Dear, Children's Place... WTF is up with the hookerwear?

Fall has descended upon the Chicagoland area so I decided that I better descend upon a kids store and pick up my daughter a couple of hoodies and some new pants since she's outgrown her fall and winter clothes from last year. Imagine my utter delight when I stumbled upon this little jewel while ordering online today from The Children's Place.

Why yes, yes, those are in fact black sequin leggings that the Children's Place suggests I pair with their equally lovely faux leopard print fur coat for my six year old.

Thanks for the fashion tip Children's Place but I'm dressing a little girl, not a 58 year old hooker from Jersey with a Pall Mall dangling from her ruby red lips and a flask of cheap vodka shoved between her boobs.

Jersey, sorry, no offense intended. You gave us Bon Jovi and The Boss so you're all good in my book.

The Children's Place... we've gotta talk. I'm gonna need your design and marketing team to stop spending their weekends catching up on Jersey Shore reruns. I'll let them off the hook for watching Jerseylicious because I do secretly love those Gatsby bitches. But come on, these are kids. Let's save the hookerwear for college. Or for those Toddlers and Tiaras freaks. Mmmmmkay? Thanks.

xoxo,
Single Mom Survives

PS. No really, WTF?

The One Where I Ask You To Drive a Truck Over My Head

I'm warning you right now... this is a half assed post that I'm typing and clicking the publish button on because my head is about to implode. Fuck spell checking and proof reading (actually, I'm not really good at that anyway so this is pretty much business as usual).

I'm the proud new owner of the biggest fuck-my-life moment to date. What I'm about to tell you is a true story. Everything I tell you is a true story but I just needed to emphasize it this time because if I were you reading this I would be all she's-totally-making-this-shit-up-because-this-is-so-epically-awkward-it-can't-be-true. Oh no my friends, this story is true. Horribly, horribly, true.

Tonight was Back to School night at my daughters elementary school where she is in first grade. I've been pumped for this night and looking forward to it. Hell to the yeah first grade! I only have one kid so let's get this party started. This is the year I sign up to volunteer to be a mystery reader, help with class parties and to try and crack that PTO coconut right open and stick my silly straw in it and sip away at the cliquey mommy establishment like a cold Pina Colada on a hot day in single mom Hell. I'm going to move things and shake things and OK maybe I'll just hand out some cupcakes at the Valentines day party and get suckered into chaperoning another field trip from Hell. Either way, I'm getting involved and taking days off of work to do it this school year not because it's important to the teacher but because it's important to my daughter.

Yes, I'm gong to be that mom. Even if it kills me, and now clearly I see that it may.

Don't get me wrong, the night was going great tonight. Her teacher's presentation was superb, my daughter adores her and so do I. I had a great time sitting at her little desk and looking through her first two weeks of school work, which included a family picture she drew of the two of us along with our two cats and the insane puppy. I left a note for her in her school desk for tomorrow telling her she was awesome and how proud I am of her. It was a great mommy evening, I love being the mom of a grade schooler and I'm embracing it. I'm also probably overcompensating and will drive her to a good ten years of therapy. Whatever. I show up.

After the presentation it was sign up time. I made my way to each list and signed up for everything, obviously I'm insane. I signed up to be a mystery reader one week, I signed up to help out with class chores, I signed up to help at all three holiday parties and I signed up for the PTO. And as I signed my name on the last sign up sheet and turned to walk away it happened.

If this were a movie I'd freeze the frame right here and insert the sound effect of tires screeching to a terrifying halt. So imagine that if you will.

I turn to walk away from the classroom sign up lists when I bump into another mom who had just signed up for everything as well. Clearly the crazy is rampant in this classroom. I recognize her because her son was also in my daughters Kindergarten class last year. I excuse myself and tell her sorry, it's a tight fight with all those maniacal moms in such a small room. She pauses and looks at me and says, cautiously guarding her words as she speaks, "I ran into your daughter this summer". What? Then she tells me it was at a water park an hour away by my ex-husbands house and I'm all "oh she must have been with her dad." And she no, it was when she met up with her friends at the water park and she was with her step-mother, Mrs 2.0.

Then the rest was a blur as she awkwardly tries to explain that she's friends with Mrs. 2.0 (who I totally mentioned lives like an hour car ride away right?) And in that moment I tilted my head to the side a little, stared at her blankly with my mouth gaping open, and totally lost my shit in my head. Our worlds are completely separate, we don't live near each other because he moved away when he moved in with Mrs. 2.0. Living in my own world, except for when we do visitation swaps, has been sweet and easy for the past six years given our lack of mutual friends and distance.

