Rescued

Two years ago I found myself FRANTICALLY racing around town to wrap up some last minute holiday errands.  I had a BRILLIANT idea to buy baby boy a hamster for x-mas; working off of my own personal childhood memories of owning a fluffy little rodent I could call my very own.  I'm a mom who CLEARLY thinks ahead; I purchased the rodent, and all related equipment, food and toys a week before the holiday.  The cage was stashed in the roommate's bedroom (hidden, with his permission), and my game-plan included playing with the hamster every single night leading up to Christmas morning to ensure he was accustomed to people.

Much to my dismay, my brilliant plan COMPLETELY BACKFIRED IN MAH FACE.  The little fucker was vicious.  It kept biting me, and on one occasion I flung the tiny beast monster across the room because the chunk of hand it had tried taking out of my hand caught me off guard.  My initial reaction was to put on heavy duty leather working gloves; because that was going to solve ALL of my problems.

All the gloves did was allow the beast monster to visibly bite at my hand without me throwing it across the room.  I was pissed and felt super duped that the pet store had sold me a carnivorous hamster; it must have had some rodent form of rabies, or had been in a line of an inbred trafficked hamster whore house, because the hamsters when I was a little girl were cute and cuddly.

It was obvious what I had to do.....return the little fucker four days before Christmas and try to exchange it for a larger, more "docile" breed.

I confidently marched into the pet store, returned the beast monster and left with an even larger beast monster, and felt like I had done my due diligence as Mom of the Year....until I got home and realized I had neglected to take the small beast-monster supplies with me when I exchanged the carnivore for one that was three times its size.

The next morning, bright and early, I snuck away to complete my holiday preparation by getting the RIGHT sized house, etc.

When I walked into the pet store, a bit annoyed but pleased that I was going to surprise baby boy with the gift of life (haha, yeah), I saw an "Adoption Day" sign.  I'm a glutton for punishment, so I HAD to check out the pet offerings and see what kind of cuteness was available.  I turn the corner holding all of my NEW beast supplies, and was greeted by the sweetest, fluffiest little puppy.  

I'm not necessarily one to believe in love at first site (at least as far as humans were concerned) but slap me sideways and call me Harry -- we fell in love the second we met each other.  His story was tragic; he was found with a litter of three on a reservation in Minnesota where they estimated he and his two sisters were approximately 10-weeks old.  He'd been transferred to his current rescue agency, and had been with a foster family for approximately three weeks.

Long story short - by the end of the day I left the pet store without the new hamster supplies, with a puppy instead, and a crystal clear conscious at the decision to abandon ship on giving baby boy a hamster (read: beast monster) for Christmas.

I tip-toed through the conundrum of how to explain to baby boy the fact that I left in the morning only to return with a puppy.  In the interest of the season, I lied.  I told him a co-worker had an emergency and asked me to watch their dog for a couple of days.  My lie ballooned when I told him the puppy hadn't been named; and that we should help my coworker out and pick out a name for the dog.  

Christmas eve, baby boy was greeted with the final present of the evening; a card that told him the truth - the dog was ours - accompanied by a large gift bag that had a dog bed puppy shampoo, a leash and a few dog toys.  

Adopting a rescue dog was foreign to me.  Not only did the adoption agency grill me for a couple of hours, I'm surprised they didn't require finger prints and blood.  I don't blame them for their paranoia; most of their animals had a tough past, and their hearts are invested in the mission of finding these little furry beings with "forever-homes."  

I grew up with dogs, but never in my life have I had a dog affect me in such a powerful way.  Sometimes I feel as though he wants to start blurting out full sentences; there's so much to be said in his hilarious "woofs," and oddball mannerisms.  He's something else....and on top of everything, has an affinity for shoe laces, underwear, and tank-top straps.  If he wasn't so damn cute he'd be back on the streets.  Fer Realz.

