Do You Know This Woman?
A Post Xmas Victim Moment. Fuck It. I’m Entitled.
If you remember the TV Series The Love Boat, you remember Julie McCoy… the Social Director of the famous Cruise Ship that took off right after the Donny and Marie Osmond show and right before Fantasy Island and Toto going “da Plane! da Plane”! On Friday nights. If you don’t- just think of your go-to friend who organizes all the parties and is your planner for all things friends and fun and gatherings.
That was me.
And as parents of infants/babies/young kids my husband and I had ALL the cool parties with all the bottomless tequila flowing. Never a pot luck. We would host all of it. 50–100 adults and kids was the norm.
Fast forward 7 years.
That stuff is non-existent now. Post a healthy Co-Parenting xmas (booze free bitches I might add😳💪👍🏻🙏… hollar!!!), I’m fucking tired! I want a breath. I want stillness. I want yoga. I want to feel motivated to do yoga. I want to write down my to-do list and do it. Or check in with my boss so he knows I sill exist. Instead my week is a freaking daycare revolving door of pre-teens and teens this winter break. I bring this on myself- the more the merrier has been my attitude. Ready for the kids to get back to routine though and I wonder and ponder this week- where are all the freakin adults in my life?
There is no question couples do not know how to handle divorce. Neighbors back away. Close friends retreat. Judging is high and assumptions higher and gossip reigns. Add a travel career and several years of running away and I land here. Lots of “let’s get together soon” without actually seeing each other.
Is my best friend fucking Instagram? Do single moms have the plague like the boy in Wonder (omg great movie BTW cried the whole time)? I’m strong AF, vulnerable AF (did you know that being vulnerable is the deepest way to demonstrate strength? A fierce woman once said…), and I hope an inspiration for speaking my truth… well MOST of it anyway.
And so, tonight, here is “my wedge”. My view. What’s in front of me for the next 90 minutes. My seat, my couch. Just me. The whole fucking couch. Julie McCoy still I guess, for my kids and their friends while their parents enjoy time off while I pay for and watch their kids jump, and bring them to movies, and terrorize my house, and eat me out of house and home.
I hope they are fucking! Seriously. I hope the parents of my kids friends are fucking when I am hosting them. If I’m lucky maybe I can lock my bedroom door and steal a hott second with my bullet hoping no one yells MOM for two minutes. Maybe once this week if I feel like it and can steal a second. Maybe.
And so, tonight, I vent.
I’m blessed. I can afford to do this. I can afford to pretend I’m working from home when really I’m just trying to survive. I have shelter. I have food. I have a Latino Lover. I have Soul Sisters. I have a Co-Parent. I have vacations and the occasional nap.
I’m off cocaine, xanax, molly, sleeping pills, barely drink anymore, I’m quickly rewriting the script with my Trumpression induced insidious sugar habit, and even this year I stopped fucking antidepressants, and oh how I’m grappling and dealing with the remaining shit which wouldn’t even be an issue if I lived in Costa Rica and wrote poetry all day and didn’t have to deal with managing parenting and a 25 year career travel job managing a billion dollar territory. I will do this. 2018 baby! I AM doing this.
Wait… was that venting? Goddammit! I can’t even bitch and moan very well because I do like to live on the positive side of things and fiercely count my blessings and blah, blah, blah. Oh, and I’d feeling the dreaded “G” Word if I complain too much (Guilty) or play the world’s tiniest violin.
Fuck it.
I’m going to go engage with these kids and jump this all fucking away right now then perhaps write some www.myerotica.com fantasy for Rose MyErotica about some hot dad fucking me in the dirty bathroom at this place or something. This or check work email? hmmmm
What I really would love though — is to have other moms sitting on this couch with me too who get it. Yes, I fiercely manifest this. Dear Universe- please bring me a Julie.
— Sometimes, life is weightless💃
Written for single moms everywhere.
