Defeat

The job of a mother is to instruct, lead, mold. We teach our children right from wrong-- not only a healthy fear that prevents the wrong action, but ideally a good enough reason to all on their own choose right. We are raising beautiful children into truly good adults, this is our primary function, this is our main objective-- to send the child, unbroken, into the world as the best adult we can teach them to be. In some way, our job is really only to save the entire the world via the tools we give our children to build their own place in it.

Today, I failed in that seemingly simple job.

I didn't argue, I didn't explain, I didn't reason. I looked at her, saw what she was doing, and knew that she would hear nothing I had to say to contradict her action. She looked at me, and she knew it too, smirked condescendingly as I told her what I did. She heard the surrender in my voice, and she was relishing every second of it when I didn't say "Stop that right now young lady, you know that is not OK, we've talked about this before!", and she was delighted as I told her this instead:

"Please chew your toenails on the rug if you're going to do it standing up, if you fall on this floor you're going to hurt yourself."

Some days, I still can't believe I got away with it... I can't believe they gave me a child.

Things I have learned today

1)Baby sitters will never never never be an exact science-never. There is a perfectly good reason that we pay them $5 an hour.

2)Neither will napping after ones child has returned from school. Sadly, there will never be $5 an hour for that.

3)I don't actually "like" any piece of clothing that I own (if by "like" what I mean is feel even moderately attractive in). No really... not a single thing.

4)Once you throw lunch dates into the mix, it's difficult to know if you are on date number 2 or date number 3.

5) Once you are a 30 year old in the world of dating, you don't really remember what it is that is supposed to be different between date number 2 and date number 3.

And as I told my friend Courtney earlier-- napping went poorly, I don't like my outfit, but in the end it comes down to a few simple things before venturing out on a Friday night:

6)If I'm going on a date with an extremely attractive man, I've made it 30 years without really regretting any of my tattoos getting a divorce or losing a limb, and I've yet to utterly fail my child, then all I really need is a little eyeliner and a Red Bull and I'm good, baby.

Yeah, that's right... it's the small victories and a simple willingness to be happy with them some days, though regretfully I must admit, that's something I have no doubt I will forget and have to relearn at least a thousand more days to come.

I'm starting to think I'm really not like other girls.

In the past 48 hours, I have had a 10 hour date, made coffee plans with my ex boyfriend because we think it's important to get together once a week to keep our relationship good. I have dyed my hair 3 times, plucked my eyebrows twice, gone to church 2 times but not actually entered the church once, cooked and thrown away 2 tuna steaks, and will cook two more today before going to another church I have no intentions of entering.

Some of the phrases I have uttered are

"I think I love my snuggy more than you love your child"
"Would it be wrong for me to eat the flower off of my house plant?
"Let's get together just as the guys this time"
"Can I take a picture of your toenail?"

and my personal favorite...
"Do you mind if I do something really weird to your forehead?"

Tomorrow my daughter will be home and life will resume as I know it-- still utterly strange, but an entirely different kind of strange than it has been this weekend. But, I won't be any less strange (or even a different variety of such), that cannot be denied. Least of all now...now that it has been documented.

Every Morning A 5 year Old Crawls In My Bed And Starts Talking Crazy.

M: Mommy, do you love daddy, and like him too?

N: No... we're not really friends exactly. We don't get along very well, that's why we don't spend time together. We both love you though, that's most important, right?

M: No, I think everyone should love each other and Anna should sleep on the couch and you should sleep in a BIG bed with me and daddy.

N: Ohhh, do you (Many other things were said after this,vicious like a rabid dog and all of them completely silently)?

M: Yes. Maybe I can tell daddy you love him, and he will love you.

N: Don't. You. Dare.
(completely out loud, this statement)

M: OK, then. How about if I cut out a heart out of some red paper and then put some glitter on it and daddy will see it and think maybe that you made it and then I can give it to you (I realize the point is NOT my daughters concern for recycling, but here please let me pause and draw attention to it anyway) and you will think daddy gave it to you and then you'll both love each other and then you and daddy can get married and I don't have to marry you.

N: You got mad moxie kid, I'll give you that. That's a very fancy plan indeed. But, um, no. Your moms a babe, we're getting married, that's that. You, Morgan, are going to marry your mom.