Swallowing my sarcasm for a minute; he's the best thing that has happened to me and to baby boy.  He's a puppy brother, snuggling, amazing little fluff ball.  I love him.  He loves us.  I'm forever converted to rescuing animals; it's a spontaneous choice that has forever changed my life.

sidebar:  For as much as I will stand behind rescuing dogs/cats, there is a special place in hell for carnivorous hamsters; #truth.

Hope.

I sit in the office, unable to focus on the unread emails piling up in my inbox.  A piece of me feels empty, alone and in need of comfort.  A piece of me I am becoming more and more convinced I may have been born without.  I can't place my finger on it.  I can't explain more than the simple fact that I am acknowledging something is missing.  I don't know what this something is, but it's gone, and I feel incomplete.

I sit at my desk, wondering where to begin; not just with work but with my life, suffocating me as each minute passes.  The feeling of isolation can be unbearable, and if you've never experienced it, be grateful. 

Typing out texts, only to not send them because there's no place or time to be vulnerable today.  Nobody wants to hear it; not co workers, the world of facebook.  Nobody.

I am equally to blame for wanting to keep my feelings to myself today.  I'm not the type of person to blame others, and I'm sure as hell not going to start today.  Or is that my problem?  Do I want to bear responsibility for too many things around me, so much so that I suffocate myself? 

I'm happy with my life 353 days a year.  It's only about one day, every month, that I find myself disgusted, isolated and alone.  I wonder if I ever were to let someone in; would they be able to handle me on these dark seemingly hopeless days?  I fear the worst, and don't dare expect the best; although would expecting the best be some sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy? 

In one of my classes we are studying a woman from the 1940's who undertook a moral journey.  Since the beginning to class, I almost feel like the class should be studying me.  I go back and forth with my own morals (or lack thereof) on a regular basis.  The more we study her, perhaps the more I'll begin to understand myself; as I see far too many debaucherous comparisons between our lives (save for the fact that I'm not living in the 40's, nor am I jewish).

I'm ready for my life to adopt a cheesy saying like "it's come full circle."  (at least I think I'm ready).  I sure as hell know these once a month repeats of feeling gross are becoming less and less enjoyable as each one passes.

At least there are 353 days in a year that I'm more content than any one of those twelve.  Hope.

The Process

Writing out my thoughts and feelings sometimes feels more of a curse than a blessing.  I fall victim to instant self analysis on a regular basis, and when I purge my analysis out into concrete words, it never ceases to fail that by the next day life has found a way to change. 

The self reflection I've done the past few days is unreal.  My friends have told me I know what I should do, but recognize the "right thing" is hard, if not impossible at times.  There's a billion "what-if" scenarios constantly playing out in my mind.

What if he never leaves  his wife?
What if he leaves his wife and things with us don't work out?
What if ...
What if...
What if...

My heart and head are still telling me to do the POLAR OPPOSITE.  So what does and/or should one listen to when faced with conflicting thoughts and feelings?

I could sit on a park bench and stare into nothing for hours, and still not come up with the right answer. 

Do I stop answering his calls?  Do I keep speaking with him?  How can I be a supportive friend even though clear lines have been crossed both in person, and via text message?  How will I know what the right choice is?

I just want to scream.

But screaming would not only peg me as a crazy person....I don't think it would resolve anything.

To search for a resolution I feel my first step is to back away and stop analyzing.  If I can prevent him from consuming my thoughts, and let things "be" I hope I'll fall upon the correct answer for me and for what might be to come.

So what does one do when they're trying to just "be"?  They dive into a new semester in school, steal extra hugs from her son, join a fantasy football league and agree to play on a brand spankin new co-ed softball team.  I think it's safe to say I'm going to be a busy girl the next few months, regardless of how things turn out with my (lack thereof) love life.

My Dream.

Lately, my internal dialogue has been tugging at my soul. I'm happy being single. I have no expectations, conflict, disappointment....at least none of those things I can blame on someone else. Being single is eye opening. It forces you to hold yourself accountable, even when you really don't want to, or try to resist accountability with all of your might.

I really am happy being single, while simultaneously wondering if I truly ever will cross paths with my one true love. A man who will look at me and melt my soul. A man who will see, feel and believe I deserve his love, and will believe he deserves mine equally. I dream and wonder if it will ever happen for me.

