Life as a SINGLE MOM: Another Day in the Life

Rock, smooth, fun, unique, emotional, groovy, woman’s ecoustics

My blood pressure began to rise. 
“Excuse me. What did you say? Don’t give me that cheek. I really appreciate all that you do, but I don’t deserve this kind of treatment from you.” I said sharply. 
Noah’s lips tightened, but he stayed silent. 
I tried to change the subject. “Where’s Jacob?” 
“I put him to bed at seven because he got into the mayonnaise and sour cream again. He was fisting it into his mouth like a barbarian.” 
“Did you feed him anything?” I asked.
“Well, I gave him crackers and juice. Does that count?” Noah said sarcastically. I was really starting to get annoyed. 
“He probably got into the fridge while you were watching TV, didn’t he?” 
Noah glared at me. 
“Well, I guess you got what you deserved for not watching him properly.” 
“No, I didn’t because I left it for you to clean up. Good luck!” And with that he pushed past me with his shoulder and stormed down the stairs. 
I followed him, and my heart pounded in my ears. 
“What the Hell Noah! What’s wrong with you?” 
His fists were clenched, and he had his back to me. 
I grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him around, but he was too strong for me, so I went in front of him. 
“I said, what is wrong with you?”
Noah’s eyes were wet, and his shoulders trembled. Immediately my frustration dissipated and turned into concern. “Noah, what’s wrong?” I said more gently this time.
“It's YOU!” he sobbed through angry tears. 
“It’s because of YOU that we’re not a family anymore; it is because of YOU that we’re going to move and leave all my friends; it’s because of YOU that you’re never home! I AM TIRED OF IT!” 
This is what my son thought of me? 
“Noah, it’s not as easy as that.” 
“What do you mean it’s not as easy as that? It is easy. Figure your shit out so that we can be a family again! I don’t want to leave my friends. I love this village. It doesn’t have to be this way!” He shouted through thick sobs. 
I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around him to comfort him, but I knew that he would not let me. 
“Noah,” I said more calmly this time. “Being an adult is complicated. Being married is complicated. These are adult problems that adults need to deal with right now. I’m so sorry that you’re hurting. We’re all hurting.” 
“No, YOU are not hurting. WE are hurting!” He pointed forcefully at the ceiling towards the other children above us, and with that he turned, stomped to his bedroom, and slammed the door. 
I stood there frozen. 
I will let him cool down. 
I slowly walked up the stairs, and I paused when I reached the top. My hand gripped the railing. It was dark, and everyone had already gone to bed. 
I turned right and made my way down the hallway that led to the other three bedrooms; the doors were all shut tight. I reached out a shaky hand towards the first door handle, and then hesitated. 
I was a failure. 
Instead, I turned and opened the door to my very own bedroom. It was dimly lit; the only light was a small antique lamp on the side table. This was a spacious room, but there was not much in it. It felt hollow. This room was a constant reminder of another time—a time of sex and sometimes warmth—now it was cold and empty. I crawled into the bed with my clothes still on and pulled over the covers. I switched the lamp off, lay my head down, and cried myself to sleep. 
It was just another day in the life.

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My blood pressure began to rise. “Excuse me. What did you say? Don’t give me that cheek. I really appreciate all that you do, but I don’t deserve this kind of treatment from you.” I said sharply. Noah’s lips tightened, but he stayed silent. I tried to change the subject. “Where’s Jacob?” “I put him to bed at seven because he got into the mayonnaise and sour cream again. He was fisting it into his mouth like a barbarian.” “Did you feed him anything?” I asked. “Well, I gave him crackers and juice. Does that count?” Noah said sarcastically. I was really starting to get annoyed. “He probably got into the fridge while you were watching TV, didn’t he?” Noah glared at me. “Well, I guess you got what you deserved for not watching him properly.” “No, I didn’t because I left it for you to clean up. Good luck!” And with that he pushed past me with his shoulder and stormed down the stairs. I followed him, and my heart pounded in my ears. “What the Hell Noah! What’s wrong with you?” His fists were clenched, and he had his back to me. I grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him around, but he was too strong for me, so I went in front of him. “I said, what is wrong with you?” Noah’s eyes were wet, and his shoulders trembled. Immediately my frustration dissipated and turned into concern. “Noah, what’s wrong?” I said more gently this time. “It's YOU!” he sobbed through angry tears. “It’s because of YOU that we’re not a family anymore; it is because of YOU that we’re going to move and leave all my friends; it’s because of YOU that you’re never home! I AM TIRED OF IT!” This is what my son thought of me? “Noah, it’s not as easy as that.” “What do you mean it’s not as easy as that? It is easy. Figure your shit out so that we can be a family again! I don’t want to leave my friends. I love this village. It doesn’t have to be this way!” He shouted through thick sobs. I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around him to comfort him, but I knew that he would not let me. “Noah,” I said more calmly this time. “Being an adult is complicated. Being married is complicated. These are adult problems that adults need to deal with right now. I’m so sorry that you’re hurting. We’re all hurting.” “No, YOU are not hurting. WE are hurting!” He pointed forcefully at the ceiling towards the other children above us, and with that he turned, stomped to his bedroom, and slammed the door. I stood there frozen. I will let him cool down. I slowly walked up the stairs, and I paused when I reached the top. My hand gripped the railing. It was dark, and everyone had already gone to bed. I turned right and made my way down the hallway that led to the other three bedrooms; the doors were all shut tight. I reached out a shaky hand towards the first door handle, and then hesitated. I was a failure. Instead, I turned and opened the door to my very own bedroom. It was dimly lit; the only light was a small antique lamp on the side table. This was a spacious room, but there was not much in it. It felt hollow. This room was a constant reminder of another time—a time of sex and sometimes warmth—now it was cold and empty. I crawled into the bed with my clothes still on and pulled over the covers. I switched the lamp off, lay my head down, and cried myself to sleep. It was just another day in the life.

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