The funny side to life as a working single Mum. My stories of embarrassing escapades, toddler tantrums and great expectations.
Thursday, 21 August 2014
Poem: Taking liberties.
I've written this tonight, more as a performance poem/spoken word performance. Here it is anyway.
Taking liberties.
I want you to know that what you did was all worth it, what you said turned to concrete,
While I'm breaking, see me spit.
The movements I'm making, liberties that I'm taking, with a lexicon forming from the back of my throat.
If lust was our calling, we were more than appalling. From our insides to out, we're always pushing and peeling.
With a caustic container, always tried to contain ya. Number fifteen performer at the end of your year.
If love is the reason, darlin, you commit treason. Every day of your life, you're always spilling the poison.
In beauty we trust, obviously hope is a must. For every self respecting poet who is covered in rust.
You see, you can't believe in fate if you are gonna survive. You know you can't believe in God if you are gonna make my brain cry.
Cos everybody knows that reason is the way you can thrive, as Liza said "everybody loves a winner" so you'd better abide.
Remember, life is a cabaret, old chum and you are the only clown. You see the tears you cry are phony, it's time for you to get down.
If love is the reason, darling, your drug is pleasing. Everyday of your life, you're building my poison.
Wednesday, 20 August 2014
The truth of it.
A whole year has passed since my family changed and I've not really shared my experience as a single Mum so far.
It's hard. Really hard. Almost impossible to define.
On a practical level, it can be exhausting, especially balancing a challenging full time career with a demanding toddler. Lack of sleep and being expected to be on top form are tiring. More tiring than I could have imagined.
On a financial level, it's stretching, worrying and unfair, quite simply.
The practical and financial challenges are easier to deal with, however, than the emotional and social tests. The children's birthday parties, with happy Mums and Dads, so proud of their child are hard. No one is supposed to say that, of course, and generally we (single Mums) only say so to each other. While I am happy spending my life as a pair, it still doesn't stop the agony of watching the Daddy fetch the drinks, sing his child happy birthday or kiss his partner in a moment of thanks for the family they have built.
Now, whenever I say this, kind friends reply by saying that these couples are probably miserable anyway. This isn't the point though; I don't wish misery on anyone. I truly hope they are happy but it still causes temporary blindness and the heaviest, yet emptiest hole imaginable.
Then, come the sympathetic glances, questions of how I manage and overly caring gestures. I am not ungrateful, as this comes from a good place, but I can't help but feel a little abnormal.
Everyone around me has either found their happy ending or is just embarking upon it.
I am not asking for sympathy and I am not asking for praise. This is just the truth of it.
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