I slept with my wallet in my pillowcase last night hoping it would deter my daughter’s sticky fingers. But, when I went to retrieve it this morning to pay the dog walker, to my shock and horror, it was empty. A lone receipt laid in the fold created to hold bills. Every last dollar was gone.
Savannah had just left for school and was waiting for the elevator when I made the discovery. I immediately swung open the door and yelled down the hall for her to return.
“Where’s the money?!” I yelled, flashing the flimsy wallet that she had made for me at camp with duct tape. “Where’s the money?”
Posted in Mommyhood, single mom
Tagged ADD, ADHD, kids, New York City, ODD, oppositional definant disorder, parenting, pyschology, Single mom, special needs
After a decade of baby daddy drama, I no longer whitewash the truth when dealing with therapists, school personnel, and doctors. I’m blunt and to the point.
“Hate to make your job more difficult, but you’ll need to schedule two meetings,” I told the school principal. “The father won’t attend if he knows I’ll be there.”
Posted in Mommyhood, single mom
Tagged ADD, ADHD, children, co-parenting, kids, middle school, New York City, parenting, School, Single mom, single parents, special needs
My neighborhood heard me yelling at my daughter and was appalled.
My neighbor’s wife had a baby five months prior and he still has that new parent glow and enamored with everything his child does. He has yet to find unfinished math homework hidden under the bed or discover that his kid runs opposite of the ball in soccer.
I was my neighbor once.
I was reminded of the challenges of raising a tween while shopping yesterday for back-to-school clothes with my 11-year-old. Sounding more like a politician than a 6th grader, her response to an outfit I declared inappropriate was “Am I the only one who cares about my popularity?!”
Later, when I questioned what took her so long in the dressing room, she said she was “dancing in front of the mirrors.” She said this in a tone that implied this was perfectly normal.
Then there were the cartwheels in the Skechers store. Of course.
Two of the girls in Savannah’s cabin at summer camp this year were missing a leg. How or why two people at such a young age could meet such a fate I’ll never know. When I pressed Savannah for an answer, I got the standard “Dunno!”
“I don’t know why she doesn’t leave him!” I heard many of women snap whenever the Anthony Weiner’s sexting scandal came up in conversation.
This “holier than thou” attitude toward Huma Abedin often sprouted from the mouths of women I consider smart, sophisticated go-getters, yet were one time or another involved with questionable characters themselves. I’m talking about women who were with players, hustlers and drunks, or who allowed themselves to be humiliated by their significant other’s behavior because they insisted “we have a great connection.” One would assume these ladies, upon noting the common thread, be oozing with sympathy when it’s the exact opposite. They’re often even more critical of the Huma’s of the world.
As I headed down 14th Street in D.C. to pick-up breakfast at the local Cosi, I was reminded again that in my tiny single parent household there are no traditional roles. By defacto, I am both the hunter and gathered.
It was still early and the DC streets were just starting to wake. There were clusters of homeless men loitering on street corners. “Can you spare some money pretty lady?” Hotel workers consumed cleaning their tiny patch of sidewalk. Young workers with Starbucks cups in hand, who with their J Crew looks, I pegged as working for a lobbyist or a Congressional aide. But, I’m from New York, so I assume everyone in D.C. works on The Hill.
Then came me: the gatherer-turned-hunter. Out early in search of food as my tribe of one waited back at the hotel.