Oh Say Can You Say?

It starts off as silly, sweet little things like:

“The sun is sick. It has a cold. That’s why it rains.”
[Super fitting considering whose mouth it came out of…. And EEWWW!]

Then they get a little older and on the way out the door, they mimic:

“Let’s bounce.”
[Little ‘twang’ on the “-ounce” included.]

At 10, it’s the fourth time you tell then to do the dishes when:

“I know, I will. Whatever.”
[And you’re sure you caught a bit of a head roll.]

At 10!?!?!
Wait, did I go wrong? This shouldn’t happen. Surely not so early! At 10 I believe my dad would have catapulted me into sometime the next year.

Speaking of my dad, I think he’s grown soft in his old age. On one visit my 13-year-old sister said “crap” … right next to my father! It didn’t faze him. I’ve made that little mistake, but mine was only:

“That sucks!”
[Which landed me in the next month.]

I happen to like Snotface, and would like to keep her, so rather than toss her into some unknown time frame, I decided to explain it to her. Its not wash-your-mouth-with-soap status.

We had an hour long discussion on how ‘whatever’ could be a bad word.

“Mommie, whatever.”
Ggrrrr.
“At school I can say it. It's not a bad word.”
“Okay,” I reasoned. “If you said you were hurt or hungry and I said “whatever”, how would you feel?”

I’m pretty sure she gets it now.


personality traits

Committed to What?.... Grrr.

This year I signed Snot-face up at The Boys and Girls Club. I didn’t before because 1) I couldn’t’ afford it and 2) it doesn’t really suit my needs. I do school all day, a half-hour from where I live, and then straight to work, another ten minutes from school. B&G closes at six; I get off work at earliest, 7:30. With San Francisco here now, it’s possible.

I’m already obligated to $34 a week, that’s for two days and even if she doesn’t go. That’s the contract, fine. But… over this break, I was told that if she comes in I have to pay an extra $11… each day. That’s a load of bologna! Why are they allowed to do that? I get that it’s a longer day when they are out of school, but I was out of school too, so she didn’t go until three.

I’m in such a funk that I don’t want Snot-face to go anymore, except that I stand by stability, even with activities. But gee-wiz! It’s bad enough that our needs aren’t served, but paying for them not to be is ridiculous.

Somehow I don’t think Denzel Washington wanted to endorse a program that would rip-off the poor single moms of America. If I recall, his commercials said between 3 p.m. and 8 p.m. and were geared toward the working poor. We don’t necessarily work 9-to-5s.
I feel stuck in this system built for a white-picket-fence-cookie-cutter world and my little family is just too messy.

2009 Childcare statistics in California

Wild Things

I know I’m a bit on the late freight with this movie, (I wait for them to show up at the three dollar theater, because I’m broke) but Where the Wild Things Are was fantastic. It was part child's fantasy, part sentimental deepness and part furry’s wet dream.

The movie is an embellishment on the classic children’s book, which was short, sweet and effective. The film gives more depth with a back story to Max’s tantrum and then personifies his emotions as giant monsters that live in the forest of his mind. Contentment, anger, insecurity are all there and more.

I found myself looking over at Snot Face because it seemed I understood her just a little more. I forget sometimes that she is a little person and it is possible for her to have angst.

When she gets upset I either coddle her or freak out, depending on the situation. I realize that while I have to be sensitive to her, more than anything she has to learn how to work though some of this stuff on her own.

How Jonze pulled off making a six page book into a masterful peek at my daughter’s little soul, I will never know, but I thank him.

I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus

I never understood the significance of that song until recently. I used to laugh at the thought of Santa being unfaithful to poor old Mrs. Claus.

“HoHoHo, honey, I’m sorry but I’m running a little late.”

Only it’s not about the secret life of Santa, it’s about the parents getting caught. Mommy wasn’t kissing Santa, mommy was kissing daddy dressed as Santa.

When do we get to tell our kids there is no Santa? As parents are we even allowed to?

I found out when I was seven. I slept on the couch so I could catch Santa. I heard the rustling of presents and tree branches, opened one eye, and there was my mom, unsuccessfully sneaking our gifts under the tree. Her cover was blown, but I never said anything for the sake of my little sister...and the presents.

I feel like that was an organic discovery. That’s not the same as having your parents crush your little fantasies of St. Nick. But which is worse, Santa not giving you what you want for Christmas or knowing that your mom is Santa and she can’t get you what you want? But being Santa is hard.

So, Snot-face is now ten and still believes in Santa. Her Christmas list this year is impossible. She is asking for parts to make a working robot. WTF!!!!

I want to let myself off the hook... I wonder how San Francisco feels about putting on a big red suit?

