Being a single mother is hard.
Not because single parenting is challenging, I mean it is. But because I used to be the soft one. I used to be the one who kissed the boo boos and who he ran to when he was hurt or upset. I wasn’t the primary disciplinarian and there was balance in the house. I could focus on him because other things were being taken care of by someone else.
Now, I’m everything. I’m the sole provider. The one who has to remember when picture day is and to wash the good shirt and make sure it isn’t wrinkled on the day of. The one who has to budget everything to make sure that there is enough money to make sure he has enough for his bus pass this month. I’m the one who has to fuss at him if he hasn’t done his chores or explain to him why he has to contribute to the house. The only one he is angry at when he is on punishment.
Because there is no balance. No one to cosign my decisions and say,”yea, your mom is right”.
I want to not have to be hard with him all the time because I’m the only one shaping him to be an adult. And I kinda want him to not be a douche or a complete asshole when he gets older. That’s what I worry about. If he grows up to be a doctor and save all of humanity it won’t matter if he’s a prick to everyone he meets. I never want anyone to know my son and say to me “boy, you must have spoiled him when he was a kid”. Nah. Not on my watch.
I just want to be soft with him again. To be the comforter. The one he snuggles with and gives sweet kisses to.
I’m venting. We’ve had a hard month. Maybe he’s just growing up on me and I can’t handle it.