Single Parenting: It Takes a Village (and caffeine)

There is not enough of me to go around.  Any past concept I had of "spread thin" is now laughable. I am a divorced working mom who has sole custody of 3 "boisterous" girls, owns her own home, has animals, and a litigious and antagonistic ex husband. The saving grace is that I have a lot of support in the form of wonderful parents, morale boosting extended family, a awesome best friend who lives 7 houses down, and a really Neat Guy for a boyfriend. I also happen to be damn resilient. Otherwise, I'd be inpatient somewhere.

Seriously.

If you know a single parent who does 90% of the parenting alone, hug them for me. Because it's HARD. Really hard. Rough and exhausting like I had no concept of before. I have an army of support behind me, but no one can replace me on the front lines. That's kind of panic inducing all by itself. Throw in the general kid stuff like doctor and dental appointments and illnesses. Add to that all of the girls go to therapy--we average 2 therapy appointments a week. Meals. Homework. Class projects. School clothes. Overnights. Laundry. Puberty. And being as involved as possible at their schools, PTA, parent night, holiday parties. Our theme song is the William Tell Overture. The middle schooler has recently been asked to join 2 groups and honor choir, which means more schedule juggling and driving but dang, she needs that right now. And they ought to be in sports, or so I'm told frequently by the professionals I've hired to keep us all from falling apart.

And that's just the kids. There's the house: It's a great little house, brand new, and I enjoy it. It's mine. ALL mine. The mortgage, the bills, the things that grow, the things that break, the things that need maintenance, the things that wear out, the things that need cleaning. I edge the lawn with scissors. It's somewhat meditative. Neat Guy has been known to come over and use the correct machine to do the job. Nature Guy (Miss Daisy's husband) looked at me the other day as I was absentmindedly snipping away and said, "Seriously? I can get my weed eater." I mow a great lawn, but apparently weed eating requires depth perception I do not possess. Apartment? No thanks. My kids are, um, boisterous.  And I'm just too much of a worrywart to let them roam in an apartment complex. Here I can see the neighborhood park from my back porch.

Those awesome people in my life need my attention also. And I need theirs. Which is why Miss Daisy drinks so much coffee at my house. And why I spend long hours cocooned from the world with Neat Guy on weekends my girls are gone, . And why my mom and I talk pretty much every day, and see each other several times a week. I help them wherever I can, you know, to reciprocate. It's a pride thing. I can tell you now, in my mind I owe my parents forever.

These are listed in order of importance...next would be that thing called "work". It's a flexible job. Fee for service. There are days I'm panicking because I'm not putting in the hours I had in mind. Never mind the money even. The panic is because a client is freaking out and needs more of my time. Or I have a goal to see someone twice a week and I've only seen them once for 2 weeks in a row. Or I forgot the next day billing is due and my printer decides to go offline and run out of ink. (WHY is it that only happens on a deadline?)

So then there's me, right? Gotta take care of number....4? Well, to keep the things above running is also to care for myself to some extent. If I could get more of anything it would be: rest and massages. That's a crap shoot though, with kids that crawl into bed at night and a puppy alarm clock, and no live-in masseuse. I manage pretty well given the task. Nowhere near perfect, but what the heck would that even look like? Imperfectly it is: prayer, great relationships, dishes in the sink, hugging my kids, laughing, appreciating the eye candy of nature, reminding myself to breathe, strange lawn habits, posted schedules, creating, time managment via iPhone reminders, shared meals, long walks, coffee, and gratitude.

Theme of the day: JIVE

Yizzall bizzetter mizzove! The snow days are getting to me. Right now 5 kids (for real, just counted) are in my kitchen. I am hiding. FIVE kids, at least 4 of which have high IQs. Which means although they cannot individually best me ('cause I ain't no dummy), they can gang up on me. They just made lunch. With menus. And coffee. Seriously. No way I could make that up.

SO, I turn to Jive. Yes, Jive. Yes, I'm a white girl--or at least so far no blood relative has fessed up otherwise--but I was raised in the South and...yeah. Oran Juice Jones, "Walking in the Rain", now posted on my Facebook via YouTube. My step sister, "Ro" (we all get nicknames in blogland) is the ONLY other person in my universe who knows that song. And has it on her phone! Along with Double Dutch Bus by Frankie Smith...which also got linked on my FB. Izzokizzay! ADD then led my mind to the Jive scene from Airplane. What a hoot! (Translation: Wizzat a hizzoot!). Barbara Billingsly, may her "soul" RIP, nailed it.

I went into the kitchen and talked some Jive, sang a little, danced a little. My oldest asked to dance the polka, 'cause she is cool like that. I stole a sandwich from the sandwich tray. The Fab 5 trotted out the door with Walmart bags and a hammer. Yes, I gave the safety speech: "Don't put the bags on your heads 'cause you could DIE." and "Nobody plays with the hammer but Nature Boy." (Well it IS his hammer. File any complaints at YeahIsaiditblog.blogspot.com.

Just our version of a normal afternoon here in Dysfunction Junction.

Welcome to Dysfunction Junction!

Sometimes it's laughter that keeps us going. Crying is cathartic and cleansing; a good chuckle brings energy. And then there's this entire spectrum of emotions between. I'm Marti, aka Mama Shrink, a mom of 3 boisterous girls, psychotherapist and artist who also flies the flag of ADD.  Newly divorced, reconfiguring life, learning how to be myself again...the list goes on. Life goes on. Really. Whatever you've been through,  know you have the choice of how to react. I choose this.