Just enough for a panic attack

Solo parenting is hard work. You get all the praise and all setbacks. All the rewards and all the punishment. It’s fun sometimes and hard all the time. Planning, organization, structure- things I live for, right?

There’s an unopened bottle of children’s Xyzal on my kitchen pantry waiting to be moved to the bathroom cabinet. Waiting for an adult to move it, kids don’t touch medicines.

Oh wait, I’m that adult. Dammit. Add it to my list, I’ll do it later.

A week later the bottle is still there. Your emergency is not my emergency. I’ll just move it when I need it I guess. Or during my next batch of stress induced cleaning/rearranging.

Last night I had to shout to be heard. The kids were playing, no one was getting hurt, but they were loud and talking over each other even louder. I hate having to shout to be heard.

I want my kids to be themselves. I don’t want to limit their creativity, their drives, their personalities. But I also have to keep order. I can’t be in all places all the time. I have to put limits. Like the smallest kid, Riker has to be followed around the house. House training is getting a lot better, but I still sometimes find accidents he snuck in. I just have to wait it out, he’s usually really good about it. Not to mention his obsession with Paige’s bed and her stuffies.

He also can’t be alone with the kids, so when Charlotte runs into my room after the marathon run of the hallway I yell for her to come back. They can’t play in her room alone, my room alone, Paige’s room… I have to be there. Structure. Control. More yelling.

I guess it’s good my kids don’t always think they’re in trouble when I yell, but they know I’m serious and they need to do something now. Paige is a bit more sauntering with her responses as she gets older, she’s becoming a clown in her facial expressions like her dad. Over exaggerated responses and movements, both good and bad. Waiting for me to laugh, she can usually make me laugh and I have to look away to keep a straight face.

I keep waiting for… something. I keep waiting for something to change. Everything changes every day- the kids get bigger, the dogs get older, the weather is never the same (it’s supposed to snow tomorrow again). Nothing changes- I’m still here, I’m still a solo parent.

It’s been 2 years. Two years since Bob died, as of tomorrow. The anniversary of the worst day of my life. And I’m still here. I’m still raising the girls. I’m still writing, still blogging, still expanding in something I love to do. I’m still unable to get rid of his big work boots, his shoes that will never fit the girls or me. But I’m still here. I’m still doing the hard things.

I’ll take my merit badge please. I have to show myself how things have changed since it’s the unseen changes that are the biggest.

We’re still here. And we’ll keep going.