Lean on

My friend is going through a break-up. It’s been devastating for her, magnified x1000 because she also suffers from anxiety and depression. It’s  bad enough feeling severed from something even in the best of circumstances, so yeah..I feel terrible for her.

My last break-up was with my babydaddy, and it was so traumatic that I refused to be in a relationship for 8 years after. I spent a great deal of time in mourning, but eventually became a cheerleader for the single life. As hard as it was to be a single mom, it was easier than the alternative: trusting someone. I soon realized I was the in the minority. Most people prefer being partnered. I didn’t. I understand now that it was probably due to the circumstances that surrounded the end of my relationship (raising a daughter alone, watching her father get married and have a baby with a new woman..etc). I had bad taste in my mouth about relationships for a LONG time. It also didn’t help that I witnessed many of my friends cheating on their girlfriends/boyfriends, and watched my own parents’ marriage dissolve into a baffling series of events (more on that later).

I generally regarded articles like this with a degree of scorn and superiority. The following statement just didn’t apply to me:

Someone with a partner would have a person to lean on during this time.

I mean.. when I was single I’d lean on my friends, and that was enough for me..99% of the time. They gave me enough support, love, acceptance and strength so I could get through my daily life. Sure, I had moments where I’d feel alone, scared, hopeless and miserable. But those moments weren’t unmanageable. I realize now that I was lucky as HELL. For some people, it’s not just about moments that pass.. It’s about EVERY DAY being made up of  thousands of moments of pain and sadness.

Now that I’m coupled, I understand the luxury of having someone to lean on. My friends were amazing, but they didn’t offer the 24/7 access to comfort the way my boyfriend does. When I’m scared in the middle of the night,  he’s there. He also makes it easier to deal with many things, like mentally checking in when he sees me going down a Cortisol-induced spiral. It’s incredible having someone to put a dampener on your inner voice, the one that tells you “OMG THIS IS THE END OF THE WORLD!!!”. When you’re single, you don’t have that. It’s just you on the front lines of your own mind.

But life’s not a suffering competition . Nobody’s pain is more or less valid than someone else’s. We all have feelings, and we shouldn’t try to legitimatize of someone’s pain based on what we think they’ve been through. Unfortunately, I did a lot of comparing when I was single. It was my coping mechanism. It helped me get through the struggles and sadness I felt.

Confession: It gave me comfort knowing another person might have failed, or fallen apart when I succeeded. It was a selfish, prideful, self-promoting feeling, but I indulged in it, because I was alone. Because my friends were coupled, and I didn’t have someone to learn on.

Well guess what? I’m not a rock, not a f***ing superhuman, and I’ve failed just as many times as I’ve succeeded. Being in a relationship forced me to confront my false perceptions and vulnerabilities. Being single let me build a bubble around them. My bubble needed to be popped..

But more on that later..


Green Chile

Ahhhh the therapeutic ritual of prepping chile:
Peeling off the blackened, fire roasted layer of skin. Stripping the seeds off the slimy vegetable flesh; reminds me of octopus tentacles. Pulling out the pulpy green innards… Straight up GUTTING, Yo.

Guess what? Yes, I know, I actually blogged, but more importantly….. It’s that time of year again in the southwest!


I could feel the slow Capsaicin burn creeping up my fingers, making me smile at the pain that would linger on my skin for hours. This is gonna be a hot batch, I thought to myself with glee. Funny how a plant probably developed this chemical in order to keep humans AWAY from it, and yet we “put that sh*t on everything.”

slimy green chile tentacles

Ahhhh the therapeutic ritual of prepping chile:

Peeling off the blackened, fire roasted layer of skin.

Stripping the seeds off the slimy vegetable flesh; reminds me of octopus tentacles.

Pulling out the pulpy green innards…

Straight up GUTTING, Yo.

I LoOOVEEEEEEEEE chile season. ❤

Let Down

Ok so I’ve been in a funk. I’m low. I’m trying to sort it out. Obviously I’m not in love with Young Buck. Our relationship consisted of 1 kiss, 4 weeks of texting, 1 phone call,  3 orgasms and some missing clothing. I didn’t want anything more than that. 

But now my phone is quiet. The 1000+ messages exchanged between us have come to a screeching halt. I’m loath to admit it, but I miss it. The control is out of my hands now. I had something exciting and physical, and it was prematurely confiscated.  The 2-year-old in me is throwing a tantrum about her candy being taken away.

Maybe I was trying to play God, and it never occurred to me that there was another person who had a life of their own. He wasn’t just there to be my sex slave.

