Single Parenting + Grandparents = Bad?
So, I’ve sort of taken a different route than most post divorce…I didn’t date a bunch (or any) men to have revenge sex. I didn’t fret about being alone for the rest of my life. I didn’t panic that I needed to find the next husband to help me and my two kids.
No.
Instead just sort of shut down. I got up every morning. Took care of the kids. Went to work. Came home. Went to bed. Repeat.
After some time friends and family suggested I get back out there. I would just stare at them. How, I would ask, does a full time working, single mother of two little ones, get back out there exactly?
First. I have zero interest in dating or men.
Second. I have zero time or energy (I’m asleep by 8pm – passed out from exhaustion).
Third. I can’t imagine some man being intrigued by a minivan driving, mother of two, who has piles of laundry stacked up, and possibly some pieces of her kid’s linty blankie in her hair.
Fourth. I can’t imagine bringing some strange man home to meet my kids. I don’t like other people’s kids, why on earth would someone like mine?
Fifth. I can’t imagine taking the few hours I have alone with my kids and opting to spend it out searching for a replacement dad.
Anyway, life and time went on. It’s now almost five. That’s one, two, three, four, five years since I’ve divorced. I remember hearing about people begging for advice because it had been weeks or months since they last had sex. I would sort of shrink in my chair a bit when reading those blogs. Years vs. weeks makes one ponder.
So, the other day my parents and I were having our usual fight. See, they are huge helps to me and my kids since the divorce. They don’t help out financially, but they help out in a much better way….they are there, everyday, for my kids.
They help drive them to school or pick them up. They come over for dinner and help with homework. They wash my kids uniforms (in bleach, which I hate, but what can you do…beggars can’t be choosers, right?). They come to every important kid event, from dances to shows to picnics in School Park. They befriended all the other moms at my kids school and even hang out with some of them socially (odd, yes, but good, I think.) They are great. Everyone tells me so.
But…..
They also open my mail and move my paintings around to their liking. They toss food they don’t recognize or believe in, like hummus or pesto. They are teaching my kids to use phrases like ‘shut the light’. They throw out my toothpaste because they’ve never heard of the Tom’s brand. They come to my house when I’m not here and make subtle changes…just enough to freak a person out. They point out what I’m doing wrong, every single day. When my back is turned, while making dinner, they will alter what I’m making…usually always adding more salt. They believe ice cream is healthy, because it has milk, and give it to my kids daily…..and then sprinkle sugar on top of it!
Basically, they are to copy a famous line….they are the best of times; they are the worst of times.
I am grateful every single day for their help with my kids. And I am insane and angry at them every single day.
It makes for an interesting life.
Flash forward to last week. It’s the usual scene. I’m screaming at my parents because they did something totally annoying again, like had me run around the house for an extra fifteen minutes looking for my toothpaste or adding water to my pasta sauce when I turned my back….
And my father, my father! My father, Mr. modest, says the following to me:
“I get it, you’re stressed. All the other moms at school are stressed too…it was a tough, long summer, and right about now, everyone is cracking.”
I pause.
I say:
“Wait, are you comparing me to the stay at home moms you hang with at the kids’ school park? You’re comparing a two job working, two kid, single mom to married, stay at home moms?”
And then he says:
“Well, it’s that or…..uhhhhm……well……you know Paula, your mother and I are here for you if you ever want to go out for the evening with the opposite sex.”
Melt down pause.
What????????
So my brain goes into overload as I process that my father just 1. Removed his own culpability in what we were discussing and instead turned the focus onto it being my fault somehow….and 2. That he just told me to go out and have sex and all would be better.
Can my life get any more surreal and embarrassing?
