The Dollhouse...

The other night I was helping Pink and Tink clean their room before bedtime. They share a room and, at any given moment, it looks as though the Barbies and Polly Pockets have had a murderous go round. Detached heads and limbs litter the floor. Small children left stranded amidst the shag carpet. Stuffed animals, nooses secured, hang from doorknobs and blinds. In the center of this frightening display of creativity is a large dollhouse. Every small piece of girly goodness they possess has taken up residence in this domain. Being quite cumbersome to lift, it's my job to put it away at the end of the night.

I put down the roof, ease the sides together and snap the front door shut. Bending down to look in the little windows I found myself in flashback mode. There I was, four years ago, bending down to look in the windows of this small abode, debating the purchase. Newly single and Christmas shopping for the first time alone, I knew that I couldn't afford this monstrosity of pink froth. But, I also had my pride and was determined to give my girls a Christmas that was...the same. That showed...nothing had changed. That soothed...my ego.

The title of single mother is an odd one. I've never felt all that comfortable using it. Unlike some who don't choose the role or have it forced upon them by tragedy, my benign story did not allow me to tout the title as some badge of honor. Although sometimes I did....and do. I have had incredible support from family and friends and I've never lacked a damn thing. From money, to love, to a place to crash on the lonely nights...my support system has offered it all. I owe them a debt of gratitude. And, although I have a backbone of loving encouragement...there were still those times...are those times...when I sink to the floor and cry...

As odd as it may sound, bath time is the the hardest. If you're a parent, single or not, surely you can empathize. Exhausted from work and school pickups...dinner and dishes....homework and LEAVE YOUR SISTER ALONE!....how was school, how was daycare, how do you feel, why are you crabby, where are the sign up sheets for gymnastics and carnival day and the pretzel sale and EAT THREE MORE BITES!

By the time the tub is full and bubbles are a floatin', I'm toast. Beat. Done. And that's when I'm most aware that there's no one there to hand me a towel. To pack the lunches while I dry the hair. To go grab that last glass of water or cream for the dry skin or detangler for the knots. If I don't do it, it doesn't get done. Period. Unless Boy is there.

And when he's there I remember what it's like to be part of a team. And we're so good together, we'd make the All Star game if they had that for couples. It works and we tend to our relationship as we tend to the girls. He's the kind of guy that comes up behind you while you're washing dishes, kisses your neck and then hands you the glass of wine he already poured. He is everything I have ever wanted.

...and he's moving in...

...to my dollhouse

to be continued...