The purpose of this blog is for single parents to know they
can make it on their own, no matter what. Trust me when I tell you I’ve gone
against many odds to get where I am today, and in one year I’ll be somewhere
totally different than I am. I will be graduating on my birthday, September 4,
2015, the day after I retouch my roots.
Most people get up each day, go to work, come home, change,
and then relax by having an incredible dinner before bed, whether they eat out
like the majority of the country or cook something delicious. Not our family,
but then we’ve always been walking a little too close to the edge of sanity.
Let me explain some of the differences so that you can understand what makes
our family so incredible.
My daughter is one of a kind in many ways. Sure, she has a
hard time keeping quiet and exposes every single thought that skirts through
her head. While this is taxing to listen to a person always understands where they
stand with her, which is a blessing with an eight-year-old girl, big blue eyes,
and straight long blond hair, with a smile that only pauses when she’s gritting
her teeth and barking.
At the store today, we went to the deli to acquire some
lunch meat and cheese. My daughter pointed at a neatly packaged turkey breast,
“Is that just one breast? If it is, that turkey would have to be huge!” She
always says cute little things aloud that would embarrass anyone. I’ll get to
this later.
My son is twelve and I suspect Asperger’s, haven’t been able
to have it verified, but it’s got its bonuses nevertheless. He’s brilliant, well
behaved, and doesn’t make friends easily, mostly because he has an obscure way
of viewing what’s going on around him. He doesn’t talk much, but his face is
that picture you’ve heard of, the one worth a thousand words. Every once in a
while, only four letters appear, but I’ll let you fill in the blanks on that
one.
And me? I’m what people refer to as a “throw back.” Been
married twice, Terry and Todd. Had two babies, one with Dave and another with
Dan, carrying the load by myself at age 48. Apparently all the mind games I’ve
been playing, to keep my brain strong, are failing me because I sat down with a
calculator to find out I’ve been quoting the wrong birthday for nearly two
years -- I’m turning 48. That’s right, I’ll be 48 for one more year due to a
miscalculation I made a couple of years ago. So, I’ll be graduating at the
wet-behind-the-ear age of 49. How ‘bout that?
The majority of my blogs will be written at the friendly
neighborhood library, where I am relatively free from distractions. Today,
however, I’m here because the woman who lives upstairs makes some sort of
voodoo stew on Sundays that smells like cabbage and poodles brewing. I wish she
would watch the movie Julie and Julia,
2009, I just saw so she can pick up a few tips. Perhaps when we move, I’ll
leave a cookbook on her doorstep as a neighborly thank you.
I’m sure you’re curious as to what a woman nearing the age
of 50 is going to school to be “when she grows up,” but that’s where everything
gets interesting. I’ll share it next time. What is it you’ve always wanted to
do but haven’t? It’s not too late to start?
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