Written last night:
I got pissed on tonight.
Literally and figuratively, I suppose.
Holding my naked child I was soaked with urine that traveled from under my breast, down to my pants, into my underwear, and ended in a puddle on the floor that I had to mop with responsible nontoxic cleaner.
This was the first time my 11 month old daughter has pissed on me en route to the bath or “baaaah” as she calls it.
It was like a metaphor for my world right now and I lost it. Completely lost it and sobbed my eyes out. Like, for a long time. Cried so hard I could barely breathe while Willa was splashing away having the time of her life. I never cry in front of her so I’m surprised she wasn’t terrified of this mommy monster making guttural sounds reminiscent of a humpback whale’s mating call.
Kind of dramatic, you say? Yes, kind of, but I think considering the surrounding details of my day/life it’s called for.
Today is May 8, Mother’s Day. My first Mother’s Day. My friends with children are winding down from a groovy day with their hubbies and kiddies right now. Having a yummy din-din, putting the little ones to bed, then watching “their show” together.
I put my little one to bed, poured a glass of wine, (a small one as I’m still breastfeeding,) and I am alone like I am every night. And the day started like it does every day, with Willa crying for me at 5am, me getting her up with no help, and bringing her into my large and lonely California King bed for some snuggles and breakfast which I LOVE because she is perfection to me and I actually miss her when she’s sleeping. I appreciate the break, don’t get me wrong, but I do start to miss the lil squirt. I digress. The only difference about tonight is that my 16 pound baby dispensed a liter of pee-pee on me, and now (after a shower, of course,) I am sitting in front of this computer, spilling my guts, feeling vulnerable, and starting this blog. The only blog I’ve ever attempted. Let’s hope it’s decent…Wink emoji.
Sidenote: I know my problems are small in comparison to some. VERY small. But they’re still my problems.
Back to the story.
Why is my California King bed so lonely, you ask?
When Willa was 6 months old, my husband decided he didn’t want to be married to me anymore. Every time I tell this to someone their next question is ALWAYS, “How long were you together?” I’ll now answer that question because I’m sure it’s what you’re wondering too:
I guess that matters for some reason.
Why did he leave me, you ask?
I’m still not really sure.
Could I not shed the baby weight and that’s why? I didn’t feel sexy and wouldn’t let him touch me?
No, I lost all of my baby weight plus 4 more pounds thanks to the way I took care of myself during pregnancy (prenatal yoga and weight training, I am a personal trainer after all,) and breastfeeding really helped me to melt away those el-bees. He was welcome to touch me all he wanted… He didn’t, but he could’ve if he wanted to.
Hmmm, was I a crazy, neurotic, lunatic, first time mom?
Considering how everyone told me how super mellow and under control I was, that’s probably not it.
Was he cheating?
Probably, but I’ll never know.
It’s stupid to analyze why it happened. I’m not sure, and this story is about me, not him, so I will move on from that topic.
I am a single mom.
Never-never-ever-ever did I think I would be a single mom. Not because I thought anything was wrong with it; my best friend’s mom is a single mom and she’s the bomb dot com. She’s always lived a great life and I’ve never felt sorry for her or anything of that nature. It’s just that my parents have been married for almost half a century! And I LOVE being a wife! Love it! Love taking care of my dude, and everything that comes with being “wifely.” So that being said, it’s been really hard for me. Even though I know he’s not the guy for me (the guy for me will want to be married to me, for starters,) it’s still really effing hard.
It’s hard when new mommy friends in Willa’s classes ask me what my husband does. It’s hard on Sunday mornings. It’s hard to accept the dissolution. Hard when I miss him. It’s just hard period!
Luckily I have a family that’s so wonderful it’s beyond explanation. I’m incredibly close with my parents. They planned a wonderful day for me today and I couldn’t raise my baby without them in general. They love Willa and I so much they would literally drop anything to help us. And they do, often. My sister is one of my best friends and comes over after work every Friday, buys us dinner, and stays the night. It’s one of the highlights of my week. I also have a huge support system, between my dear old friends and my new mommy friends who I’ve quickly become very close with. I suppose going to Mommy and Me class and sharing stories of my crumbling marriage can bring me close to strangers fairly fast. Anyway, my friends and family kick ass. I know I’m hashtag blessed for sure.
HERE IS WHY I AM DOING THIS.
I need to start dating again. I want to fall in love and have a healthy relationship because I know it’s possible for me.
The problem is that I detest dating. I get horribly nervous, filled with dread, fear, and a touch of nausea. Ask my old roommate, Anne. I made her go on a blind date with me. Really, I told the guy she was super depressed and needed to come to dinner with us and she did! That was my last blind date and it was probably 12 years ago.
I feel like if I can come home after a date and report back to my blog it makes it less serious. Like I’m just going out to get a good story to share.
I have a few more weeks left of breastfeeding so I’m trying to decide if I should start the dating process now, or wait till then. It could be awkward leaving a date because I have to pump my boobs. “Thanks for the drink. I’d love to hang more but my boobs will explode.” Or, “Would you like to hang out with me while I pump? My nipples are like 4 inches long while I do it, it’s super crazy.”
In this blog I shall be reporting on my blind dates, joining dating sites, etcetera, etcetera. Should be an interesting experiment.
Thanks for your support!