Joys of Single Motherhood

The rain is still with us. I am applying for full-time jobs. It's a sobering venture. I just finished an application for a traditional publication--very old, very respectable. The last question asked if I'd be willing to take a lie detector test... What would those questions be like? Do you appreciate the advantages of wearing supp hose at all times? Does "how to keep pesky kids off your lawn" appeal to you as a story topic? Should people keep ferrets as pets? Off to wash the dog. Really. He's stinky.

I was just reading my last post from 2016. What has changed? My son is now stable and for now his depression is gone and he is doing well at his school. He has discovered a love of history--finally an interest we share. And he has also discovered that he enjoys writing. Big reveal there. Part of his teenage rebellion or his MI has always been disdain/contempt for his parents' journalism careers. Kid 1 is an excellent writer. Kid 2 has struggled. He still refuses to use any punctuation. His teachers informed us at last month's conference that he doesn't need to use punctuation on the state finals in June. In other words, it won't count against him. As a journalist I'm appalled. As a mother, I guess I'm relieved and guilt-ridden. How the heck does a kid graduate from high school without knowing any punctuation? Re: rebellion, or in this case discerning mental illness from obnoxious teenage behavior. Showering regularly is still an issue. We go along with...

Long time lapse... A lot has happened since the last time I wrote here, Kid 1 happily starting sophomore year of college, no more house--yay, new school for Kid 2 that just might work. I don't feel like a single mother as much anymore. It's just Kid 2 and me in a spacious two-bedroom apartment. Actually, I have no idea if it's spacious. It fits us and it's larger than an RV, so its fine. Like many single people at this stage of life I've decided that dating/men isn't worth the trouble or the distraction. I seem to always choose badly and experience isn't making that any better. We have a dog now. Impossibly cute Havanese who is now 7 months old. I had heard people say that a dog is like another kid and I guess it's true. But this one doesn't need a college fund.

My star child turns 18 at the end of the month. She is finished with high school and she starts an internship on Monday. Seniors are required to do an internship 20 hours a week until graduation on June 20. A design company called "Project Gravitas", they make custom dresses for women who want to be taken seriously in the workplace. That's the "Gravitas" part. The lead designer is an FIT alum so she had a head start. Well, actually she didn't need a head start because this is the first time they've had an intern. She is very excited. They let her "help" the last time she was there and apparently she'll be doing the stuff she is interested in. Figuring out a creative-office wardrobe for a 17-year-old is turning out to be rather difficult. Banana Republic is "dumpy" as is J.Crew for the most part. Vince and Theory are great but their prices are not so great even on Poshmark . Shorts, not skirts, probably not dresses. No Bermuda sh...

Kid 1 and I have discovered a web site called Vinted where women--mostly 17 to 35 can sell the clothes in their closets that they either don't like anymore or don't wear. Some of the items are hilariously hideous and the manner in which photos are taken can be even funnier. There are manikins that have huge breasts, droopy breasts or strange postures and poses. One "Vintie" puts her clothes on a voluptuous half manikin that is either naked on the top or bottom depending on the item. Another puts dresses and tops on a hanger topped with a realistic cat head that looks like it was cut out like a paper doll. It appears to be a brindle. Anyway, it's voyeurism at its best but I find that aside from striped sweaters and jeans nothing catches my eye. I don't know what I want to wear anymore or how I want to look. I hated the high boots with skinny jeans look that hung around forever. I thought that trend would never die. Most everything I like now is sort of prepp...

I played three on three basketball yesterday morning. I think I last played about 20 years ago. The good news is that I can see the floor better, meaning I can anticipate and react faster. Mentally that is. Physically I am a bit of a wreck. I can't really run because of my back so instead I try to skittle as fast as I can from one basket to the other. I can't jump higher than about six inches but that may be my utter lack of conditioning. As for shooting--I had no muscle memory of even how to shoot. I had four points but only because I flung the ball upward while I stood under the basket. Today I woke up and the only thing that isn't sore are my hips. I had a blast and my surgeon reassured me this morning that unless I run two marathons a month or do something similarly bizarre, my hips will be fine. Basketball, volleyball, biking--it's all okay. After we played b-ball there was a holiday party hosted by the amazing woman who makes all the weekly arrangements for soccer...

