Single moms need gigolos

Aw, Richard, thanks for picking up the kids from daycare. No smoking in the house, though, K? You’re a doll.

If I had a nickel for every time I said, “We don’t whine in this family!” I could afford to hire  gigolo for a few hours. This guy wouldn’t pole dance or get freaky on me. He’d give me a goddamn hug and cook me a reasonably nutritious meal and listen to me go on about everything on my mind. Every brainstorm I’ll stream-of-conscious blab about? The best thing he’s heard all week. He’d smile kindly, appreciatively at my every quip and then ask what he can do around the house to make life easier for me.

The thing is, my gigolo fund isn’t quite vested, and so I need to whine a bit myself to top it off:

I’ve got the single mom blues in the worst way. I’m totally overwhelmed and exhausted and there is no end in sight! While most weeks my kids do stay overnight with their dad once a week, I’ve become jealous and resentful of “healthy” divorced families where both parties work together to support two careers and both parents do their best to be flexible and generous and make life work. I don’t have that. I also don’t have any financial support to run this show. I’m trying to grow my business, but that requires more child care, which would mean less time with my kids and I just can’t make that jump. I’m stuck and I’m resentful. I need more time, and I need a break. But there isn’t a spouse or an ex-spouse readily available to help make that happen.

This weekend my SMILF BFF Morghan and I took our kids away to the Pocono Mountains for a couple of days. It was  break, sure, but it was also a lot of work. More work than it was fun. I can’t shake the full-body ache that comes with this stress-induced flu I’ve had for more than a week. I’m behind on work, my kids are now sick, it seems everything in my life is being accomplished half-assed and I’m a grump. I snapped at my kids when they don’t sit up to the table when asked, and I snapped at the neighbor when she stood in my way. When we got home, the lonely cat kept curling around my legs — one more being that needs me.

Times like these I remind myself that there are plenty of happily married moms who are equally overwhelmed – their husbands often away on business or working long hours. There are other married moms, the ones with crappy husbands who don’t care, or the moms who fill with rage when their spouse walks in the room — symptoms of run-off-the-mill marriages gone sour.

And now that my whine fund is full, I’m going to call that gigolo and get my giant hug. And he will take my kids for a few hours and maybe they’ll do something fun and educational, but honestly, as long as they come back in one piece with their noses wiped, I’m good. And maybe during those hours I’ll take a nap or work out or catch up on work. Or maybe I’ll just chill out and stop feeling so goddamned sorry for myself.

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