Nothing like having a newborn to remind me of how freaking hard it would be to be a single mom. Even when my husband bugs, I would be hard-pressed to cut him loose just so I can say, “Can you get me a glass of water?” while I am nursing. Seriously, he’d probably have hit me across the mouth before I’d want to go it alone. I don’t have that much energy. Unless I had gobs of money for the round the clock help… then unmarried woman here I come!
Here’s a wacky tale of an obnoxious divorce.
A mom brain moment? I was on the receiving end of this one. Vivien and I were eagerly anticipating the company of our friends DJ and her daughter Charlie. We’d both get a girlfriend to hang with. I thought ahead and got a nice plate of Italian cold cuts, cheese, and fruit during the day. I had doctored up the pasta dish from last night (a night my chef husband Mark was home so it was good) and had pizza for the girls. I bought them both lollipops, even though I couldn’t remember if this was a mom who was weird about sugar. I uncorked the bottle of white and let Viv watch another Go Diego Go and waited. And waited.
Now, Mark works five nights a week so most nights I’m a single mom. Most gals aren’t as available as I am since they feel they need to spend the evenings with their man. Lucky for me DJ is a single mom. So we waited.
I was really burnt from work and the impending move. Boy, was it going to be nice to talk to an educated woman while my daughter ran around the apartment happy with her buddy. Vivien picked the plates she and Charlie would eat off of. She even set her little table. Finally after an hour of waiting I called. DJ thought we were getting together the next night. This wasn’t my brain fart. They were in their jammies and done for their night. She apologized. Vivien was upset so I put her on the phone with Charlie where she asked in her cute little voice, “What happened Charlie?” My friend emailed later and said, “tomorrow can mean whatever that mom thinks it means.” Which is kind of funny.
I went to go cut the pizza for Vivien and couldn’t find the pizza cutter. Feeling that this hidden utensil was one more ding to my day and remembering the bit about being a subversive mom I had read on City Mamma, I picked up the scissors and cut the pizza with it. A pizza cutter can mean whatever that mom thinks it means.