life is chaotic, messy and more than a little overwhelming at times. Problems? The car breaking down, the home repairs, the bills, having to be in three places at one time are not problems, they are my life. A problem is something that has no solution. Something I cannot fix or manage. I don't talk about these things to you because I don't look at them as problems, I look at them as every day occurrences that challenge me and I can either rise to the occasion or I can fall apart. When you have other people who depend on you, you do not have the luxury of falling apart. I tried it. It didn't take.
I laugh and I smile. I pray. I depend on my support system. Maybe if I didn't have a solid support system, I may think of things as a problem. But thanks to the Lord, I have what I need to see my way through the ups and downs of my life. It is a beautiful thing to know that a minor setback is just that, a setback. There has only been one area of my life that has been a problem the last few years and it is taking care of itself in a way I never could have foreseen.
Life is good. It is what you make of it. I have love and laughter in my life, wonderful kids, friends and family and I choose not to sweat the small stuff.
Draft 3:
The Obituary
The obituary was brief. Why wouldn't it be? It, after all, was only the death of her sex life. There were no survivors, no one left behind to mourn. The death of her sex life was sudden but not unexpected.
Draft 4
The Secret
If I didn't know that my life would turn upside down... Oh but I knew. I couldn't say what only a few already knew. So I put on my face. I dressed and went about my daily life. I wore my skin like a costume. No one could know the real me inside. The one that spoke in her head what she could not say aloud. I always knew that the day would come where I would have to just yell at the top of my lungs the truth. But that time wasn't now. My skin was feeling tighter. Ever so tighter every day. I feel constricted. It hurts to breath sometimes. But I have to just hang on a while longer. But how much longer? Long enough that I can deal with the looks, the rejection, the disappointment. Can I do that now? No. Not yet.
An unassuming woman. Mild mannered. Good mom. Plain in appearance.... She hid a secret so dark... So threatening to others.
Why?
It's quiet this afternoon. The kids are at their respective pre-church activities for tonight. I should be studying. Big test next Wednesday. I keep wondering what I'm thinking taking on this journey yet again when I already had my chance. I could just have a regular 9-5 job and enjoy my little life with no complications. I could enjoy spending time with the kids in the evenings and not have so much anxiety. Why?
When I was fourteen years old I lived in Greensboro, off of Church and Cone Blvd. Somehow I decided I wanted to become a candy striper at Moses Cone. Even at 14 I was driven to learn about new things and take chances. I signed myself up for a first aid and cpr class at the American Red Cross. I actually walked to Wendover from where I lived and took the class. I was that determined. I became that candy striper and was proud of my job. I also worked at Lindley Pool as a locker room attendant.
I was happy. Happy until I had something happen that forced me to move to Va. To move away from my friends and the things I enjoyed doing. It's hard to be uprooted. I was an emotional mess and not good for anything. I met friends when I got to Va. Stafford was a lot different than Greensboro. Everyone I knew had parents either in the Marines or working in D.C. including my dad and step-mom. I never stopped thinking about home; about all my friends that I missed. I stayed in Stafford for most of the school year until something else happened that prompted my dad to send me back to Greensboro.
And so it went.... I was the teen that went back and forth between my parents all through high school. I had no roots. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, without regard for how it would affect my future. My grades suffered. I really was in to my friends and boys and not as much in to school as I should have been. I finally moved out of my dad's for the last time when I was 17. I never returned to either of my parents to live. They have, over the years, helped me out tremendously.
Was I addicted to drugs? No. Did I get into legal trouble? No. I got married at 17 to my first husband. We had the most beautiful and great child. Did the marriage last? Nope. Who was to blame? Both of us. We were young and so different. I got married again a year after our divorce. Had another beautiful son eleven years later. Did it last? Nope. Who was to blame? Both of us.
Draft 2:
"How come you never tell me about your problems?"
"How come you never tell me about your problems?" she asked. I thought about it briefly before responding.
I don't tell you about my problems simply because they are not problems. They are life. I am a single mother of a six year old and I am also raising a fourteen year old niece. My life is chaotic, messy and more than a little overwhelming at times. Problems? The car breaking down, the home repairs, the bills, having to be in three places at one time are not problems, they are my life. A problem is something that has no solution. Something I cannot fix or manage. I don't talk about these things to you because I don't look at them as problems, I look at them as every day occurrences that challenge me and I can either rise to the occasion or I can fall apart. When you have other people who depend on you, you do not have the luxury of falling apart. I tried it. It didn't take.
