Have you ever thought about your childhood and the small, little, insignificant things you remember? I remember Halloweens somewhat vividly, though my mother abhorred the holiday. I remember that, because of my black hair and olive complexion, I was slated to be a witch for all eternity (which has turned out to be somewhat poetic). I remember my dad's best friend coming to our house with his children, taking one look at me, and singing the "Elvira" song... Destined to be the lady of the night. And I guess at the time, I didn't care. I was in costume! I had a hat and a broom! My candy-seeking night was made!
But watching my daughters prepare for a fun-filled school night, it took me back to that time. I can remember my older brother and I dressing up and my mom and dad carting us around the neighborhood. It was especially exciting because my older brother has a disability of which I am sad to say, I took advantage on this particular holiday. As I began spraying and teasing my daughter's hair, I remembered that faint smell of Aquanet my mother used. I remember the tears as she pulled my hair. I applied the face paint to my youngest's cheek, taking special care not to make the slightest mistake. All these things I did with my daughters yesterday reminded me of how much I loved this time with my mother as a child. And click after click of my camera, taking as many pictures as possible commemorating this time, I heard my daughter say (as if it were coming out of my own mouth 25 years ago), "Mom, come on! We're running out of time!"
In past years, my daughters spent Halloween with their father out of state. I scheduled this time for them with him, I won't lie, for selfish reasons. As a single mother, sometimes, you need time alone. Last year for instance, Halloween fell on the perfect weekend. I had just lost a ton of weight, felt quite beautiful, and decided to dress up and party with friends. I was a saloon girl! And honestly, I was HOT! I drove the girls to the meeting spot, dropped them off, and rushed back like a bat out of hell to get to the party. Oh goodness, and that's exactly what we did! It felt so good to be seen. The next morning, I stayed at my brother's apartment and did a little dog-sitting. I recall this perfectly, because I was supposed to have a first date with my now fiance, but he cancelled (and no, he'll never live that down).
Being a single mother is the toughest "job" (though I hate calling it that) anyone could ever have. Hands down. It's a constant battle of how do I get the girls to their events, plus work, plus eat, plus pay bills, plus be a friend to others, plus take care of myself, plus dress them for Halloween, plus plus plus. So if feeling a sense of relief and calm by sending them to their dad's house makes me a bad mother, I guess I'll have to be labeled as such.
This year's Halloween was splendid though. The girls spent their holiday with me! My youngest was an evil fairy...which is ridiculous all together because that sweet little girl couldn't act evil if I were paying her. She was precious. My oldest looked more grown up than I had ever seen her. She was a bumblebee. And the picture I took of her looked as if I had stolen it from a current issue of Seventeen Magazine. And as I watched them walk down the hill away from our house, something occurred to me. I felt completely alone. This feeling that things were changing consumed me. I found myself between trick-or-treaters obsessing over old photos and previous facebook albums. I realized that my oldest will be starting high school next year, and I will be included in less and less conversations, fewer and fewer decisions. How did I do it? How did I let all this time go by? What kind of a terrible mother am I to let all this time pass me by? My fiance and I are discussing whether or not we want to have a baby and the feeling of time passing even more quickly is scaring me to death. It makes me want to savor every breath I have with my daughters, with my family, with my friends. And if we do decide to have a baby, I want to make sure I'm taking advantage of every moment.
And with that feeling came this sense of anxiety. It was like running into a wall....The infamous parenting question. Am I screwing up? Am I making the right choice? Talk about stress!
My grandfather recently passed away. And in attending his funeral, I began to reminisce with my cousins about the life and legacy he left. He was an amazing man, who had an amazing family.
And with all those memories stirred up, I remembered so many little small moments and glimmers of time that passed between us. I thought to myself, how will I be remembered? Will my daughters sit back one day as they write their blog and think about when I would tease their hair for Halloween, or when we cooked in the kitchen (dreaming of being a part of the Food Network). Will they think back upon the life they had with me and say what I know I will say about my mother? God, I hope so.
Crushed or Cubed Question of the day... How will I be remembered? Will my family remember me as crushed or cubed? Did I always fit into a mold? Or did I break it?
We'll see!
C or C
