Mistakes I understand. It was my babysitter’s insociencance about work and money, two things that as a single mom drive all my thoughts and actions, that when I discovered I’d been overcharged for last week’s work, it stung in a personal way.
The minute I noted the error I fired off a text to Catherine. I assumed there would be a quick refund with a “no problem.” Nothing of the sort. Instead, I was to suck into explaining basic math to a 20-year-old college student.
The dentist had such a rah-rah attitude about Savannah’s dental problems I thought she was going to break into a cheer. “Go teeth!”
“Her mouth is structured so she only uses the back two teeth when she chews,” Dr. Linder said, jabbing her gloves into Savannah’s mouth to point out how her teeth weren’t aligned.
The daily struggle to transform my 10-year-old from a bundle of raw nerves and bubble gum to a kid who chews with her mouth closed and doesn’t interrupt adult conversation makes me wonder how Jackie Kennedy’s parents managed to raise such a sophisticated woman.
You could present a 10-year-old with the opportunity to see any tourist attraction in the world – Mount Rushmore, Eiffel Tower, Great Wall of China or hang out at the hotel pool – and the hotel pool would win every time.
After a day of repeating “pick up your coat off the floor” and “put your dish in the sink,” I watched my 10-year-old transformed from disorderly deviant to well-mannered super child within seconds of our houseguest arriving. With the charm and personality of a behind-in-the-polls presidential candidate trying to secure votes, Savannah gave the guest an apartment tour that included demonstrations of the shower and thermostat. She even made the weary traveler tea.
“You daughter’s so mature,” the guest gushed the next morning.
I wouldn’t saying throwing your homework in the garbage and later lying about it mature, but okay.
I recently read a blog post where the writer, a single mom like myself, listed the drawbacks of solo parenting. The list included the obvious: lack of sex, money, no one to help with household chores, etc.
While certainly applicable to my life, the list could have been ripped from one of those pointless government studies. If asked what I need and crave most, it would be having somebody to share in making decisions. To me, a luxury item is a warm body I can turn to and utter those simple words: “What do you think, honey?” or better “You decide!”
I was aghast. Right there on York Avenue, on a sidewalk swarming with New York Presbyterian Hospital doctors on break and returning campers, I witnessed my “I’ll friend-anyone who talks to me” 10-year-old ‘dis a little redhead boy.
Posted in Mommyhood
Tagged Abraham Lincoln, camp, Dating, FDR Drive, kids, Love, New York City, New York Presbyterian Hospital, parenting, Single mom, Taylor Swift