For the record, this blog is not going to become some Mommy blog (blogs I respect and enjoy reading – when others are writing them). I don’t have a lot of sexy thoughts ready to spill out of me, but I can feel them percolating in the background. I’ll get back to sexy. Just give me a few days.
Parents, in general, have to accept many things. Babies spit up. Small children wake up too damn early. All children will disobey and test you any chance they can. We, as parents, will probably screw up our children in some way, no matter how hard we try not to. In my case, I learned early on to accept that my oldest is my experiment and my youngest is reaping the benefits of his big brother being the one that I practice on first.
There are things, specific to single parenthood (I think) that I accepted a long time ago. Even so, sometimes it’s hard to have to look those things in the eye and reaffirm that I accept them, that I saw this coming, that I knew it would be this way.
I accept that there are some men who do not want to be involved with a single mother. I accept it, and I don’t judge anyone for it. If I was done raising children or had no children, I’d probably be a bit leery, too.
I accept that I will probably raise my children into their teenage years and beyond by myself.
I accept that most men will only want me in a casual way.
I accept that the men who seem to be the most drawn to me are the least likely to feel like raising children again or for the first time.
I accept that I refuse to compromise my children’s well-being in order to make sure I’m not alone at night.
I accept that my job as a mother and the commitment I made to doing the best I can will always come first, before my own career, and certainly before a casual love affair.
I accept that I will be alone more often than not.
I accept that I will keep the two sides of my life separate for a long time.
I don’t say any of this with a defeatist attitude. To me, this is a reality I accepted the moment I separated from their father. I never anticipated the other side of the reality. I never expected their father to abandon them. I never expected to do it completely on my own with only babysitters as back ups.
I used to be scared to do it on my own. I was scared to be alone. I’m not scared anymore. This is life, and I take it as it comes – or at least I try to take it as it comes. I’m a planner and a worrier, I always have been.
I don’t believe in fairy tales and I’m on the fence about miracles. I attract men who are significantly older than me – and I prefer it that way. It simply means they’ve already raised their children and don’t want to raise more. I don’t blame them. That really would be true love.
I accept that spankings, collarings, submission, all of it, are harder as a parent – single or not. Those moments have to be snatched when they can, whenever they can. I accept that I’m climbing an uphill battle just to go on a date, let alone get my ass smacked. I think that’s true for all parents.
I’m not complacent in my life. I’m not depressed. I’m not angry. I’m not defeated. I simply accept my reality as it stands right now.