Experiencing life is only REAL when someone else is with you: to record it, to feel it, to talk about it later. Often times, being a single mother, I become overwhelmed with the continuous responsibility for another. When I am overwhelmed and turn to resentment, towards his father/Life/(input other scapegoat), I attempt to make light of the situation by reminding myself that even though only I deal with the obstacles, I am also the one who gets all the laughs, and the kisses, and the hand-holding at night. I am the one who Nova will always want first; the one that he will feel the strongest bond to in all his life. Selfish I know this. And some was a decision on my part, and a lot was just how it came to be of its own accord.
What makes me the most sad is that when you’re the single parent of a toddler, there’s little time for a camera shot, and there’s rarely anyone else around to catch a sweet, candid moment of you and your child together: while wrestling on the bed as the afternoon sunbeams filter through the tree outside into your room; taking a shower and mohawking each other’s hair with soap suds; baking cookies covered in more flour than the cookies themselves contain. These special moments will live on subconsciously for Nova, who will use them to help shape the boy and then man he will become. But I worry always that the memories of small moments will get lost in my mind. And where’s the proof? That we lived this way, that we had such picturesque moments.
Footnote: When discussing parenting I want to make it clear that I am well-read and understand that parenting is a complex issue and that everyone experiences this role in a different way. So in discussions of my experience, I am not minimizing those of another.
This blog is only for those who choose to read, and it’s away from the eyes of Nova’s dad, the rest of the family, and others who wouldn’t read this with an objective eye.