I’ve been having a rough run of it, doing this single mother thing.  For a couple weeks I forgot the things that I’ve enjoyed about being a mother, and could not get away from focusing on all the things that I am missing out on by doing this on my own.  After working a full day at work, my job doesn’t finish.  Every day is a kids’ activity that I must drive them to, and many times our activities didn’t end until bedtime.  The house would be a mess, and I would be so exhausted I would put it off for another day.  The housework piled up, my mood worsened; life seemed like this never-ending pendulum.  I’d knock the balls to keep things in motion, and in return they would knock me back down.  I was exhausted.  And to top it off, the kids’ attitudes were worsening, their manner of speaking to me changed to an appalling nature.  Maybe they were feeding off me.  Maybe they were angry from so many sudden changes.  Maybe they were learning bad habits from friends at school.  Maybe they were also overwhelmed.  Regardless, the order of our house was utter chaos. 

Last weekend everything came to a head.  I had endured enough.  I had been told “No” too many times by both kids who were refusing to help me.  I felt so in over my head that I realized I had to ask for help.  One call to my mom, and she was there at my house.  She got the kids to pitch in and help, and the house was suddenly transformed into the house we were proud to live in.  Their prized possessions were taken away: video games, skateboard, TV privileges…  And they were to be gone until they had earned each one back one by one.

The first day without any of their usual things to do resulted in a quiet Sunday afternoon.  Both of them read books cover to cover.  We colored pictures with sparkly pens.  I made them homemade play-dough in blue and red.  And we made little play-dough figurines and let them dry out on a plate.  Monday morning my son told me that he was going to miss the weekend.

“Why?” I asked him.  “You were in trouble all weekend!”

“I know,” he told me.  “But we just had so much fun hanging out.” 

I know he misses the video games most of all, but I think that we all needed for them to be out of the house just to be able to revisit the core of us. 

This last week was a lot better.  The schedule didn’t change; I was still going from work to kickboxing, work to soccer, work to their visit with their dad.  Every day was something else.  And I still felt the need to fight it tooth and nail.  But the kids’ attitudes improved some.  My son made it his goal this week to greet me with a hug every time I picked him up from daycare after work.  He filled his promise every day.  When I asked them to help me do something, they did so almost every time.  Slowly my dark mood wasn’t feeling so dark.

Today was my daughter’s soccer tournament.  We arrived at the soccer field at the very latest we could be there without losing points.  I dropped her off so I could find parking.  The other girls on the team immediately took my daughter over, spray-painting her hair red and orange and tying ribbons in it.  My son and I came soon afterwards.  He had earned his skateboard back and was making up for lost time.  I’m amazed to see him ride sometimes, his balance impeccable on the board I used to wobble on once as a kid.  We found a bench above the field, giving us a bird’s eye view of the whole game.  My grandma joined us, and my mom and dad soon after. 

Our team was playing another team they had played once before and lost miserably to.  The last game they had played, it had been a 6-0 shutout.  One of our girls had broken her arm in the scrimmage.  And towards the end of the game, as our girls were panting and just waiting for the torture to be over, a little pixie of a girl on the other team announced loudly to her other teammates to stop scoring goals because it was so unfair to our team.  It was a humiliating experience.  This time, our girls had their game faces on: literally with face paint, and liberally with determination in their eyes.  The game was played tough, and when the final whistle blew three times, the score was 2-1.  We were on the winning side!

The girls were amped up when their second game came about.  They had won one game; they knew they could do it again.  My own daughter was taken out of the goal box and placed as “Forward”.  From the time that whistle blew she was off running, her eyes were locked on the ball, her position correct every time.  Her moment of glory came when she wrestled the ball away from the other team, passed it to another girl in front of the goal, and the girl scored the game’s only goal.  I ran down to the field as soon as she was switched out to tackle her in a bear hug.  Her face was shining in pride, and at this moment I could see that her spirit was lifting.  The weeks of indignant promises that she wouldn’t play next year were eaten as she told me that maybe she would be signing up again.  The games continue tomorrow in the second half of the tournament, and we have a real chance of winning the whole thing!

One of my friends and her mother had joined me for this game to cheer my daughter on.  When it was over, my friend took both kids to give me a night of rest.  I spent my free time getting a pedicure with another friend, and then watched a really bad chick flick while we folded laundry.  When my friend left, I went to work on my kitchen, eventually cleaning out the bookcase in the dining room of all the books we didn’t want anymore.  It was then that I came across my daughter’s class journal, the notebook she had to write in every day for one of her assignments.  I flipped it open and was immediately transported back to memories of all the things we had done last year, yet through my daughter’s eyes.

I look back at my own childhood fondly.  My parents made it their mission to make sure that we had a good life.  There are many memories of trips to the cabin, skiing and snowboarding in the winter, trips to Disneyland, neighborhood camping trips, summer camp, ice skating lessons, Tuesday night dinners at Sizzler, boating at the lake, BBQs, large family holidays…..  One of the things I lament is the fact that there is just one of me, and that there is no way I could ever duplicate the childhood that my parents had given to me.  I often feel like my kids are missing out because of my mistakes.  But my heart was filled as I read through her assignments of recalling favorite memories.  Some involved memories of times with friends.  Some involved things with her father’s parents.  Some involved things with my parents.  And many were about events just our family experienced.  She had a normal childhood.  She had good memories.  Being a part of a single parent household has become her reality, and it seems that her childhood is not really that different from mine.  Maybe I really haven’t failed these kids at all, and that they really aren’t suffering.

Today was the perfect end to a very difficult period of self-pity and self-doubt that I had to go through.  It was a day when the tides turned, the winds shifted, and our little sailboat family coasted back out to sea with strength and pride in our sails. 

