I was hauling out the garbage one evening when I had a revelation. (Hey, if Archimedes had his eureka moment in the bath, why couldn't I have one dealing with household waste?)
I'd been a single parent for a few years at that point, but I was definitely not humming "Sisters Are Doin' It for Themselves" while I dragged the cans to the curb. For me, it had ceased to sound like a liberating anthem and more like a life sentence. My son was about the size of a garbage bin, so "doing it" for myself meant the lot: not only garbage but also making everything from dentist appointments to Halloween costumes and helping with homework (I could write at length on the Minoans, if anyone's interested), constructing school lunches while asleep, organizing birthday parties ("Get cake mix today"), March break and summer camps and buying clothes and shoes (not, of course, for me).
So that night, surrounded by rubbish, I was feeling burdened with a lot more than the recycling. I was fed up with complicated child-care schedules and the cleaning-shopping-cooking-laundry roundelay. I was tired of making lists and never getting to the end. In sum, "doing it" for myself had become a serious pain.Appreciate what you have
The funny thing was that when I put the boxes down and straightened up, I suddenly felt at peace -- I have no idea why. Random drops of sanity must have finally reached a critical mass in my bruised psyche. Hel-lo brain! I had a smart, healthy child whom I adored. What more could life offer? Moreover, my ex and I truly shared custody -- not, sadly, the national norm. Even though being without my son sometimes felt like I'd had an internal organ ripped out, I knew he was loved and safe with his dad. Sure, I had to deal with kid-related tasks (see above) even when my kid wasn't around, but so what? Every mother I knew conformed to another sad national norm: women still shoulder the bulk of child-care activities.
Meanwhile, I had evenings when I could listen to My Music (bye-bye Raffi; hello Rolling Stones), have a glass of wine while eating tuna out of a can (bye-bye balanced living; hello inner 20-something) and doze through the alarm (bye-bye frantic scramble to fill knapsack; hello tea and newspaper).
There's no question life is easier with a mate, beginning with loving support and ending with money. So my life wasn't ideal, but then, neither are many people's living situations.
Next time I took out the garbage, I stopped to smell the grass. I listened to parents calling for their kids and the laughter of children happy to be out. And, standing there alone, so was I.
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