Saturday, September 11, 2010

I'll Take It

For me, one of the hardest parts of being a single parent is the absolute lack of support.  When you have a partner, they might help out or might reinforce you in your efforts, being supportive of the things that you do to care for the child you share.  That just doesn't happen in my world. 

I've grown used to parenting as a solitary venture, but I haven't grown entirely used to having my efforts taken for granted.  In my weaker moments, I rather long for an "atta girl."  But I'm not in this game for myself, I'm in it for my boy, and so I remind myself of that important fact and tamp down my desire to be appreciated.

I'm also reaching that point in child-raising when my son has plenty of activities and plans.  More and more often, I find myself on my own, serving as his social calendar manager, while he's off with his friends.  So it was on Wednesday, when he had baseball practice in the afternoon, followed up by a sleepover at a friend's house.  I helped him organize his baseball bag for practice and then picked him up after practice, armed with a sleeping bag, pillow, and a bag packed for the overnight.

JT got in the car after practice, checked out the supplies for his next activity and then said, "I knew I'd forgotten to ask for my sleeping bag and I was a little worried.  But then I remembered that you are Super Mama, and I knew you would have it.  Thanks, Mama."

I don't really think that I am a Super Mama.  Far from it, in fact.  Mostly, I get the job done. And that's fine.  But I have to say that being called Super Mama was pretty sweet.  It's really, really nice to be appreciated.

2 comments:

Jason Brozek said...

Very sweet. For me, it's the un-asked-for "I love you, papa" from the 2 1/2 year-old that does it.

Nichole said...

Atta girl. :-) I know how you feel. My family must think the shampoo magically appears in the shower and that when they use the last bit of Ranch dressing I psychically know about it. I honestly think that's why women need friends that are similar to them: they can pat each other on the back and sympathize while drinking a few margaritas. I love my hubby, but I need my girls, too.