She stumbles through her introduction mentioning what a small world it is. I can tell she's nervous, choosing each word thoughtfully. I can see it in her eyes, the flashing lights of a neon "awkward" sign. I'm listening to her and the whole time I'm having this inner dialogue with her without actually saying the words because it's not like you can say "so you do realize your friend totally slept with my husband and she's kind of a slut bag right?" Yeah, you can't say that. You can think it but you can't say it in the middle of your kids first grade classroom.

What you can say however is what I said when I finally gathered one quarter of my senses and that's... "Ummm this is really awkward, you see our worlds don't usually collide but I'm really glad you introduced yourself and told me" and then like a jackass repeat - out loud - the word awkward another five times because saying "awkward" over and over is way less awkward than saying "Holy shit, that whore waffle has friends? Has she fucked your husband too?"

And before you get all judgey, yes, I realize that my daughter has two parents and that he is a part of her life but the fact is that he has not been involved at all in her school life so far. He's never attended a parent teach conference, even in pre-school, or any Back to School or Parent nights. I understand the commute is rough and he's busy with work and we've been fine with that. And I know that my daughters classroom and her school experience is about her and is not about me. I know this and it is. I will admit though, a small part of me is eager to make some mom friends in our neighborhood through school activities. It's selfish, I know. And clearly that is why the universe is punishing me because, yes, you've got it - she signed up for all of the same volunteer opportunities I did as well. Thank you, friend of Mrs. 2.0 for sticking your finger in the magic bubble in which I have been living. Hey, it must have taken enormous balls for her to approach me and tell me. She's probably awesome.

I'm going to need one of you to just drive a truck over my head please each time I go to school for these volunteer days I signed up for now. Thank you.

PS. Dear God or Baby Jesus or Buddah or Oprah or whoever the fuck is running this shit, it's really not nice to screw with the single moms. I know, this shit is real funny from up there and there has to be a lesson here but really knock it off. Oh, and bring back the Maple flavored frapps to Starbucks this fall? Mmmkay? Thanks.

When the Bling Doesn't Mean a Thing

So he liked it and he put a ring on it. Then he tripped anyway and now you're left with a rock that doesn't mean a thing to you. Come on Beyonce don't let us down, now what do the single ladies do?  

  

My sparkler, which was given to me on bended knee under the Eiffel Tower while vacationing in Paris, has been sitting in a box for six years next month. Yes, it was a moment that chick flicks are made out of but the end of my marriage was more the stuff of a Rob Zombie horror film. Still, I'm embarrassed to admit, for years I couldn't even think of parting with it. Now a lifetime has passed and I'm ready to part with it if need be, even if it does still pain me slightly. 

Just because the ring doesn't mean a thing doesn't mean it's not worth anything. For single parents finances are usually tighter than a pair of skinny jeans after Thanksgiving dinner. What to do with the bling consolation prize after divorce is a conundrum facing many women, including myself. I decided to ask my Twitter followers what they did with their ring and what I should do with mine. What good is a ring sitting in a safe deposit box? Of all the questions I've asked the Twitterverse I received more replies to this one than any question before. If my exploding timeline is any indication, both men and women have some pretty passionate opinions on this ring thing. 

The responses pretty much fell into three categories:

1. Sell it and use the money to pay for a keg party, my daughters college tuition, a family vacation or a combination of the three. (I'm totally down with a Disney vacation with my daughter and/or a Disney keg. I bet those geniuses at Disney totally make magic mouse juice like nobody's business. Wait, that would probably be a parenting fail.)

2. Have it reset into another piece of jewelry for either myself or my daughter when she's older. (My issue with this is that this will actually cost me money and honestly, I don't even want the cursed gem around.)

3. Give it to my daughter when she's ready to get married. (I take issue with this one given my belief the ring is filled with bad juju.)

And then something spectacular happened... No really. I mean it. The hilarious Tweeter  @goodbadfamily and blogger behind The Good, The Bad & The Family (go follow her, no really do it now, I'll wait) sent me a link that was so comically amazing, yet gut wrenching tragic, that I almost wet my pants. Like a fairy God Mother of sarcasm and snark she handed me the answer to the what-the-hell-do-you-do-with-the-ring dilemma.


Prepare yourself because this is some seriously good shit. 


Meet Exboyfriendjewelry.com - holy balls, how did I not know about this site? This site is a hidden gem. So check it out, you can sell not only your engagement or wedding ring here, oh no it gets better, you can sell anything an ex gave you here. And just when you thought it couldn't get more awesome than than that, you can post your story behind the item you're selling. Oh Hell yeah. The chicks behind this site are my new heroes. 


I could have spent hours on this site, and okay I admit I probably spent at least two hours before I couldn't take any more. I mean my head almost exploded from the inner dialogue. Let me share with you a few examples. Humor me if you will and I think you'll see what I'm talking about. 