I go to sleep and ask my brain to dream of my wedding day, the day when it's my turn in the realm of romance. Most of the time, I dream of myself standing on a beach holding his hands....Everyone and no one is there. We are surrounded by love, and it is not only about me, but about us and the life we're starting together. There's a light breeze, and the sky has electric hues of blue with not a cloud in the sky. The day is perfect....

Then I wake up...my perfect dream of my wedding day almost haunts me because it feels so out of reach. It feels like too much of a fantasy world to be realistic for me, but dammit, I deserve it. With billions of people in the world I'm bound to find him, the man who will love me, and whom I will love. The man I deem crazy enough to put up with my silly antics.

Tonight, I sit at my computer continuing to survive single plus one, and tonight, I'll go to sleep being happy and content with myself and my life.

Plucking Flower Petals

He likes me....
He likes me not...
HE LIKES ME?!

Emails between me and Alaska seemed to have faded to non-existent. In October, we sent a dozen short messages back and forth. I (tried my damndest) to be casual and not make a big deal out of it (but, lets face it, inside I was screaming with excitement and the thought of "what could be" permeated my veins, I digress).

As spontaneous as the emails were when he first contacted me, POOF, he stopped responding.

I suppose this is to be expected when:

1. You really don't know each other
2. You live a country away from one another
3. It was just one night

I didn't lose sleep over it (which surprised me as much as I'm sure it surprises you). I moved on with my life...que serra serra.

And, just like before, POOF...My inbox alerts me to an email from him this past Saturday. Apologizing for not checking his email often. Saying he knows it's been a while since we've seen each other, and would love for me to send him some pictures...because, as long as it's been, he wants to see me again.

I am extremely cautious this minuscule internet-driven romance will go anywhere...I refuse to invest TOO much...but, damn. I like him. I like the small amount I know about him. I like that, even though some responses have taken a little long, he has kept responding. I like remembering back to that night...his eyes, lips, touch, and smell.

I like him.

Happy Holidays

Driving into work this morning, the etiquette of gift giving for the holidays was the pressing topic of the morning. I love love LOVE the holidays. The food, laughter, the huge snowflakes, the non-stop holiday music on the radio and glistening holiday lights that pollute the night....The holiday season always feels magical to me.

Am I religious? Not in the least. I like to consider myself a "recovering Catholic." I haven't been to church in as long as I can remember...In fact, the last time I attended "mass" as a single-unwed-mother I felt like a walking sinner, with guilt seeping out of me to the point where I feel too horrible to justify attending church....I was waiting for the white haired congregation to force me into a corner and tattoo the Scarlett letter on my forehead (yeah, that's a bit of an exaggeration...point being, I don't like going to church).

Christmas is, in fact, a religious holiday (DUH....it has the word Christ in it...no lie)....but to me, it's not about the Christ-factor...it's about getting together and sharing moments with close friends and family, usually over a delicious meal, or sitting around a living room....we make time for each other around the holidays. It's an occassion that's not a wedding or a funeral where we sit down, take deep breaths, and (of course) overeat to the point of feeling the onset of a food-coma to be inevitable.

This is Me.

• I like to wear high heels, and I'm 5'9.
• I would choose a dress or a skirt over shorts or capris ANY day of the week.
• I typically take a half hour to get ready...MAYBE 45 minutes if a shower is involved.
• I don't mind getting dirty.
• I love camping even though I haven't been hard core camping in years.
• I crave bonfire's in the summer.
• I enjoy cooking.
• I hate cleaning up by myself.
• Laundry is a thorn in my side.
• I love bird watching.
• I love science in general.
• I could lay in a park and stare at the clouds for hours.
• I talk quite a bit, but look forward to moments of silence.
• I could use to lose 50 lbs.
• I have never succesfully lost weight.
• I'm addicted to regular coca-cola.
• I love listening to popular music...be it country or bubble-gum dance beats.
• I love listening to the songs from the musical Rent.
• I will never be a hipster when it comes to music.
• I don't really understand how people enjoy going to watch local bands.
• I am fairly certain that I'm aetheist....and was raised a catholic.
• I don't attend church services, and the thought of doing so gives me a knot in my stomach.
• I love my life most of the time.
• I am happy that I'm a mom most of the time.
• I'm returning to school and equally excited and nervous.
• I want to date for the sole purpose of feeling wanted and attractive.
• I try to hide my jealousy when a friend of mine starts dating someone new.

