Dear DSHS,
Sorry about that nasty remark in yesterday's post. It was uncalled for.
Sincerely,
Tiffany
P.S. Got your check in the mail today. If I were a cartoon, there'd be dollar signs in place of my pupils! Yeah, baby!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
The Super Full-Time Employed Single Mommy of a Three Year Old: Exposed!
My bed: made!
Binta's bed: made!
Laundry: scattered all over the house. Oh, well...
In the Attic: What it's really like to be a single mom
What kind of post does one write when she should be at work the first day back from Spring Break, but isn't, due to the fact that her child's daycare is closed? You write The Truth About the Hard Life as a Single Parent!
Beginning, of course, with:
1. When your child's daycare is suddenly closed due to Easter Monday (or any other reason for daycare closure), you have to call in sick to stay home with your child.
2. Any time your child is sick, you must stay at home with your child.
3. Any time you yourself are sick, you hope that it is on a week day, so that you may take your child to daycare so you can take lots of drowsiness-causing medication and bury yourself under a thick pile of blankets until 4:30 PM, at which time you must go pick your child up from daycare.
4. If however, you wind up sick on a weekend (or a day your daycare is closed, like Easter Monday) you still have to feed, dress, and change diapers (or clean up potty accidents, thank god we're out of diapers now!), even though you feel like sticking your head in the disposal and turning it on.
So, as you can see, sickness of any kind causes all kinds of challenges for the single parent. Keep in mind, I have the same number of sick days as employees who are married, and employees who have no children at all. Fortunately, Binta and I have had a remarkably healthy year so far!
It's hard to get time with other adults:
5. When a guest visits you, you get about 25% of the guest's time, as your child seizes upon the new target of her attention.
6. When you go to visit a friend, you must pack a bag of activities to occupy your child while away from home. Keep in mind, however, that your child will want nothing to do with anything you packed. She will, of course, find fascination with every possible non-child proofed item in your friend's house. (Especially dangerous are your childless friends. Visits with them are an exercise in anxiety, as you pull one breakable knick-knack after another out of her hand and chase her from one uncovered outlet to the next).
Spending all of your time with a child has its challenges:
7. You crave adult conversation like warm, salted, buttery popcorn.
8. Thus, you eat a lot of popcorn.
9. You are held "captive" in your own home every night after 8:30. That's right, no going out for a latte or a pint of ice cream. After you put your kid in bed, there's no going out again until morning.
10. Sometimes you discover you need something really important, like milk for the next morning, or heartburn medication for all the popcorn you've been eating. Nope. Must wait until AM.
You find out that you're not the parent you thought you'd be, and you cease from judging other parents on their parenting decisions:
11. You use the TV as a babysitter way more than you ever thought you would.
12. You come to love Barney even more than your child, because he will guarantee you a minimum of 26 uninterrupted minutes of peace.
13. Your house is always trashed, and there never seems to be a good enough reason to clean.
14. You hear yourself snap at your child with impatience when she continues to whine or cry.
15. When you are able to stop yourself from snapping at her, it's due to the fact that you have barricaded yourself into your room, holding on to the doorknob so she can't enter. If you're in the car, you continue to talk to yourself: "I will remain calm. I am at peace." Repeat as necessary.
16. On occasion, you give in to the bribe strategy, to avoid that one last issue that you know will send you right over the edge if she decides to fight.
It's really hard to not have a second person to call in: like an understudy, a relief pitcher, or just the next runner in the relay. It's all you. All day. Every day.
You learn new things about government organizations that address child support enforcement:
17. DSHS is CRAP!
But, of course, this post would not be complete, without the biggest item on the list describing life as a single parent:
18. You get to take ALL of the credit for how cool your kid is! Every time someone comments about how cute, polite, well-spoken, clever, entertaining, and intelligent your child is, you get to smile and respond, "Thank you. I think she's pretty __________, too!" Knowing that you, all by yourself, are solely responsible for all of the wonderful things your child is learning and the close, loving relationship that you share.
And I do!
Binta's bed: made!
Laundry: scattered all over the house. Oh, well...
In the Attic: What it's really like to be a single mom
What kind of post does one write when she should be at work the first day back from Spring Break, but isn't, due to the fact that her child's daycare is closed? You write The Truth About the Hard Life as a Single Parent!
Beginning, of course, with:
1. When your child's daycare is suddenly closed due to Easter Monday (or any other reason for daycare closure), you have to call in sick to stay home with your child.
2. Any time your child is sick, you must stay at home with your child.
3. Any time you yourself are sick, you hope that it is on a week day, so that you may take your child to daycare so you can take lots of drowsiness-causing medication and bury yourself under a thick pile of blankets until 4:30 PM, at which time you must go pick your child up from daycare.