With each listing the user can list the "scoop", the story behind the ring. In fact, they are encouraged to. The "scoop" is what makes this site spectacular, brilliant in fact. I mean I'll browse this site just for the "scoop" alone!  Follow me here... 

. 

Oh honey, your husband owned a jewelry store and all you got was a 2 carat ring? Pfft. You should slap that on a tee shirt and sell it. I'm hoping for this woman's sake that this is one of five stones she's selling. Stingy bastard. 

Wait, what? She found out through her reverend that her fiance was still married one month before the wedding? What was this dudes plan? He may have been a big fat liar but if you take a look at her user name in the upper right hand corner I suspect that "Teenie" is her final ode to his manhood. 

Hey NCBS, have you met Teenie? Let me introduce you. 

Awkward. 

I don't even know how to calculate .75 of a year because math is just so not my thing but I dig this chick. She had me at SLUT PUPPY. 

Yes, really. Good news is you totally win the best user name award though. 

No sweetie, you know what's "f-ing stupid"? A dude buying a ring that looks like a Princess Diana knockoff. That's stupid. Hugs.

Huh?!? Holy shit. Run dude. Don't walk, run. Your girlfriend is crazy. 

What? Everyone knows that if it's Halloween and you're dressed up in a slutty whore costume it totally doesn't count. Just kidding, she's a bitch. However, if your mommy has to sell your ring for you then you're probably not ready to get married. PS. Call me. 

Chunky Dunkin' (Or How I Spent My Summer)

As summer simmers down and gives way to the fall school year I'm left, as most busy parents are, wondering where all of the time went. I started this summer with a goal, a simple one really. It was a personal goal that I knew would affect my daughter equally and as it turns out, as I look back on how we spent our summer days, it did. That goal? To get over myself. 

My daughter has been asking for as long as she could speak to go to the pool during the summer. In years past she would ask for me to take her to the park district pool and I was full of excuses. I could come up with more excuses than Lindsay Lohan could for falling down in front of the paparazzi. I'm going to be real, I'm fat. The thought of putting on a bathing suit and heading to the pool in front of all the perfectly hot MILFy moms terrified me. I let vanity hold me back from being the fun parent and, yes, I am ashamed to admit this. 

Not this year. This was the year I decided that I was going to get over myself. I should be the one leading the way for my daughter. It's my job to teach her to heck with what other people think and live, live loud. I had let vanity become a road block to my daughters happiness and enjoyment of summer in years past. I know, what kind of jerky mom does that? Then something changed. I went through a lot at the end of last year health wise and I no longer took my life for granted. It did change me forever, for the better. Good things do come from the bad, at least for me they did. I often think that they do for all of us, we just have to be willing to search for it and open enough to see it. I learned that I didn't want to be the mom making excuses for not living. Really living. 

I'd rather be the fat mom in all of her glory in the pool playing with her kid than the fat mom who is not. I'm going to start working on the "fat mom" thing again but in the meantime I'm not sitting on the sidelines. 

We went to the community pool every single weekend that I had my daughter this summer. I noticed something kind of amazing during the time we spent at the pool. There were probably only about 2 MILFs rocking their bikinis (and God bless them) but all of the other moms there were kind of just like me. Even more important, nobody cared. Everyone was busy doing the same thing I was, getting over their selves and just enjoying being a parent. After our first trip to the pool I gave up caring what other people might think and just started playing and honestly this was the best summer that my daughter and I have ever had. It's amazing what happens when stop thinking inward and spend more time acting outward. The nonsense in your head flows right away with it and you live. Really live. 

I'm going to take this summer lesson and use it as school starts this week and my daughter begins first grade. I'm not going to be afraid. I don't care what the world thinks of me, I care what my daughter thinks of me. Oh sure, when she's sixteen she'll be trying to figure out how to shank me in my sleep for my falsely perceived oppressive parenting ways, but even then I'll still have had this summer. 

So the half-assed moral of the story is suck it up (or in) buttercup because nobody gives a diddle about half the things in your head that are holding you back. This goes for not only you single moms but for you married moms as well. Oh yeah, and all three guys that read my blog this goes to you too. Everyone else is too busy sucking in their own insecurities to be bothered to notice yours. So whatever your thing is get over it and slap on your metaphorical bathing suit and dive in. Well, except for the two token hot MILFs who are inevitably always at the pool walking around with a four month old baby on their hip. They can keep on doing whatever it is that they are doing, just don't let them stop you. 

I'm glad I didn't or I would have missed out on a summer of this, and this was pretty spectacular...

Sure, go in, I swear the pool is heated. Sucker. 

No, that is not a whales vagina.
(Who designs these things??)

Awesome.