I hate holidays. I try not to for the kids' sake but other than their birthdays, I would sit them all out. I think they're a waste of resources--and not just money. There is wrapping paper, those annoying and eternal styrofoam inserts and those stupid plastic price tag things. My ex grew up without any holiday celebrations including his birthdays. His "off-the-boat" Irish parents worshiped frugality. They viewed those who wasted money buying gifts as fools. The worst part is that the entire rest of the world takes holiday weeks off. That means that all the people you have calls into will not call back until you are REALLY on deadline. Grrrrrr.

I've not felt much like being funny lately. I think I'm indulging in "Empty Nest Syndrome" early. I like to get a jump on things--mostly negative things. The other day Kid 1 took her 9-year-old charge to the aquarium in Connecticut. They had a nice time until the car suffered a flat tire on 95 between exits. She called me sounding calm and asked "Mom, how do you change a flat tire?" Proud of my independent, capable daughter I replied "you take it out of the trunk under that felt lid and the jack is in there." Then I realized that at 108 lbs. soaking wet she wasn't strong enough to wrestle the full-size spare out of the trunk. Still reveling in my pride I said "Just get Alex to help you lift it out". With the slightest edge of incredulity in her voice she said "I can't let Alex out on the highway. He'll wander into traffic. (The "you must be a complete idiot" was the subtext.) "Don't we have AAA?"...

The kids and I agreed to care for a friend's Shiba Enu puppy for three days last week. I don't whether it's the dog, the owners or the breed but holy crud, what a nightmare. Moody, unpredictable, easy to displease, snappish and hyperactive, it was cute only until his family left. Oh, and completely untrained except for relieving himself, at which his performance was flawless. And he slept well at night, in his big cage in our basement. We are still glad he's gone and Roger has finally recovered his equilibrium. No more thoughts of doges for us.

It's rainy and cold today. Kid 1 left in a funk due to a "Sartorial Misfunction". I had put away the winter clothes including all black long-sleeved tops and she desperately "needed" one this morning. I suggested she put on a burgundy crew neck instead, which she did. Whoops. Wrong suggestion. Unfortunately, this looked worse than the Eileen Fisher cardigan (which I've had since before she was born) she'd had on over the original outfit.  But now it was too late to change back. What she required was a scoop-neck top. "Why did you put away all of my sweaters and long-sleeved shirts??" I reminded her that last week we had temperatures in the 80s but she claimed I was mistaken. I guess I was guilty of "misremembering". I told her I'd find the right top and bring it up to school. I went down to the basement and unearthed it and texted word of my triumph. In return, I got back a text that read "It's okay. Don't bother. I d...

I hate "College Talk". This is Kid 1's last year of high school and I am already dreading the many "momversations" I'm going to be lassoed into this year. This is a rich town with super competitive parents and kids. Everything is a contest. SAT scores, how much a parent spends on tutors, how many schools your kid is applying to, which schools your kid is applying to, blah, blah, blah. It bores me silly. Actually, I find it irksome. Extremely irksome because I don't care. For whatever reason--I guess I'm insecure--I resent the assumption that I'm going to take part in this insane senior year ritual. Because I'm not. We're not. We don't have a quarter of  a million dollars to spend on some private college which will pretty much guarantee that Kid 1 will be unemployed after graduation. And the truth is, if you think sending your kid to any small, expensive private college for four years is automatically worth the money, I think you'r...

My kids left on July 26 for a road trip to Tuscon, Arizona with their father, their step-mother, their adorable 4 year old half brother and their profoundly dumb--and I don't mean bark-less--Wheaten terrier. All of them in a Honda Pilot. They drove the mid-southern route: Pennyslvania, Virginia, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, New Mexico and finally Arizona. I'm afraid that at least via phone the most insightful comment on the trip so far is "the desert goes for as far as you can see and then it's just mountains". That was from New Mexico. From Oklahoma he said "everyone is fat and they smoke". He said this without disdain and with a bit of awe. It has been twenty years since I drove across country but I believe that everyone kid should do so. Every person actually. I was lucky. I went to college in the midwest and driving two or three gigantic states across wasn't unusual for us. We called it "car camping". I was always fascinated by th...

