The (Single) Motherlode
The Single Motherlode. The Entertaining House
As I write this I am flat on my back - well almost - with a heating pad beneath it. it's a cold rainy Saturday and for that I am extremely grateful. I am at the moment that awful combination of being so overly exhausted that I cannot keep my eyes open and yet unable to settle down, the result of 3 cups of espresso I brewed, starting at 3:30 am. My house is a mess. The hampers are overflowing. My eyes are watering from the accumulation of dust. The garbage and recycling bins need to be brought into the garage from the curb where they now stand, assaulted by heavy pelting rain. The garbage in the kitchen needs to be emptied. It's not full but some godawful smell is emanating from there. I ignore it the best I can and venture off my bed only as needed.
My daughter is off touring college campuses with her father. My boys are home in the other room, eyes glued to large and small screens happy as pigs in shit that I cannot move - that I cannot tell them to get off their devices, that I cannot interact with them. They'll likely stay in their pajamas all day. There's no food in the house save for the basic staples, peanut butter, jelly, eggs, milk, bread. My older boy can cook. In fact he's a great cook. But he won't. My youngest needs me to do everything although he's totally capable. The living room is a mess. Pillows strewn across the floor. Crumbs on the coffee table, the floor... I shudder to think of where else. They are only 2 yet there are 5 empty glasses on the table. An empty plate. A napkin wadded up and on the floor. In the middle of the room. I can't stand it. I want to pick everything up. But I can't move. I must have asked them 10 times already. "Ok, Momma."
My bed is warm thanks to the flannel sheets and the warm heating pad. My room is chilly. The old air conditioner is still in the window but hasn't properly been installed. As a result cold air and dead leaves blow through the gaps on either side we failed to seal up. The rain pelts on the roof and against the window. The wind rustles the wet leaves. It's a perfect day to be home and unwell. I can blame the weather. My youngest wanted to go apple picking. This is the first year we haven't gone. I'm grateful to Mother Nature right now. Better to blame her than myself.
It's bad enough to be injured but it's far worse when you're a single parent. Forgive me in advance if it seems as though I'm whining. I tend to do so from time to time.
We all know that mothers are the original superheroes. But I hope you'll excuse me if I say that the single mother is indeed more. I think I have some authority here and will speak of this topic freely, openly and without hesitation. I will not sing my praises or toot my own horn. That's not who I am but I will tell you that life is more challenging, more complicated, more frustrating and in turns more rewarding. It is exhausting. And never-ending, as motherhood often is. There's no one to turn to and say take the baby in the middle of the night or, to pick a child up after school when you're running late from a meeting or business call. There's no one to help break up fights when you're on your last ounce of energy or to run to the store to pick up milk, Motrin, ink for the printer so the 5 page book report can be completed. There's no one to help with windows that are stuck, blocked drains, broken garage doors, take care of sick kids in the middle of the night or give you some relief in the morning after having been up all night... No one to zip on the back of your dress as you head out to a meeting, a dinner or an event. Or unzip it at the end of a long day. Sometimes it's that zipper leaves me the most frustrated of all.
Finally, there's no one to help you when you are ill or injured, to come to your rescue, offer you any reprieve or assistance.
When you're down and quite literally on your back and a child suddenly becomes ill. There's no one to help you. To help him. You are the parent, you are both parents. You would give anything to have someone help you. Anything.
And suddenly someone needs you while you are at your weakest. A little person in tears. A little person who is In agony and nothing will help but his Mommy. He is weak and powerless to an unrelenting migraine despite the medicine he has been given. He cries. He kicks. He screams. He can't get comfortable. You tell him to crawl into bed with you and you curl up next to him and rub his back and quietly sing the lullabies he loved as a baby. Suddenly your pain is meaningless and you would do anything to make him better. Anything. Even if that means going out in the pelting rain to find some Coca-Cola or something with caffeine. Even if sitting in a car is sheer agony. Because he's your child and you'll do anything in the world to help him feel better. As I slowly try to settle into my car seat and find a position that doesn't cause me to scream in agony, I turn on the seat warmer and hold my breath as I try to back the car out of the very narrow garage. The rain is hammering the car. I would love nothing more than to have someone do this for me. I would love nothing more than to have a little help but I don't have any at the moment and I need to suck it up as I wince with each bump and pot hole I drive over.
I return having taken longer than I wanted and find my 16 year old in my bed with his brother, soothing him, taking care of him in my absence. I stand in the doorway looking into the pitch black room. I am not able to see much but I can make out the outline of their shapes. I can her my older son quietly talking to my younger son, trying to help him feel better. I get a lump in my throat and feel the tears in my eyes. As I feel the sharp pain of sciatica radiating down my legs I'm more in tune with the incredible sense of pride I have for my boys. My heart overflows. Being a single mother can be relentlessly tough, exhausting, overwhelming. It can also be the most rewarding experience. Ever.