Mommy's Pen

A writer's notes on family

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Archives for July 2010

Fake Camping

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I am crafting this post from a tent in my backyard. There is a monstrous mosquito clinging to the outside of the screen door. Nora is finally asleep beside me. A fire engine just went by, sirens blaring, and made the neighborhood dogs howl. She slept right through it.

Some lovely things I remember about childhood:

  • sleeping in a tent
  • eating watermelon outside
  • getting a helium balloon
  • having my face painted
  • meeting someone’s (anyone’s) puppy
  • waterslides

I am ecstatic to make these memories for Nora. Even if it means peeing in my own backyard.  If you’ll excuse me…

Bedtime, Johnny Cash Style

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Bedtime, you’ve been living hell to me.
You’ve busted me ever since this child turned three.
I’ve seen her stall and I’ve seen her cry.
Every night I keep asking why.

Bedtime, I hate every minute of you.
You’ve cut me and you’ve scarred me through and through
And I’ll walk out a wiser, weaker woman;
Little Miss Toddler, you can’t understand.

Bedtime, there is so much good you could do
Do you think she’ll be sleeping when we’re through?
You bend my heart and mind and you warp my soul,
her desperate pleas turn my blood a little cold.

Bedtime, may you rot and burn in hell.
May this child sleep and may I live to tell.
May all the screaming not reach the neighborhood.
And may all my reasoning one day do some good.

Bedtime, I hate every minute of you.

If there is no music running through your head as you read this, click here.

All the Single Parents

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Touching my husband’s back is like setting your hand on a card table. It is swollen and hardened into a flat surface. He threw his back out 10 days ago while sweeping the driveway.  He’s limping, in pain, cranky.  But he’s doing his stretches and taking it easy.  We’re hoping he’ll be on the mend soon.

In the meantime, absolutely everything is left up to me.  All Nora care.  All house care.  All animal care.  All cooking.  The lawn has not been mowed in two weeks.  We’re running out of fresh laundry.  This morning Nora arrived at school with a blob of paint on her cheek that was there when I picked her up yesterday.  I am not getting to any of the things I love to do, like read other people’s blogs and write my own.

I am left with a profound respect for single parents.  Raising healthy, happy kids while working and taking care of a home is a feat we should all admire.  If you know any single parents who are holding it all together, please deliver this message from me, “You’re amazing.”  And offer to babysit for them tomorrow night.