Day 2

In actuality, it was session-2...Whatever.

I think I really like talking with someone..but I'm still embarrassed that in order for me to survive single, I've gotta see a therapist to do so (sidebar: whenever I see or hear the word "therapist", I IMMEDIATELY think of the SNL Jeopardy skit with Sean Connery "I'll take the rapist for 500"....good times).

She is really very helpful. I can speak my mind without offending anyone. Freely. Openly. Without judgement. Heck, the woman even praised me today! It was a really good GREAT feeling.

I never would have imagined me seeing a therapist..in fact, I've scoffed at others in secret, probably mostly because I KNEW I should be talking to some sort of professional for a long time, but was too embarrassed to admit it.

And really, it feels a bit empowering to know and feel like I'm making active steps towards becoming a better me.

I'm not saying it's what EVERYONE SHOULD DO RIGHT NOW...What I'm saying is if you have the resources to see a therapist, I'd suggest you check it out. Even if you feel mentally sound, it's amazing how much better you feel when you let EVERYTHING off of your chest.

I survive. I wonder.

I sit at home and think of what I want out of life.

• Happiness, yes.
  
• Health, of course.
  
• Stability and security, please.

The one thing I am desperately craving is companionship. I want a man to share my life with. I want a man next to me. To flirt with me. To touch me. To wake up next to. To laugh with. To sing with. To share life experiences with.

Every day I put a smile on my face. I laugh, I try to focus at work (when I'm not sitting on facebook, I digress).

Every day that I wake up, I am surviving single. It's a lot more difficult than you would imagine, especially because I bear the responsibility of raising a little boy with strong and respectable morals. A baby boy who is just as stubborn and lovable as his mother. An amazing yet challenging being in my life.

I try to turn to my friends for support. Most of them are busy with their own companions, and the rest are busy being young, going to happy hours or night clubs.

Every day I wonder if I when meet my soul mate. My companion. My ying to their yang. I know it will happen. I believe he is out there.

I always wonder if today is the day....

For now, I continue to survive single.....plus one.

The Question.

Go to church or not go to church...that is the question at hand here.


I've had a moral spiritual debate since the moment I became preggo with baby boy (about four years ago). I'm catholic, and had been having unprotected sex...but nobody in church knew, so I wasn't worried! However, the moment a bun is in your oven there's no denying the fact that you were doing the nasty before a ring was on your finger.


I felt too guilty to go to church. I tried to go with BB was only 4 months old, but left in tears...feeling like everyone was judging me because I wasn't wearing a ring. I saw the newly married couples scattered about, and was horribly sad that it wasn't me sitting with a husband. It sucked.


Fast forward 3.5 years. I tried arranging to have BB baptized with my niece while my brother was in town on leave from the Navy. I made some calls to different catholic churches, and once on the phone with a priest, I was met with the same scorn and ridicule that I had felt from the last time I was at church. "Will your husband be present?" to which I replied "I'm not married, nor is my son's father in my life." Silence, then an "Oh..that's not a good thing" said in the most condescending way possible.


I decided not to go through with the baptism...especially because I don't want to force BB to be involved in the same scorn and judgement that I've felt for the past four years.


My internal church debate still lingers. I have spiritual beliefs, but I haven't found a place where I feel safe to express my beliefs. I feel guilty at the thought of going to a church that isn't catholic, yet cannot stand a catholic service.