4. If however, you wind up sick on a weekend (or a day your daycare is closed, like Easter Monday) you still have to feed, dress, and change diapers (or clean up potty accidents, thank god we're out of diapers now!), even though you feel like sticking your head in the disposal and turning it on.
So, as you can see, sickness of any kind causes all kinds of challenges for the single parent. Keep in mind, I have the same number of sick days as employees who are married, and employees who have no children at all. Fortunately, Binta and I have had a remarkably healthy year so far!
It's hard to get time with other adults:
5. When a guest visits you, you get about 25% of the guest's time, as your child seizes upon the new target of her attention.
6. When you go to visit a friend, you must pack a bag of activities to occupy your child while away from home. Keep in mind, however, that your child will want nothing to do with anything you packed. She will, of course, find fascination with every possible non-child proofed item in your friend's house. (Especially dangerous are your childless friends. Visits with them are an exercise in anxiety, as you pull one breakable knick-knack after another out of her hand and chase her from one uncovered outlet to the next).
Spending all of your time with a child has its challenges:
7. You crave adult conversation like warm, salted, buttery popcorn.
8. Thus, you eat a lot of popcorn.
9. You are held "captive" in your own home every night after 8:30. That's right, no going out for a latte or a pint of ice cream. After you put your kid in bed, there's no going out again until morning.
10. Sometimes you discover you need something really important, like milk for the next morning, or heartburn medication for all the popcorn you've been eating. Nope. Must wait until AM.
You find out that you're not the parent you thought you'd be, and you cease from judging other parents on their parenting decisions:
11. You use the TV as a babysitter way more than you ever thought you would.
12. You come to love Barney even more than your child, because he will guarantee you a minimum of 26 uninterrupted minutes of peace.
13. Your house is always trashed, and there never seems to be a good enough reason to clean.
14. You hear yourself snap at your child with impatience when she continues to whine or cry.
15. When you are able to stop yourself from snapping at her, it's due to the fact that you have barricaded yourself into your room, holding on to the doorknob so she can't enter. If you're in the car, you continue to talk to yourself: "I will remain calm. I am at peace." Repeat as necessary.
16. On occasion, you give in to the bribe strategy, to avoid that one last issue that you know will send you right over the edge if she decides to fight.
It's really hard to not have a second person to call in: like an understudy, a relief pitcher, or just the next runner in the relay. It's all you. All day. Every day.
You learn new things about government organizations that address child support enforcement:
17. DSHS is CRAP!
But, of course, this post would not be complete, without the biggest item on the list describing life as a single parent:
18. You get to take ALL of the credit for how cool your kid is! Every time someone comments about how cute, polite, well-spoken, clever, entertaining, and intelligent your child is, you get to smile and respond, "Thank you. I think she's pretty __________, too!" Knowing that you, all by yourself, are solely responsible for all of the wonderful things your child is learning and the close, loving relationship that you share.
And I do!
Thursday, April 13, 2006
March 26
So, I haven't been around for a while. It's not that I didn't want to post. For some time now, I've been putting off posting because I wasn't convinced that I would be able to succinctly write the post(s) that've been rattling around in my head for the past several weeks. (Plus, I'm not entirely sure that anyone is even reading this other than Mom!)
I wanted to post near in mid-March, as I noticed the first signs of spring. The timing is about the same every year, but the seasonal changes always seem to come as a surprise to me. All of a sudden, discovering sunbreaks in mid-afternoon. Carrying my jacket home, rather than wearing it. Yesterday, naked tree limbs poked the sky; now, they're bursting with pink blossoms. The clean, crisp-yet-not-too-cold smell in the morning air. The sounds of birds- sweet-sounding birds, not nasty crows- on our way to school.
I had wanted to post my discovery that spring has an entirely new meaning for me now. I had formerly enjoyed the signs of life as the earth renewed itself after each winter. But now, with each sign of spring, I am assaulted with memories of what it was like the wet morning that I went to work as usual, listening to the birds, inhaling the clean air, and carrying my jacket home after just finding out that my brother was dead.
I had next intended to post The Day, imagining a post that would detail the events and emotions from start to end. Beginning with the way I woke up, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on my chest. A morning call to Dad, looking through pictures, listening to "Derek music." When Binta came into my room to find me crying, I explained that I was missing Derek. She offered such sweetly innocent words of comfort, which only intensified my pain. She told me, "If you're good, Uncle Derek might bring you a present." When I told her that he couldn't do that, because he isn't alive any more, she suggested we wake him up.