Continue reading “Let Down”



  • Went to happy hour and ate Carribean Jerk pizza with kiddo and grandma after work Friday.
  • Met up with friends for a microbrew benefit later that night.
  • Lost shirt at Young Buck’s Friday night (yeah, I was that girl).
  • Made Sangria Saturday morning.
  • Finally removed studded snow tires Saturday afternoon.
  • Got sunburned (damn Colorado).
  • Went to a birthday party, fell into a ditch, skinned knees and elbows Saturday night.
  • Fell asleep in front of a bonfire in wee hours of Sunday morning.
  • Woke up to frost on my sleeping bag (damn Colorado).
  • Couldn’t escape hippie nature and discovered shoes were missing Sunday morning.
  • De-funkified self on Sunday afternoon.
  • Made more Sangria.
  • Sat on porch gossiping with the girls until 7:30 pm. Vowed to go to bed by 9 pm. 
  • Watched slutty Dane Cook’s Isolated Incident on Comedy Central till midnight while texting Young Buck.
  • Realized I didn’t spend one night in my house all weekend.

So apparently having a 21-year-old FWB, makes me revert to 21-year-old behavior. Now I’m sitting in my cubicle, band-aids on my elbows, sunburn on my back, daughter in daycare. I feel like I was a werewolf for 48 hours, and now I’m back to my normal life.

Only with a dirty little secret.

The Phone

Young Buck finally cajoled me into calling him. I was getting pretty frustrated with my POS keyboard, and I’m afraid I’m going to get a $200 phone bill next month from over-texting, so I broke down and talked to him in person.

Ironing out the details of a FWB relationship is a little uh…awkward.  I guess I never thought about having a FWB in the first place, so it never occurred to me that I would need to lay the ground rules. Amazingly, I think we’re finally on the same page. We did have a little debate about us possibly having a future and me insisting that wasn’t going to happen, and if he had any of those thoughts, then we couldn’t do this.

So, yeah. Its official. I have a boy toy. A hook-up. A boy on the side. We’ve agreed to be each other’s booty call but we can still take out other people on dates and otherwise live our respective lives. However, as soon as we want to get physical with another person, the deal ends.

Sounds reasonable enough to me. How about you? Should I add anymore rules?

P.S. My dad only uses the Internet every alternate Wednesday, but God I hope he doesn’t stumble upon this post. My sister doesn’t care to read my blog. My mom started for a while and then stopped, due to the stress it caused her.

Though I can’t say I’m not looking forward to this. I think I deserve it.

Headstart, Roofie, Mother’s Day, Full Moon

The Policy Committee was predictably depressing. I am so ashamed of my peers. Fellow moms who didn’t seem to give a rats ass about anything except making motions to accept everything that was presented to them. Maybe they get a thrill about having some power. Maybe they like the free food. Maybe they just like sucking up to the Executive Director.

I was the only one who refused to accept the AWOL policy for the 09-10 year. I said it needed to be revised completely, adding in some type of 3-strike rule, or employee performance evaluation instead of immediate termination. I also suggested that AWOL employees be eligible for rehire.

I can’t talk about specifics more than that due to confidentiality, but lets just say that my fellow parents looked at me like I was some kind of alien that had invaded their planet. Like someone called Five-O on their party. How dare I show up at the last meeting of the year and piss in the calm waters of their monochromatic pool.

I’m the only person who thinks we shouldn’t treat our childrens’ caretakers like fast food employees. To make things even worse, the Executive Director announced that she would probably lose her voice at some point during the meeting since she’s been under so much stress, her throat has started to close up. Yay. My emails have caused a physical reaction in the poor woman.

So I’m not going back. I’m making a budget and if I can afford it, I’m taking my daughter out of Headstart at the end of the summer.

LB, some friends and I went to have dinner at the restaurant Spot works at, and had a wonderful time. He got a great job as the lead preschool teacher at the fledgling Montessori school. He said its the exact opposite of Headstart and he loves it. I told him to let me know if they had an opening, but the fact is people get their kids on that waiting list while they’re still En Utero.

In Roofie news, since he bailed on his weekend, his mother asked if LB could spend the nigh. I dropped her off Saturday afternoon. To my surprise, Blondie was there dropping off her kids as well. After completely ignoring my presence, she rattled off about her family issues and how she needed Rooferman’s mom to watch her two daughters. Grandma R, being a saint, would never say no to anyone, and welcomed the two Blondie Jrs into her home.

After Blondie left, I asked Grandma if she would be ok with 3 screaming girls running around all day. I shouldn’t have even asked. OF COURSE she would be fine.

At that point, Blondie Jr came running up to me and said:

“I’m not supposed to talk to you, but my mommy says you’re mean to LB.”

Grandma R’s jaw dropped. She started stammering. I got down on my knees and looked at Blondie Jr.