I've had coworkers suggest coming to their church but I'm hesitant for a couple of reasons:

1. They don't attend a catholic church
2. I'm unsure of their intentions for inviting me
3. What if I don't like their church..will it have negative implications on my professional relationship with them?
4. I'm still struggling with guilt all around

What are your thoughts? This single mama just doesn't know what to do. I'm fairly certain I know what I believe...I'm just not sure where my beliefs are welcomed without judgement.

I love kissing.

The single life has proved a little mundane for me the past couple of months. I was adamant on not dating for all of 2009. Then, I was invited to a local radio station in early February as part of an Extreme Love Makeover thingie. It entailed me visiting with a psychic. He told me I didn't believe I'd find my soulmate, which was near spot-on.

To change my dubious thought process about finding my soulmate, I decided to toss my dating ban of 2009 to the dogs. I wasn't about to run out and date the next joe-schmo I came across...but I wasn't counting anyone out.

This past weekend I went out on the town with a great friend...and some people she knows. The night was fantastic. I came out of my shell, approached a bunch of guys just to say hi, and ended up having a wonderful make-out session with a sexy man back at my friends place. It was just the confidence boost I needed.

I gave him my number, but I don't think he's going to call...and I'm alright with that. He was fun to kiss, it's as simple as that!

As much as I bitch and moan about how much my parents irritate me, I can't imagine affording sanity through socializing without them. My mom specifically has been my savior once a month, taking baby boy off of my hands so I can have "me-time" to go out to the bars or hang out with friends without worrying about paying a babysitter.

Ms. Clean

I tend to compensate for feeling alone by buying things...lots of things. Before baby boy, I would spend my time spending money, running all over town, and only being at home to sleep (sometimes). I was neglecting simple things like cleaning, or cooking at home. Since baby boy was born, I'm home. all. the. time.

I'm becoming more adjusted to being forced to be at home and be a "responsible adult" (it's been a long and arduous process...trust me). However, one thing I haven't been the best at is cleaning. It's a combination of my mess and baby boy's mess...and it never fails to overwhelm me, specifically laundry. I don't know why I suck at cleaning, it has never been one of my strong suites.

Something clicked around turkey-day this year. Maybe I can attribute it to my lack of family togetherness, I don't really know....like I said, something clicked.

I went on a shopping spree, acquired a new tv, and told myself I couldn't watch it until my house was clean. Although I didn't clean my entire apartment to a sparkling shine, that Friday I sure made an awesome dent.

The past two Friday's I have spent the day at home, cleaning. Although it's not the most entertaining to do on a Friday...it's great to sit in a house that's actually clean and mostly clutter free. Even though I was at home folding socks, switching loads, and separating lights from dark all night long, it feels liberating to have 95% of my laundry clean, and put away.

My clean house makes me smile.

Ring of Fire

Some days, I walk around with an air of pride because I am a mom. In a way, it is a badge that states: "I was good/hot/sexy enough for a man to have sex with me."

Today, I walk around with a burden that is becomes heavier each time it comes around. You see, I don't have the almighty wedding ring, nor am I anywhere near to acquiring one. Mainly because I'm obviously not dating anyone, and really have no potential suitors in my near future.

Why do I think being married is Almighty? Because, I envision my non-existent marriage to be with someone who completes me...who makes me a better person, and who is willing to have sex with me 24-7...no questions asked.

Yes, I skipped out on the marriage before the kid...but that doesn't make me any less qualified to be an amazing wife. If anything, it proves to a man that I'd make a(n) great alright mom. I've willingly accepted the fact that I am no longer the highest thing/person on my priority list 9 times out of 10.

I'm not one of those women who needs to get married NOW...but I'm definitely a girl who day dreams about the day mr. right walks into her life...and also of a day where I can say goodbye to mr. right-now.

I look at men and women who wear wedding rings and envy them. They've found the person who completes them (at least, that's what I tell myself). Their lives may not be picturesque, but it's a pretty intense thing to verbally, emotionally and even sometimes spiritually commit yourself to another being....to me, it's powerful and something I strive for.

My heart hopes it happens sooner than later...because all of these lonely nights after baby boy is in bed are sure starting to pay their toll on me.