My son's home(s)

I am always interested to hear -- or overhear -- how Lil E talks about where he lives. There's a lot behind an address, more behind the explanation from a kid who has only a few memories of when his dad and he and I all lived together. 

He used to say he had three homes -- with me, with his father and with my parents, where we lived for seven months and where he often spends Sunday afternoons or the night when he needs time alone with his grandma and grandpa. Even though he is comfortable and happy at his dad's place, he always calls it just that -- "Daddy's house." It has bins of toys and he hauls Nerf guns and Legos and light sabers in an overstuffed backpack from there to here -- "our home." It's not something I've pushed or ever corrected. It's just how he talks about the places where his bed and books and each parent is.

Perhaps he flips the language when he is with his father. I don't know. He may very well refer to "Mommy's house" around him and call their apartment a few minutes away "their home" on alternate weekends and Wednesday nights. 

Whatever he says, I hope it feels like the Star Wars fitted sheet that somehow stays snug even during fitful nights and wrestling matches and meltdowns and pillow fights and quiet afternoons stretched out with a chapter book. I hope it feels right and cozy and good to call it whatever he does or will or has.

I thought of this all a few weeks ago during parent-teacher conferences. I sat on a tiny chair outside my son's first-grade classroom reading pages from his portfolio. His notes from an inquiry project on the planets, reactions to poems the class memorized, stories, and a self-assessment about how he felt about school were all bound in a notebook charting Lil E's progress over this part of the school year. There was also this, the last page of a story he chose for one of the publishing parties his class puts on. 

Here he is, I thought, as I read the two lines over and over. Here's where he is right now.

How does your child talk about the home or homes where they live? 

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Who I am as a mother: Not just PRITTY. Also, ASSOM

We joke about how pretty and young I am. It's something silly between Lil E and me. He's developed enough sarcasm in his seven+ years to know there's more to being a mother than hot pink lipstick and clicky heels. But he's lived with me long enough to know those things are a part of the mama-equation. At least for the mama he has. 

We talk about things -- politics, autopsies, our governor going to prison for extortion, war, bullies in school, how body parts work, why some jokes are hilarious and others are hurtful, how to add change quickly and figure out the tip on bill. But I go in faith, as every parent before and beside me, that he will remember some bits and pieces of those conversations. I hope hard he won't come back to me in ten or twenty years after a super-session with his therapist and say, "Remember how important it was to you that you were pretty?", wiping out the silliness and smartypants conversations completely from his childhood memory.

And then there's this. Proof in the form of a Mother's Day card and book of poems that tell me, "Of course he gets it." And also, if he doesn't, I have the papers to prove otherwise.

There's "Mom, Mom, POW!", set to the tune of "Boom Boom Pow". There's a host of smiley faces and stars and hearts and thankfulnessand BUETY.

On this Mother's Day, I hear him saying he gets the lipstick part. But the rest is still there, too, calling him, comforting him, reminding him I am...ASSOM.

OK, we have work to do. But today, I am happy and full of all he's told me and shown me and that he's letting down his already-burgeoning tween pride to let me cover his dimpled cheeks in a few hot pink kisses. 

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Single moms on Mother's Day: It's still happening Monday

We put a lot of pressure on Mother's Day, don't we? Even if we don't intend to, even if past experience tells us to relax our expectations, we end up on the couch with a cup of cold coffee and the sounds of "Big Time Rush" blaring on the TV and wish we could blink and be back in bed for a few extra hours, on a massage table, maybe just showered and dressed and out the door with the kids in less than an hour (or two). We wish for a card, a kind gesture, an offer to make it a bigger and better and easier day than the others. And even if we get all of that, we could very well be sitting on the couch with that twice-reheated coffee and wondering where the glitter and balloons and magical feelings are.

But what if they don't have to come on Mother's Day? What if they could arrive on Monday after? What if we let go of the pressure of Mother's Day itself simply by scheduling some time later in the week/month/year to celebrate the way we really want to?

My Mother's Days have mostly been lovely and wonderful and full of enough cuddle time and sweet cards. But I've also found they feel even nice if I take care of myself on the days after Mother's Day. As a single mama, I have a support system that includes my parents and good friends and other single parents. I also have a child who is a great gift-giver and loves a celebration. Mother's Day, though, is about celebrating the mother I am and the place where my son and I are on this journey together. And I take that celebration on myself after the roses go back to regular price and the cards at the grocery store are sold out.

This year, I am cashing in some gift certificates the week after Mother's Day. I am purposefully assigning some time alone to luxuriate in all I am and want to be and have been through as a mother, releasing and renewing. Without the small child around. This is paramount as a single mom, this is what gets me through the five minutes when I just want to run the trash out or have someone else make dinner or not be the disciplinarian or talk on the phone without fourteen interruptions from one kid. I can get through those moments of head-screamy solo-parenting because I know tomorrow or last week or whenever, I am celebrating myself on my own terms. It's a mind game that works wonders for this single mama. 

I've outlined my favorite five ways to take care of myself on Mother's Day/Week/Month/Summer over at The Happiest Mom. Pop over and ssee if any of these strategies work for you, no matter what kind of mom you are. And please, share your tips for making Mother's Day happier and healthier, particularly if you are a single mom who has developed good self-care habits! We are all still learning.

Need more incentive to click over? One of my strategies involves ruffled panties. I promise.

Happy Mother's Day to you all, single, partnered, wishing, wanting, waiting, blissed out, stressed out, figuring it out.xo

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