How Did I Become the Go-To Mom?

As I stepped out the bathroom, Snot-face came running up stairs asking me if I know how to get New Moon tickets.


“At the movie theater,” I said awkwardly, “it’s not a concert, you just go…”


“But they’re sold out,” she cut me off, “and Sierra really wants to go!”


First of all, what am I, a pre-adolescent’s version of a drug dealer? Snot-face will ask me for the most random of things for her friends; hey, do you know to get the new Black Eyed Peas song for free, Hanna wants it….Can we get a whole pie so I can take it to school to share with my friends…. Can we get one for Kacie, her mom won’t take her to get one?


Next, I can barely keep up with my own kid’s needs and wants, let alone those of her whole posse. I’m broke. I’m busy. Today, I’m sick and have tons of homework.


Last, I’m not even cool, I always say no. And I don’t condone this fascination with fake vampires. It’s the stupidest thing. Vampires don’t sparkle in the sunlight. They burst into flames.


I ended the conversation.


“Honey,” I said, “it will be in theaters for a long time, it won’t always be sold out. Plus, it’s not my job to get Sierra tickets. Her mom needs to do that for her.”


San Francisco snickered from the bedroom.


“Okay, Mommie.”


I know, I’m mean, but I had to nip this in the bud.

I Think I've Seen One of Those on T.V.

Yesterday was yet another god-I'm-getting-old moment. San Francisco returned home from helping his mother move with a real treasure- a 1970's vintage record player, the kind with cabinet doors, an analog tuner and an 8-track. It's beautiful.

Snot-face stood staring at it for a minute.

"What's that?" she finally asked.

"It's a record player," San Francisco told her, but her head cocked to the side like a dog, "You know, it plays records, music."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I think I've seen one of those on T.V. I think they had one on The Cosby Show."

Snot-face has recently developed a love for my childhood favorite. When she saw her idol, Raven Symone, from Disney's That's So Raven, played Cosby's adorable little Olivia, she became fascinated.

"Look at Raven," Snot-face squeaked, "she's so little and cute."

Back to the record player: San Francisco proceeded to teach Snot-face how to use it, so she won't scratch the records. As he gave his lesson, he remembered when he was a kid he wasn't even allowed in the room this player was in. (I guess that's how bad he was.)

It’s the little things that make you realize how much things have changed. My daughter had never seen a record player in real life until yesterday. When Michael Jackson died she discovered his music, like many kids did, as if he were a brand artist. She asked me why she didn’t know about him before he was dead, and was sad that there would be no more from him.

Why didn’t she know about him? Did I not do my duty as a culturally hip mom? Am I depriving my child by keeping treasures like the magic of MJ, the silliness of Bill Cosby and the sweet crackle of vinyl to myself? Am I negligent for being surprised that Snot-face doesn’t know them already? Cause if I haven’t shown her, who else will?

Allow me to introduce myself.

I am a single mother, a truly single mother, not an unmarried/divorced mom. Not to say this makes me any more or less special, but I have truly been doing my thing with my baby girl in tow. No dad in the picture; No child support, no weekends with daddy, no Christmas or birthday money sent, no help from the other side of her gene pool AT ALL.

Again, I'm trying to get all high and mighty, but there is a huge difference between being a single parent, like me, and being a divorced or unmarried parent. Go ahead, cuss me out all you want, but it's true, and now that you've thought about it, you know it is. Albeit, there is a whole other set of issues that comes with dealing with the other parent. Not quite sure which is worse.


My daughter is 10. I gave birth to her two and a half weeks after I turned 20. That makes me 30. And that freaks me out. So four years ago I went back to school. I will graduate in the spring. I've done some interesting things in my life, but it was suddenly oh so crucial to get my ass in gear. No more running around being a flighty and free... It was fun while it lasted.


'What's so special about that,' you might ask right about now, 'tons of single mom's go back to school'... Well, yes, but it's not easy. We live in a society with laws and practices in place that do not fit the unconventional direction we went in. That's to say we live in a white picket fence, cookie-cutter world, and my little family is super messy. No, most families don't look like Leave it to Beaver now, but they at least have mom and dad, even if they don't live in the same house. Juggling the child, school, work and my own sanity in a system built for two parents has never quite worked for me. The journey has been hard, long, but also, it's been fun.


I'm sharing my adventures, my adventures as a MILF. Yes, a MILF. I'm still young, I'm still hot, I'm still learning. I did not give up and just become "mom". There will be flashbacks and current events as this little family sails into another level of life. To protect the innocent I've changed the names: my daughter is Snot-face (don't judge me), my boyfriend (the new edition) is San Francisco. Me, I'm just Mommie.

Some good advice for single parents