Saturday morning I changed my tire and got eaten up by ten million mosquitoes and gnats (which I am deathly allergic to). My kids, the Track Star, the BabySitter, and BabyBrat did their things….
First of all, my kids are kicking some serious ass.except #3, BabyBrat, who is on a stiff learning curve…. this past weekend, however, sucked some serious ass. I was stood up by two different guys, one was a major relief – the other one, well, that Hurt.
Like the special snowflake that I am, let me introduce you to the boys/ men who showed me the backside of The Wall in a big way: Rock Star, one of the nicest guys I have ever met. Seriously, I am not even kidding, he is a real-deal signed and sealed rock and roll musician. He is kind, moderately attractive, and my age (within a couple of years) and has health issues that he refuses to take responsibility for…. and that’s why I can’t even.
Which is why, Rock Star, in all his guitar-playing glory, flaked out on me EIGHT minutes before he was supposed to pick me up for a date. …. Really. I blew a tire out the night before our date, changed the tire myself in the morning, went to work, dressed for the date… appropriately, but ‘pretty’ for him…. aaaaaaannnnnndddd he canceled out EIGHT minutes before he was supposed to pick me up. Eh, whatever. It would have been a relief, but I was pissed off over it.
I wasn’t even mad because he flaked out. I was pissed because one of the most excellent, talented, kind and caring men I have ever met is neglecting his own health. I mean, seriously, monitor your fucking blood sugar. (Now back to me) I am constantly hit on, degraded and objectified … not because people are assholes, but because I am a bartender and that is part of the job… Yeah. I serve a purpose and get paid decent money for it, but I am eye-candy with alcohol, but I get to listen to the problems of the miserable and be the only woman who is nice to the decent married guys who are super grateful for a woman who isn’t constantly cutting them down.
It sucks, but that is my job. I have some heavy hitting professional skills, and a degree in a STEM field, but I need the freedom of a blue collar, part-time-ish job. So, I work a pitiful, but high paying, if not psychologically difficult ‘unskilled labor” job to serve middle class assholes who think I am not smart enough to do anything else. If you could just stop looking down on me, that would be great. Meanwhile, Rock Star wasn’t the only one who stood me up Saturday night. …
Only three times in my life have I felt the “Disneyland-fireworks-heart-stopping” biology of That Guy. I am 45 years old, so that’s saying a LOT about him. I am that bitch. I planned on spending the night with That Guy after doing a friend-date with Rock Star. RS flaked out on me (because, again, he can’t manage his own health issues) and I texted That Guy that I was available earlier than expected. I was totally willing to make arrangements to stay up there – fifty miles from home – but TG told me he would “be out really late”.. so I drove home.
Got to the house to see on social media that TG was at the bar where I work TEN FUCKING MINUTES after I left. I unfriended both of them. Fuck off, good bye, hasta la never think I will speak of you (or to you again). Meanwhile, I cried my ass off all day Sunday and Monday. I cried for RS that he could have a beautiful life, but won’t even care for himself… I cried about TG because… Oh, God, That Guy… The asshole that I wanted more than anything to want me back.
While I was having my meltdown, Track Star did this: On the heels of getting the Gold in track – four medals in all four of her events at State – this child took on a second job. Nah, she didn’t get The Gold in all four events, but she kicked ass. The day after State Track was over, not one, but TWO coaches call me because since she is a Junior in High School, it is now ‘legal’ to recruit her. If $100 dropped out of the sky right now, I would go to the grocery store to buy food, but my Track Star needs new shoes and she knows I can’t buy them for her so she is earning the money herself. My kid is paying for her own future because I can’t.
So Track Star got a second job…. She now works for three bucks an hour at her “other’ job. So here is her schedule: Six AM – weights/conditioning; Volleyball Camp 8 to 11:30; Work from 11:30 to 3 ish; VB walk through until about 4:30… work from 5 to 7 then VB games until about 9…… Wash; Rinse; Repeat. Every day. Every. Fucking Day. No wonder she cries herself to sleep.
I can’t help her. I just have to watch and let her make her own way. At this point, she is a room mare that I pay car insurance for and make sure that there are tampons and TP in the house. It sucks and I am proud of what she is accomplishing all on her own. Being a single mom sucks, and I am a terrible provider when it comes to material things, but I must be doing something right – or at least well enough to not have POS kids.
Which brings me to #2…. She is working off a serious ankle injury and working full time while living with my Sis and her Hubs in another state. My gawd, this kid is putting in 50-70 hours watching other peoples’ kids. The parents love her – even the ones who totally coddle their kids and cater to their every whim. As a babysitter, my kid is the one who will laugh at the pampered brats and tell them to STFU and move on, but she makes good money and she is LOVED. Her stories from work will curdle milk….but the kids she cares for love her because she provides the only structure they have. I am so proud.
Number Three….It is a miracle I haven’t murdered this kid yet. The older two have covered for her for the last 11 years, and now she has to step up. It isn’t going well. It is hard for her to give up her role as the baby of the family. She is home alone most of the time and has to learn how to do chores alone. This Summer will be a hard one for her, but I think that it will be a good learning experience for her – at least, I hope so.
But, then again, I hope for lots of things that will never ever happen.
Welcome to the life of a single mom who never intended to be one.