Posted on | October 15, 2012 | 3 Comments
You know those bobble head dolls? The ones that you just tap once but then they shake and, well, bobble, for the next hour or so? That’s how I feel right now. I feel like I’ve just been hit one too many times and the spring at the base of my neck is stretched out and worn, leaving me to bobble like a deranged lunatic until someone grabs hold of both sides of my head and stops the madness.
The funny thing is, I couldn’t tell you which hit started the wobbling. It seemed like everything was going along pretty well. Sure, my child has been less than stellar lately and yes, my house could use a professional cleaning/burn down and start over. Absolutely, I’m slammed at work and you’re right, I’ve got a less than awesome physical form staring back at me from the mirror. I am single, now that you mention it, and I do work full time and mother full time, and blog semi-full time and clean full time, and still try to work out four days a week and cook and my lawn needs mowing and and and OHMYGOD JUST TALKING ABOUT IT IS STARTING THE WOBBLING AGAIN.
I’m falling apart. I’m one bounce away from snapping the spring that is holding my head to my body. I’m one hard hit away from a concussion that will render me useless for the rest of my life and absolutely nothing is different today than it was yesterday or the day before. Absolutely nothing is different today than it will be tomorrow or the day after.
Single parenting comes at you in big, tsunami force waves and it flat. out. obliterates you. If you think about it. If you let it sink in. If you scan the horizon for sky that is totally and completely covered with the magnitude of shit that you have to do.
If I don’t think about it, I’m doing okay. If I stay busy, if I keep moving, if I just focus on one foot in front of the other, I can manage all of this. But when I have time off, when J goes to see his father, when I’m out of town for business… the reality of what I’m going back to washes over me until my lungs are full of water, my hair is plastered to the sides of my face and for the life of me, I can’t figure out if I’m drenched by the tidal wave or by my own tears.
Single parenting is so. hard. It’s non-stop, no break, no you can not flirt with that cute guy because your child is about to fall headfirst into a ditch and why are you trying to pretend that you look any different than Alice from the Brady Bunch right now? It’s yes you can have more string cheese, no you may not kick mommy, why is this happening to me COMPLETE AND UTTER CHAOS. And every so often… it just becomes too much.
But you still get up. You still put on your work-appropriate clothes and your career-oriented make-up. You still smile and still hug your sweet and sour child goodbye. You still put one foot in front of the other. You still wipe the snot and tears from your face with the back of your hand and you just. keep. going.
Because, quite simply, you have to. Because, quite simply, there’s no one else to dry those tears.