Crazy Cakes Hits the Stage

When I was married there was this invisible woman called Crazy Cakes that lived in my soul.  I  hid her behind my husband. I hid her in my marriage. No one knew how needy I was, or how insecure. No one knew how overwhelmed and confused I was about motherhood. No one knew but my wusband. Poor bastard. I look back now and see how weighted he was by my need to use him as my shelter.

Now that I'm a single woman, and more than that, a single mother, it seems my crazy is all over the place. It is a shirt I wear, and a stamp on my forehead SINGLE MAMA - WARNING UNSTABLE MATERIAL - may ruin her kids or her life at any moment. And yes, I realize I have a blog, but in truth, this rag only carries about 50% of my crazy, okay maybe 75%.

I am a woman who needs to process things verbally. I like to talk things out before I make a decision. I used to have my husband to do that with, now I have a great community. The thing about sharing with your community though is that everyone gets to know your Crazy Cakes. It's a trade off. I get my freedom. I get to make decisions on my own (sometimes this is a burden), but then my Crazy Cakes is on stage for everyone to see. She's doing her dance, she's miming her worries, she's sobbing out her hurts. She is showing off her spangly underpants that may possibly have a hole, and no one is going to lift up her skirt for her to cover her ass. In the end Crazy Cakes is on her own.

A single mama has no one to blame for the outcomes in her life but herself. I cannot not blame my husband for not doing the dishes, or ruining the dinner. I can't blame him if we're broke at the end of the month. I cannot blame him for the fact that my kids aren't involved in after school activities, or sometimes those beasts go without bathing for over a week. I can't say it's my husband's fault that I have introduced my kids to men that I date before that magical 1 year mark. I can't blame it on my husband that sometimes I want to run screaming from motherhood like it is a six headed monster with suction cup hands. That is all my parenting. That's all me, and it's all out there in the world for you to see.

When I was a married mama I judged single mamas for those things because their lives did not fit into my concept of successful mama-ing. I judged them because I didn't understand. Now I get it ladies, and damn, I'm sorry I was such a judgmental hag. Interestingly, what I know after being married for a minute or two is that the marrieds (especially at this stage in the game) are just as crazy as me. Their crazy is just as invisible as mine used to be when I was married, but now that I've been on both sides, I see it. I see you Married Crazy Cakes, give a little wave.

Once she came out, I used to be ashamed of my Crazy Cakes. I felt less than. I felt crazier than you, more damaged than the marrieds, more angst ridden than most, but these days I've begun to realize some things. Just because my Crazy Cakes is on stage, doesn't mean I'm less of a mother, or not as sane a person as someone else. Just because I don't have a husband doesn't mean I can't make sound decisions, ON MY OWN. Just because my kids' dad doesn't live in our house doesn't mean that their lives suck. The beasts and I just don't have the luxury of hiding what makes our family different. We can't hide that our house is a single parent home. We can't hide that my kid's dad lives across town. My wusband left and I was too heartbroken and tired to go out and get another to replace him, and now I don't want too. I like our family of three.

I have to tell you these days I am starting to really like Crazy Cakes too. Less and less do I feel the need to apologize for her, or justify her behavior. I find myself relishing the joy and spontaneity of single mamahood. I am enjoying motherhood so much more now that I am not trying to fit into a mold of what I thought perfect mothering was. It is not that judgement doesn't sting, but I'm learning that if a little judgement is the price I pay for this delicious life then I will take it. In my bones I know I am a good mother. In my bones I know that I can make the right decisions for myself and my children. In my heart and soul I know that failure will not ruin us, and so far it seems to only be making us stronger.

I love my bones.