at some point in your life as a divorcee you come to the daunting realization that you are in fact doing too much. nature, God, or the minions of Mary Poppins all intended parenting to be a two person task. one person is suppose to be tending the domicile and the tiny humans while another is protecting the domicile and fighting off the evil demons that stalk tiny humans.
so no, you really don’t give a good damn about how well your lawn is maintained especially when one of the tiny humans who’s very life is in your hands comes down with the flu or a bad case of ‘you can’t make me’s’. in your universe there is you and then there is the world. and even when you have the very best support system in the entire universe you spend your nights in one of two states
- simultaneously reapplying to the government’s science program to have yourself cloned while negotiating a mountain of dirty clothes while trying to apply that ‘new math‘ from 1985 to the ‘newer math of 2009’ to this homework one of your tiny humans is now crying over and finding an outfit for tomorrow that will in fact not make you butt look big. OR
- sleeping the sleep of of a newborn cause one eye is open and your mind is still racing with a neverending list of ‘what’s next.’
so while many of your cohort who are partnered harbor fantasies of channing tatum or his equivalent knight and shining armored up leading them to a calgon ‘take me away’ fantasy, you stare into the midst at 4 am with fantasies that revolve around a handsome stranger showing up at your door asking for your car keys to fill your tank, get it detailed and finally get that thing out of the trunk that you quite frankly can’t reach but know is the source of the hack your kid makes every time he takes a sit in the back.
so no you don’t have time to make time for you even though you know that if you aren’t in shape the space you create for the tiny humans whose lives your hands are in is in dire jeopardy of failing apart, and this fact is one of the things that wake you up at 4 am. you are just everyday out here doing the very best you can with the deck you’ve been dealt and people have to get that it’s sleep depravation and the narrowed minded focus that you have to get your tiny human to full human size with minimal damage and the wherewithal to be self sufficient enough to pick a non abusive nursing home and not them that make you want to snap their neck when they ask you stupid questions like ‘what’s your favorite tv show.’
single parent fantasy no. 5 is having your own personal league of justice. you want superman and batman and aquaman to come fix the link in your roof, snake out your septic system, and make sure all the right permission slips are signed and turned in on time. you’d also like the wonder twins to use their resources to get that damn applesauce off the ceiling and clean the stank that has deposited behind your stove. you need wonder woman and her invisible airplane to hover over your kids’ school and keep them safe while you work everyday to keep them in hot pockets, piano lessons and sketchers.
also you really really really need a nap.