We can do this.

Sail away with me at winecountrymom@winecountrymom.com.

Our saga continues….. (Click here for previous installment)

 

High noon.  The sun beat down on us in between a smattering of clouds.  A small trickle of sweat made its way down his forehead, and he brushed it away slowly as his gaze locked with mine.  If he had any reservations, he showed no sign of it.  The corner of his mouth was lifted in a crooked grin before he spat onto the dusty ground.  We faced each other, the same motive in mind: one of us would be going down.  His hand stayed at his side, half curled and ready for action.  Neither one of us flinched as we held our ground and stared the other down.  It was showtime, the hour of truth when all would be decided in a moment.

There was no sound around us except for the vagrant wind.  All souls had scattered upon our arrival, sensing the tension for weeks as the war built up between us.  It was destined to happen eventually, this final battle to see who would still be standing after the draw. 

A shadow passed over the road and my furrowed brow lifted to see that we had company.  He, too, looked over, acknowledging this new arrival with a nod and a smirk.  Her tussled hair blew in the wind, swirling around her face in brown and blonde.  She never once tamed it with her hands as she took her place beside her brother and faced me.  My heart pumped a little faster as my predicament came to light.  I was in a bad box.  I had been prepared to face down one.  But I did not know if I could handle two.  However, I only let my surprise register for a second before regaining my composure and glaring back at them with conviction.  The sun glinted off the shiny star pinned to my vest, reminding me of the importance of victory.  The crime in this town had gone on long enough, it was time for me to take back the law of the land. 

The blood coursed hotly through my body, pounding its rhythm with each beat in my ears.  My shirt clung to me in wet patches from the heat of the sun and the sticky sweat from anticipation.  I held my own hand at my side, flicking a finger slightly, willing them to make their move.  I was ready.

DRAW!

“I am taking your Xbox and all your games until further notice,” I hissed, taking the first shot.

“I don’t care,” he said.  I had missed, and he nicked me with his first shot.  I staggered slightly, but caught myself and stood back up.  His sister stared coolly back at me as he reloaded and got ready for the next round.

“Your Nintendo DS is mine,” I shot at her.

“Take it, it’s lying on the couch,” she shot back calmly. 

0 for 2.  I was losing steam quickly.  And I could tell they had barely begun.  I racked my brain for a strategy and felt like I was grasping at straws. 

“TV,” I gasped. “No more TV at all!”

They fired back grins, letting me know that I had missed again as I was hit twice in the leg.  I fell to one knee, sweat and blood trickling to the ground as the world went in and out of focus.

‘Fight harder,’ I told myself.  ‘They think they have you.  Catch them off guard.  You still have an ace in your pocket, use it.’

I staggered to my feet.  Both of them faced me again, their stances a little more relaxed with hands on their hips, grinning back at me in my weakened state.

“Reinforcements,” I croaked. 

The fear was unmistakable in their eyes as I was joined by two figures, one on each side of me.

“Your impending Disneyland trip is about to eat gravel,” my mother told them.  “If you do not toe the line and mind your mother, you will be staying home with me while she goes without you.  And I have plenty of toilets that need cleaning.”

Both kids were knocked off their feet by the blast.  They cowered in fear, huddled together as my father’s shadow fell upon them.

“And if I ever hear that you have been disrespecting your mother again, you will have to answer to me.  Believe me, you would rather deal with your mother,” my father said sternly, delivering the final blow.

My parents left them wounded in the corner, coming back over to me as my strength was recovering.

“You’re in charge now.  You can handle it,” my father said, his hand on my shoulder.

“We have faith in you,” my mother said.  And they hopped on their steeds and rode off, their dark silhouettes melting into the sunset.  My badge had fallen in the dirt, and I bent to retrieve it, dusting it off.  The silver shone back at me once again, and I pinned it to my vest.  I then turned around slowly to face my children who were still huddled together.  They were shaking in fear as they looked up at me with pleading eyes.

“Get upstairs now and make sure your room is spotless,” I said firmly, my strength fully regained.  They both jumped up without a word and raced up the stairs.  “And when you’re done with that, clean the bathroom.  Don’t forget the toilet,” I called after them.

“Yes Mom!” they called back.

This battle is over.  Well….at least for today.

Sometimes you get, sometimes you get got, and sometimes you email winecountrymom@winecountrymom.com.

Wine Country Mom cannot think of anything nice to write here about her children.  So she has graciously asked me, Poetic Goddess, to step in and entertain all two of her fans.  Because of the current circumstances, I am dedicating this one to her.  

 

Ruby Red

by Poetic Goddess

 

 

 

Ruby Red,

take me far from here,

down to the depths 

of your ocean

where the bubbles melt like 

ice cream

dancing on my tongue

and the seasons 

change 

from dark to bright

to a mellowed out 

tangerine afternoon

of blissful laughter

evaporating into the wind.

Take me to your

sandy shores

of sugary rims 

and lime wedges,

where worry is a fable

and time was heard of once

but has lost its 

meaning in translation

from generations of 

storytellers

that tell of lands far away

who still hold onto strange customs

of deadlines & agendas

and carpools & schedules,

shopping lists, calendars,

and an odd little book 

of numbers & decimals

that must be catered to & balanced,

but that always manages to 

still lean to the left.

Ruby Red,

whisk me off to your island

so I can walk your 

shores of eternity

and wrap myself in your 

breath of salt

and lose myself in the call of the sea

as I drift into oblivion

after drowning in your sweet kiss

of icy cold warmth

and your dizzying seduction of daydreams.

 

 

Sip cocktails with Wine Country Mom on the private island in her mind at winecountrymom@winecountrymom.com.