Joys of Single Motherhood

I am sitting on couch surrounded by discarded wrapping paper, a few water glasses and a box of half-eaten chocolates. The kids are gone. They're off to their real Xmas-the one with their father, his wife, their adorable three-year old half-brother, their step-brother, aunt, uncle and cousin. Dinner will be fabulous. Step-Mom is a wonderful cook. Aunt D will bring her famous spinach balls and noodle kugel. It's a wonderful holiday tradition for them. They would disagree lovingly with my description of their Xmas with me as less than "real". They say it's small but no less important. This year it was smaller than usual as I've been on crutches since last Wednesday. I fell down the stairs carrying what we all recognize as a "mother lode". I was balancing a laptop top, several dirty plates mined from my daughter's room, a set of clothes for my son, and a couple of glasses from his man cave. But the most dangerous element turned out to be the aged &

Kid 1 hosted her first party on Friday. I was confined to bed with a badly sprained ankle so I was able to keep an ear on things. Most guests brought a hostess gift. There was beer. Awful canned beer and no liquor as far as she knew. The awfulness of the beer amuses me-- Budweiser and Coors Lite. I asked "why cans" - - turns out it's cheaper. I'd never had beer from a can until a few years ago. At the trailer park I was visiting with a beau, there was a partying legend-a Canadian retiree who regularly pounded back a case or more a day. He offered me a can of some beer--Pabst maybe--it tasted like I imagine monkey pee would. Recently a mom whose very shy son is generally not invited to these kinds of get- togethers asked me "what do they do at these parties?" I replied "the same thing adults do, they have a few drinks and visit with friends." So that's what they did. No one got overly inebriated although once the party food was gone, they di

I hate Christmas. I feel guilty about hating Christmas but only because of my kids. If I could fill the space under the tree with gifts I might feel differently but the cupboard is completely bare this December. We used to have totally out-of-control over the top expressions of Holiday cheer. Every thing they wanted, things they might want and things we hoped they'd want. (Educational toys fall under this last category. Not that we ever bought many.) We left cookies for Santa, left flour booted footprints to fool them. We had the whole nine yards. This year on Xmas morning there will be stocking filled mostly with candy and maybe one gift for each kid. Maybe we'll go to the diner for breakfast if there is enough money. They will be politely eager to get to their father's house across town where their true Christmas happens. At their father's house there will be piles of presents. Their little brother will be thrilled to see them. My kids will get clothes they'll n

I had a great Thanksgiving Day this year. I've always disliked this holiday. When I was a kid I often had the flu on that day. I was never thankful as I sat on the bathroom floor waiting to be sick again. Even those years when I was well, the food was usually bad. I remember one Thanksgiving meal where my uncle served the baked potatoes by pitching them down the table. You had to pay attention or risk eating a baked potato that had bounced off the guest beside you. I was only thankful when it was over. My take on Thanksgiving has always been: you either get great food and lousy conversation or mediocre food and good conversation. It's almost impossible to have both good food and entertaining company. I lucked out this year. A new friend offered to take me along with him to a bountiful feast at the home of a college buddy. The buddy is from a famous family but the day was free of any of that. People wore sneakers and jeans. The table was set for thirty but there were only tw