Ice cream, Popsicles, Tonsils, Oh My!

I was blessed enough to land a new and amazing job this last November. It has been such a miracle in my life. I'm still working away with design and marketing, so really, what more could a girl ask for. So when I fell slightly ill over the holidays, and that slightly ill migrated into seriously ill, I was a little bit bummed. Doctor appointment after doctor appointment, I had turned up with a bunch of strange "kid" illnesses which I had never before experienced: tonsillitis, bronchitis, sinus infection, unidentified throat weirdness, ear aches, eye infection (??).

After finally seeing an ENT, I was diagnosed with a whopping case of Cryptic Tonsillitis, I made the first available appointment for a tonsillectomy. My fantastically wry doctor warned that anyone over 20 would face a "very difficult recovery" with at least "2 weeks flat out in bed". However, he did advise I could eat all the ice cream, popsicles and smoothies I wanted. Not great food for a non-ice cream lover (don't hate!).

Singles Life Happily Interrupted

I am putting this out to the Universe and anyone who will listen: My singles lifestyle was happily, and unexpectedly interrupted with the arrival of my niece. She is my child, as much as any child of mine every can or will be. I feed her, bathe her, play with her, scold her, tell her stories, take her camping, do homework with her, teach her to cook, sing with her, pray with her, pray for her, love her.

She has been a significant investment, as are all children. She is loaned to me by God, as are all children loaned to their parents. She frustrates me, she makes me laugh, she makes me ache, she makes me grow and stretch, she makes me cry. She is what I live for every day.

To those I know who cannot or refuse to attempt to understand why I would accept this beautiful child into my life, or can only say: you are selfish and broken. To not want children or not have them is understandable. Not everyone is cut out for parenthood or wants to be a parent, and that's OK. But to treat others differently, shun them or ignore them because of a child- that is unacceptable. Parents are not lepers. Single parents are not defective (or lepers).

I live a life without regret over decisions I have made, both good and bad. I accept my flaws and imperfections. I am not a saint or a superhero. But I will not apologize for being a parent, or for providing a life for a child who would not otherwise have one. To those who treat me differently because of this- I forgive you. But get over yourselves.

Wanted: An Help Meet

Don't usually take up blog space to complain, so this is a brief break from the norm. I'm tired, anxious and just over-worked, and I really need sex. Yes- I just said sex in my blog (calm down, Mom). So here is my ad for a husband. Totally serious. Mostly.
 
CSMBT (for those not in-the-know, that stands for Curvey, Single, Mixed-Breed Tia) seeks single male. Must be practicing LDS and have all of own teeth. Must like kids (not in a creepy way), as I am mom to my 10 yr old niece. Must also like or tolerate 2, small-breed dogs named after nerdy, fictional characters.

I am an excellent cook & home-keeper and am also happy to work outside of the home. I pack lunches and cook dinner. I don't like having to wake up early to cook breakfast, but will provide cereal. I love to clean & do laundry, but am not crazy about folding it.

I'm not looking for someone to take care of me, but to share a life with. I'm independent and encourage men to have hobbies (barring porn & nudie bars) outside of the home. Excellent kissers preferred. Nerd factor a total bonus & turn on. If you love Kung-fu, we might even be soul mates. Apply via email. Or show up at my place w/ a diet coke.

Tell your friends. Pass out my number. Blind dates are acceptable. The man who lands me will be lucky...and blessed. For reals yo.

Unconquered

My company had a mandatory meeting today- in a movie theater. Naturally, a movie followed the meeting. It made for a very long day, and I was less than cheerful to attend, since this meant extra travel and making baby sitting arrangements for my child. Plus, I'm a movie snob and the movie was a secret. I feared the employees would be forced to watch some lame chick flick (no offense, chick flick lovers!).

As it turned out, the meeting was brief, and the movie was an underdog story: "Invictus." The story is that of apartheid-era South Africa and Nelson Mandela's use of the national rugby team to unite a nation. The movie itself was nice enough. But I cried during and after, and probably will again. President Mandela spent 27 years in prison for his political beliefs, then rallied for and forgave the very people who put him in prison. In the movie (don't quote me on real-life), Mandela says the words of a poem are what carried him through his darkest hours of captivity on Robben Island.

Will I Always Feel This Way?

Empty by Ray LaMontagne
This has been on repeat in my head, and now on my iPod. I'm feeling a bit like the title of the song.

A Lesson in Genetics

It's official. I've turned into my parents. I'm not saying this is a bad thing. I've got seriously awesome parents. But it truly caught me off guard.

The other night, I found myself wandering around the house, turning of lights to unoccupied rooms, muttering under my breath about what a waste of electricity. Thanks mom. I've turned into a lights-off freak. And tonight, my kid tried to convince me that she needs a laptop (note: I do not believe that 10 year-olds need laptops. Ask me why in private and we can chat for hours). The discussion went back and forth, always with a kind but firm, "no" from my end. Finally, in an effort to underscore the expense of a laptop I said, "Yeah- lets go buy one tonight. But first we have to go home and pick money off the money tree." Oh. My. Gosh! Thanks dad. I knew that money tree line would come in handy one day...Before you know it, I'm going to be threatening to turn the car around. Yikes.

Come to think of it, my parents are amazing people- they raised 3 nutty kids and we all survived into adulthood with minimal emotional scarring/therapy (Mom- that's a joke- we're OK). If I had to pick 2 people to emulate, my parents are right up there. I guess if I look at this the right way, parenting is bringing out the best in me, genetically speaking, of course.

Card-Carrying Member

So, much to the dread of kids across the state, school in UT starts on August 23rd. Friends & family have helped out with my kid's wardrobe and school supplies. I've got her back on the official school bed time schedule (yes- my kid is one of those who needs a bedtime). And to top off our pre-school year fun: school enrollment night. I've never actually been to one before, so this was a first. Apparently you get to update all of your contact info, make an appointment to meet your kid's teacher and sign a seemingly endless pile of consent papers.

As I was "checking out" at the end of all of this hoopla, I was asked if I wanted to join the PTA, to which I quickly responded, "No thank you." Once the kind, soccer-mom looking woman explained the importance of joining the PTA, even if you couldn't actively participate (my issue, as a single mom), I was hooked. I handed over my $5 to show parental solidarity! It felt reverent, and almost patriotic in a very weird way. Then to my utter surprise and delight, soccer-mom handed me an official PTA membership card.

By the time I got back out to my car, I was practically giddy. I'm a member of the PTA. Hi, I'm a PTA member at my kid's school. Nice to meet you, I belong to my kid's PTA. For some bizarre reason, it was as if joining the Morningside Elementary PTA had transformed me from mere aunt status to officially awesome mom status, with a card to prove it. Go figure. Yeah- I work full time, don't get lunch breaks and will probably never be the mom who gets to herd kids on cool field trips or decorate for assemblies. But for that moment in time, I felt legit. Not an like the impostor mom faking her way through the day (which is how I generally feel).

So yeah...I'm a card-carrying member of the PTA. I'll bake you cupcakes, I just won't be able to take them to class. But I can show you my official membership card...