Later on in the day, she and I visited the site of his accident. I drove along the highway in the rain, searching for visual landmarks that I could remember. After finally settling on a "close enough" location, we got out and left some orange tulips that Binta had selected from the store. She asked, "Is Uncle Derek here?" And I told her that he's not, but I know she still does not understand.
Dinner was at Bahama Breeze, with Mom, Larry, and five of Derek's close friends. I love being with the guys, because they remind me so much of him. The words and phrases they use, mannerisms, and the ways they interact with one another. It's all just so "Derek." Conversation comes easy with everyone, until it inevitably shifts to the topic of cars, in which Mom and I sit back and observe. I look around the table at these fine people, enjoying the evening together, and can't help but find myself thinking about the one person who is missing from dinner. I look at how the boys are growing and changing. John has a new job, Sean has moved, and Jeremy has a new hairstyle. I imagine the time that they will have grown so much that Derek wouldn't recognize them if he saw them, and it leaves me heartbroken.
I went to sleep feeling full and empty at the same time. I reflected on the fact that in the passing of this second anniversary of my brother's death, only one person acknowledged that the anniversary was approaching. But I received no call or card on Sunday. Initially, I had feelings of disappointment and sadness, that no one thought to reach out during this time. But then, it dawned on me. It's not that no one wanted to reach out. It's that they didn't know. The rest of the world has forgotten the significance of March 26th. For everyone else, other than the little party that met around that table for dinner, March 26th was just another Sunday. But for me, March 26 (or any 26th, for that matter) brings sadness. I will never again have the luxury of enjoying the start of spring in the same way.
So, in the weeks following that evening, up until today, I have been thinking (with much guilt) about the little blog that I had been neglecting. It feels good to have given some closure to these past few weeks. I look forward to moving on from here.
I wanted to post near in mid-March, as I noticed the first signs of spring. The timing is about the same every year, but the seasonal changes always seem to come as a surprise to me. All of a sudden, discovering sunbreaks in mid-afternoon. Carrying my jacket home, rather than wearing it. Yesterday, naked tree limbs poked the sky; now, they're bursting with pink blossoms. The clean, crisp-yet-not-too-cold smell in the morning air. The sounds of birds- sweet-sounding birds, not nasty crows- on our way to school.
I had wanted to post my discovery that spring has an entirely new meaning for me now. I had formerly enjoyed the signs of life as the earth renewed itself after each winter. But now, with each sign of spring, I am assaulted with memories of what it was like the wet morning that I went to work as usual, listening to the birds, inhaling the clean air, and carrying my jacket home after just finding out that my brother was dead.
I had next intended to post The Day, imagining a post that would detail the events and emotions from start to end. Beginning with the way I woke up, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on my chest. A morning call to Dad, looking through pictures, listening to "Derek music." When Binta came into my room to find me crying, I explained that I was missing Derek. She offered such sweetly innocent words of comfort, which only intensified my pain. She told me, "If you're good, Uncle Derek might bring you a present." When I told her that he couldn't do that, because he isn't alive any more, she suggested we wake him up.
Later on in the day, she and I visited the site of his accident. I drove along the highway in the rain, searching for visual landmarks that I could remember. After finally settling on a "close enough" location, we got out and left some orange tulips that Binta had selected from the store. She asked, "Is Uncle Derek here?" And I told her that he's not, but I know she still does not understand.
Dinner was at Bahama Breeze, with Mom, Larry, and five of Derek's close friends. I love being with the guys, because they remind me so much of him. The words and phrases they use, mannerisms, and the ways they interact with one another. It's all just so "Derek." Conversation comes easy with everyone, until it inevitably shifts to the topic of cars, in which Mom and I sit back and observe. I look around the table at these fine people, enjoying the evening together, and can't help but find myself thinking about the one person who is missing from dinner. I look at how the boys are growing and changing. John has a new job, Sean has moved, and Jeremy has a new hairstyle. I imagine the time that they will have grown so much that Derek wouldn't recognize them if he saw them, and it leaves me heartbroken.
I went to sleep feeling full and empty at the same time. I reflected on the fact that in the passing of this second anniversary of my brother's death, only one person acknowledged that the anniversary was approaching. But I received no call or card on Sunday. Initially, I had feelings of disappointment and sadness, that no one thought to reach out during this time. But then, it dawned on me. It's not that no one wanted to reach out. It's that they didn't know. The rest of the world has forgotten the significance of March 26th. For everyone else, other than the little party that met around that table for dinner, March 26th was just another Sunday. But for me, March 26 (or any 26th, for that matter) brings sadness. I will never again have the luxury of enjoying the start of spring in the same way.
So, in the weeks following that evening, up until today, I have been thinking (with much guilt) about the little blog that I had been neglecting. It feels good to have given some closure to these past few weeks. I look forward to moving on from here.
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