It is late afternoon on the second Saturday of my convalescence here. I am bored beyond words. I am so bored I just took a selfie. Then I spent five minutes editing it. It made no difference. I still need major Restylane and even then I look like my mother. That's the key--I look like my mother. Now, if you have a classically beautiful mother--most of us don't-this realization may be pleasing. For the rest of us, it's terrifying. I look like a slightly less wrinkled, definitely better coiffed, less crazed version of my mother. My hip incision is better looking. Sigh.

I am writing this from my hospital bed.The surgery went well. Both legs and knees feel better already. I am able to bend my right knee completely and when I do I can feel a lovely gliding sensation as the new joint does its duty. My butt muscles are sore from being cut just a little bit. Surgeon says his technique separates as few fibers as possible. He likens it cutting flank steak. Incisions look great and except for soreness in spots, the overall pain is minimal. I suspect I will wake up very sore in the morning. Second day onset and all that. Hospital experience has been fantastic so far. While I was waiting to go into the OR this morning I chatted up my surgeon after he mentioned that today is his daughter's birthday. Talk about a family business--his wife and all three of his kids are doctors and they are the fourth generation of doctors in the family. I wonder how common this is and how it affects the practice of medicine in this country?

Tomorrow is my last day of 'freedom'. My last day of not having to worry that if I move the wrong way my hip will dislocate and my hardware will pop out. After tomorrow I'm hoping my back and knees will stop feeling stiff and sore but I wonder if I will feel better immediately or will pain from the operation cancel out any immediate improvement. And most importantly, will I feel like a robot when much of each leg isn't really 'me'. On Thursday, Kid 2 and I ventured to the hospital to have the last of the checklist items crossed off pre-surgery. Kid 2 was my wheel man, meaning he pushed me in a wheelchair from admissions to the 4th floor Ortho floor, then down to the lab, then to radiology. It took about four hours. I thought it would take 90 minutes or so. The "Joint Class" took up most of that time. There were ten 'patients' and an equal number of family members stuffed into a small conference room on the Ortho floor. Getting everyone ou...

Some parents hope their children will grow up to be doctors, lawyers or hedge fund managers. I want my kids to grow up and take charge of their own lives and of their own vaccination records. Kid 1 starts off a month of pre-college classes tomorrow. And what did she need at the last minute? An up-to-date copy of her vaccination record. Say what? When is she going to be old enough NOT to need her vaccination records? I picture her at 35 with two tiny kids clinging to her knees. She is on the phone--with me--asking if I have a copy of her updated vaccination records. Hopefully I will be unable to take that call because I will be on a fabulous trip with a man who keeps his own vaccination records on a microchip implanted in his groin. Mine will be in my purse along with those of my kids.

Kid One now has her license to drive. This morning at 0830, she passed with flying colors. Pretty much. Actually she screwed up her parallel parking but the nice lady let her try again and she did fine. The first time she took it in January the parallel parking exercise was the only part of the test that went smoothly. She is thrilled. It's going to cost just $50 a month to insure her. I can't believe how little it's going to go up. One of those rare instances where the Internet is saving me money instead of eroding the value of my labor. Yay!

I am trying to clean house, the upstairs in particular, before surgery on July 15. But wait you say, there is plenty of time. Why now?  Because I clean slowly. It's hard to clean when you can't bend, swivel or kneel without pain. And apparently it's also hard for me to clean when I don't have a boyfriend or at least that's the conclusion I'm drawing based on the amount of dust I just found under the bed.

It's Mothers Day and I am about to drive Kid 1 over to feed my ex-husband's dog. This is the ex-husband whose wife does not speak to me. I find this amusing 99 per cent of the time . Today I am low on gas and as Queen Elizabeth and I like to say "we are not amused". That's the only downside to pet sitting gigs for Boy Child--the price of gas.

Never mind the locusts. On Monday I have having lithotripsy to hopefully pulverize an 8mm stone. Wherever it has been hiding out down there, it picked a comfy spot. I haven't had much pain or discomfort for the last week and a half. I know it's there though. It does play Peek-a-Boo every few days. I am aware of it right now. There's a squinchy sensation and I have the merest hint of heart burn even though I haven't eaten today. I'll be glad to have it gone. Then it's on to the hips. I need them replaced. Not sure about the right one but the left has apparently been bone on bone for some time. I see an orthopedic surgeon with an excellent reputation on Thursday.