“You know Honey, all mommies are different. Your mommy may have a different idea about what is mean and what is nice. Its ok if she’s angry or if we don’t agree on everything. I just hope that one day we can all be friends and everyone can be happy.”

She seemed satisfied with that, but Grandma R was visibly upset. The next morning when she dropped LB off she started crying.

“I’m so sorry that happened. I should have defended you. I should have made Blondie acknowledge your presence. I shouldn’t have let her disrespect you like that.”

I tried to comfort her and tell her it wasn’t her fault, and that these things were going to happen. I told her I wasn’t even upset when that happened. In fact, I was glad that the truth was revealed in front of Grandma R. Now she knows that Blondie is telling her kids lies about me. 6 months ago, this would have reduced me to tears. I’m amazed at how far I’ve come.

My mother daughter chose a very cute Mother’s Day card depicting Snow White hugging Grumpy the dwarf. Inside it said, “Thank you for always loving me, even when I’m grumpy.”

Later that day, LB and I went on a walk around our new neighborhood and checked out all the houses for sale. Way out of our price range, but had a great time anyway. We passed lots of moms enjoying the Colorado sun with their kids, playing on their front lawns. I got two Happy Mother’s Day greetings and I paid them forward to the next mom I saw.

Hope you all had a great Mother’s Day. For you single moms, I hope your Ex’s girlfriend’s kids didn’t call you a mean mommy. For you married moms, I hope never have to deal with that situation.

P.S. I resisted the Full Moon in Scorpio temptation to call Young Buck for meaningless, yet most likely, hot sex. Are you proud of me, or should I have gone for it? I don’t trust myself with the Scorpio moon, its too easy for me to get in trouble.

Broken system

At about 3:30 yesterday, Daycare called and said LB had a rash. They told me I need to take her to the doctor and get a note saying its not contagious before she can return. By the time I got there, the rash had all but cleared up.


  1. We live in southwest Colorado, its dry.
  2. The backyard of the daycare is all dirt. No grass.
  3. The kids roll around in the dirt all day long.
  4. There is no shade in the backyard, thus making it VERY hot in the midday sun.
  5. My daughter still has random potty accidents which can trigger rashes.
  6. My daughter probably has very sensitive skin, and after a long with all these conditions will usually have dry, red skin.
  7. I put lotion on her every night after bath time. Maybe I need a better lotion than Johnson & Johnson

After explaining all of this to the head teacher, and asking if a doctor’s note was really necessary,  they gave me this infamous answer:

“Sorry, that’s our policy.”

I almost lost it. I wanted to scream. If someone tells me those words ONE MORE TIME….

I called LB’s doctor. Got the answering service. Drove by as soon as they opened up this morning and explained the situation and asked for a piece of scrap paper with the doctor’s signature. They told me they couldn’t sign anything without looking at my kid and the next available appointment was at 11 am.

I called Headstart in a fury and asked to talk to the Head Nurse. They gave me her voice mail. I left a seething message, telling them I was standing outside my doctor’s office, I had nowhere to leave my perfectly healthy child and I was missing work all because of their damn policy.

Based on my previous experience with Headstart, I didn’t expect to get anywhere, so I called my job, explained I wouldn’t be in until after 11, and took my daughter out to breakfast. As soon as we got our order, they called back. They asked me if LB was feeling better and if she still had a rash and I said the rash was gone by the time I picked her up yesterday. Then they said it would be ok for me to bring her back, so I left my un-eaten food and dragged my daughter out of white trash Denny’s screaming for her whipped cream pancakes.

I know I should have let her finish. I know I should have taken this opportunity to have a nice breakfast with my kiddo, but I was too pissed to enjoy it. I was 2 hours late to work, and that meant I would have to use 2 more hours of my vacation time to cover my docked pay. At this rate, I’m never going to get enough time saved up for a vacation.

It doesn’t help that my friend is in Hawaii right now, and everyone I know seems to be taking vacations, or driving Ford Fiestas, or getting engaged, or blah blah blah… rant rant rant. I love all these other single moms, and I know I’m feeling sorry for myself, but fuck it.

I have to go to the policy committee tonight, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep my cool. Its the last place I want to be right now. I don’t even want to deal with Headstart anymore. I want to withdraw LB, honestly. I may after tonight. I’m sick of dealing with their crap.

So sad that an organization who’s goal is to help parents and expand the education of young children is so caught up in policy and covering their asses, is shooting themselves in the foot. I like Headstart, I think their mission statement is extremely admirable. But like so many other public service programs, its a broken system.

P.S. Roofie called me last night and informed me that he had to cancel his weekend due to the fact that he no longer has a license and needs to work. I guess the judge wasn’t lenient with him on his child support default.

My chipper response: “Well thanks for calling and letting me know. Talk to you later.”