M: Oh... too bad.

N:Mm, it's almost 7:30. We should get out of bed, huh?

M: Yeah. I'm really tired though... I don't even want to get up to go potty.

N: Oh, don't you dare.

*please note: This conversation did not take place this morning-- it's old hat.

Dating and the 30 year old woman (Part 2)

Yes, actually it was (sort of) a date. And what's more, an OK sort-of-date that didn't totally make me feel miserable that I had gone... who knew such a thing was even possible? Not this girl anymore, certainly. I mean, it wasn't Disneyland, but I didn't pretend to be sick or in early pregnancy, so there's that. It was an entirely fine time.

Take that, creepy world of 30 year old single mothers dating.

Dating and the 30 year old woman

I have found out in the past year that there are myriad ways to ask out a 30 year old woman, ways I would never have imagined could be mistaken for appropriate. Ways that until this past year, I don't know that anyone else did find appropriate. I am not sure if it is that I am 30 and with a child that allows general convention slip... 'that one, she's lucky to be asked out at all, no need to exhaust my A game here', or if I'm putting out some sort of a vibe myself-- somehow what I am wearing or standing or speaking or looking across the grocery store (or taxi) at them is different than last year, somehow it is saying that no no, I don't want the normal rules of social respect to apply to me. I'm beyond them... we're beyond them.

Some of those ways have included, but are not limited to:

-Giving me a call later, since I gave you your number... you know... via the taxi dispatch I called to hire you. To drive me, in your taxi. I mean, of course you're going to call me-- what else could that have meant?

-Following me around the grocery store after catching me dancing to the Rolling Stones in the frozen foods aisle I mistook for empty, "You like the stones though!" being the protest when I say I don't date. That, and following me further through the store to reason with me. I can see the moments after attack in the parking lot... "She was asking for it, just look what she was dancing to!"

- Introducing yourself as Tony Rice (who it so happens you really are-- and who it so happens I have never heard of) before attempting to dry-hump my leg to bad Karaoke at the bowling alley bar. Which may not have counted as asking me on a date... but may well have counted as an actual date.

-Telling me that my low self esteem is really unattractive and if I don't decide to be less shallow there's nothing else you can say to me (in fairness, this was in response not to a rejected date offer so much as a rejected booty call with the excuse that I'm tired and look like shit, so don't feel like a late night coffee guest-- I may be a little lame, but I'm not a complete fucking idiot, KJ.)

-Telling me that I'm scared of getting close because I don't think I deserve to be happy: But I do. I deserve to be happy with you. And while I thank you for your several follow up speculations on my clear social issues (as found blatantly on my Facebook posts), no, no... actually I still think it was a good idea not to go out with you a second time.

-The old 'Play Date/ Actual Date' switcheroo. Exactly what it sounds like, that one.

-Following me home from a walk with my daughter, then sometimes being on my porch when I get home and leaving before I get to the door. And once knocking at my door. And then coming back to my porch several more times and just standing there looking down until eventually I call the police... 2 times in a row. And not even bringing flowers.

The reason I'm fixated on this bad run is because recently a friend from my teenage years asked if I wanted to have coffee and catch up. Which sounds lovely, be it a date or not. But, being the 30 year old woman on the receiving end of these nightmare one sided love connections, I found myself hopping very quickly from 'Oh, that will be fun' to 'So wait, what does he think this is? Is this going to get creepy' to 'Maybe I should have some mace'. And he's kind of cute, and if I remember correctly he's sort of smart and funny as well. And maybe it will be a date (and quite honestly I am thinking that it probably is not). But in the long run, it sounds nice either way--what it comes down to is 'who gives a fuck, as long as he doesn't potentially keep human body parts in his basement'.

And, that's where I'm at. Coffee has become much more-- it has become not the potential for love and a future, bridesmaids selected and all of my unborn children being named before the coffee comes out like it may for some over-thinking neurotic girls in the dating world. No, for me it has the potential to need to change not my last name, but my phone number, locks, and maybe social security number. My desperation is not to get a date or have a future...

It is simply not to have to call the police at any point during the courtship process, least of all before exchanging names, that has become the challenge.