I laugh and I smile. I pray. I depend on my support system. Maybe if I didn't have a solid support system, I may think of things as a problem. But thanks to the Lord, I have what I need to see my way through the ups and downs of my life. It is a beautiful thing to know that a minor setback is just that, a setback. There has only been one area of my life that has been a problem the last few years and it is taking care of itself in a way I never could have foreseen.
Life is good. It is what you make of it. I have love and laughter in my life, wonderful kids, friends and family and I choose not to sweat the small stuff.
Draft 3:
The Obituary
The obituary was brief. Why wouldn't it be? It, after all, was only the death of her sex life. There were no survivors, no one left behind to mourn. The death of her sex life was sudden but not unexpected.
Draft 4
The Secret
If I didn't know that my life would turn upside down... Oh but I knew. I couldn't say what only a few already knew. So I put on my face. I dressed and went about my daily life. I wore my skin like a costume. No one could know the real me inside. The one that spoke in her head what she could not say aloud. I always knew that the day would come where I would have to just yell at the top of my lungs the truth. But that time wasn't now. My skin was feeling tighter. Ever so tighter every day. I feel constricted. It hurts to breath sometimes. But I have to just hang on a while longer. But how much longer? Long enough that I can deal with the looks, the rejection, the disappointment. Can I do that now? No. Not yet.
An unassuming woman. Mild mannered. Good mom. Plain in appearance.... She hid a secret so dark... So threatening to others.
Monday, November 19, 2012
For Now
The connection was there. They were both more than fully aware of the attraction. He had longed for her for so long it was like a physical ache. She knew that it could never be. They danced around the subject. It was safe to flirt. It was safe to imagine what could be if they could just let go that one time. Just once. He thought of her. She imagined how her life might be different if they could just be together. Imagined a life with him as her partner. It hurt knowing that once they gave in to their desire, it would no longer be safe. They would sacrifice too much. They had too much to lose. They were happy apart but were wanting so badly just to have that one taste. To see. To touch. To explore. What could it possibly hurt? It would hurt because it could never just be one taste. It was already past the point of simple pleasure and had gone in to the realm of danger. For them. For their lives.
So they joked around. They talked of other things. They were to each other what they could not get from their lives already. But nothing more. And they felt it. It was there all the time like a ghost looking over their shoulder. Neither could stop thinking about the other.
It wasn't fair. Would life EVER give her what she wanted? Was it fair for him to want her knowing that it was wrong? They were both confused. They knew even thinking about each other or talking to each other about such things was just wrong. So very wrong.
They stood under the same stars. Under the same moon. In different lives. Knowing each other was alive and there was just enough. They walked around their daily lives with their loves and family and jobs and friends... It was enough just knowing how they felt.
For now.
So they joked around. They talked of other things. They were to each other what they could not get from their lives already. But nothing more. And they felt it. It was there all the time like a ghost looking over their shoulder. Neither could stop thinking about the other.
It wasn't fair. Would life EVER give her what she wanted? Was it fair for him to want her knowing that it was wrong? They were both confused. They knew even thinking about each other or talking to each other about such things was just wrong. So very wrong.
They stood under the same stars. Under the same moon. In different lives. Knowing each other was alive and there was just enough. They walked around their daily lives with their loves and family and jobs and friends... It was enough just knowing how they felt.
For now.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Paint Lives Here.
He was a quiet, unassuming child. We never heard from him unless Katrina wanted us to. I remember when we lived in Greensboro, Paint used to go bowling with us. I never paid much attention to him. When we decided to move from Greensboro to Stedman, Paint followed. Again, I didn't pay it much thought. I was too busy raising my own and other people's children to pay attention to this child named Paint. He was Katrina's friend. One night, everyone was over eating dinner and having a good time. Katrina came out of her room and informed us that we needed to be quiet or Paint would make us. I wasn't even aware that he was at the house. We all got really quiet. Katrina stomped in to her room and shut the door. My dad said that if someone came out of Katrina's room, he was leaving.
Katrina showed me where Paint lived once. A small, white house on Baywood Rd. Really rather unassuming, again I didn't give it much thought. Katrina was always talking about Paint.
One day she stopped talking about Paint. I don't remember when she stopped or how long it took me to notice. I asked her finally what had ever happened to her friend Paint. She told me, very seriously, that his mother had killed him.
I paid attention then.
Katrina showed me where Paint lived once. A small, white house on Baywood Rd. Really rather unassuming, again I didn't give it much thought. Katrina was always talking about Paint.
One day she stopped talking about Paint. I don't remember when she stopped or how long it took me to notice. I asked her finally what had ever happened to her friend Paint. She told me, very seriously, that his mother had killed him.
I paid attention then.
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