Something happened last night that jolted me out of a deep sleep. It was so terrifying that I woke up screaming. I had an erotic dream involving my ex husband! What does that mean? This is the guy who dumped me for his secretary- the man who bought me a weed whacker for Valentines Day, and the same guy who considers pretzels and beer an aphrodisiac. I’ve made such progress since my divorce, why now this horrible subconscious sabotage? Maybe since things are going so well it’s meant to be a reminder not to take my new life for granted. That I can handle, but couldn’t I just have dreamt I showed up to the school in my bathrobe? It’s much less shocking and more of a premonition.

Yesterday my daughter called me selfish because I locked the bathroom door in order to paint my toe nails without interruption. Today my son told me I was inconsiderate because I stopped to pick up my dry cleaning on the way home from his soccer practice! The sick part is I felt bad. Taking the time to not look wrinkled and have turquoise toe nails has made feel guilty. What’s next, “don’t brush your hair?” “Washing your face cuts into snack time?” I try to put the kids first, but spring has sprung and these feet need some serious coats of paint! I guess I’ll have to resort to my old habit of setting an alarm for 2a.m. putting on a full face of makeup and going back to sleep; at least until someone finds a way to mix Motherhood with personal hygiene.

Because of the way our schedule works, I will be without kids this Easter. The good news is I can avoid biting off the head of the chocolate bunny in a fit of self pity. The bad news is I have to figure out how to spend the day. I could go to my friend Kim’s house, but who wants to watch someone else’s family haggle over Easter ham. I could go to my sisters house but that would require actually wearing an Easter bonnet. (no I’m not kidding.) My best bet is to accept the offer to go to an all you can eat champagne brunch with some of my other single gal pals. We can trade war stories, bash our exes, and scope out cute waiters, all under the healthy glow of unlimited champagne and baked goods!

I’m dating fairly regularly and I feel like I’ve started to get the hang of single life. I’m starting to get slightly comfortable so why is it the people around me aren’t? It seems no matter how good my life is no one can breathe easy until I’m matched up again. For some reason when I meet up with co workers, Moms from school, extended family, they all want to talk about who they know that would be a perfect match for me. I mean what’s the panic for? I acknowledge I’m pretty hot with the right hair style in the right light with the right push up bra…..but gimme a break! I’m actually okay with being single right now. I’m figuring things out on my own for the first time in a long time. I don’t need to be married off in a hurry. Unless he’s got Bill Gates wallet and Brad Pitts butt. Then I’m in for sure.

My daughter is so literal it’s going to get me into trouble. Yesterday I went out front to grab the paper. When her Dad called she told him they were home alone! I was on the front lawn!!! I fell asleep watching late night TV and she told her teacher I sleep on the couch fully dressed. My reputation has always been questionable, the last thing I need is for my kid to be fanning the flames. I finally sat her down and told her not to tell everyone exactly everything Mommy’s doing. It seemed to be working, that is until she told my ex-Mother-in -law I told her not to be so honest. Nothing keeps you in check faster than a child who can’t keep her trap shut.

I think I’m jealous of my ex husbands girlfriend. Not because she has him, for that I’m grateful. It’s certainly not for the way she looks. I could also look like that with enough peroxide, teeth whitener, and a quick trip back in a time machine. It’s not even the fancy car he bought her to compensate for his lack of….. Well any way it’s none of the obvious things. It’s because my kids actually like her. They look forward to spending time with her and they’re starting to bond. I know that’s probably better for them and a lot more emotionally healthy. I mean come on; do I really want them to dislike her? HELL YES!!!! I want them to turn on her and let her feel as rotten as she and my ex made me feel. I want them to pledge total and complete loyalty to the one parent who let’s them watch TV on school nights. But most of all I want them to be happy. If liking the women who drove Mommy into a sugar coma makes the transitions easier, I’ll just have to swallow my pride-and a few huge spoonfuls of raw cookie dough.

I’ve been dating a nice guy who happens to have kids. I know I’m getting ahead of myself, but should this progress I just can’t imagine combining two families. On the one hand it could be okay to bring in some new kids to mess it up, but on the other hand, I can’t handle my own kids. Nothing kills romance faster than having someone who aint your ex yelling at your kids. I could go the other way and be the super cool step Mom. I could get them fake I.D.’s and let then throw massive parties at the house. But then I’d be setting a bad example for my own kids since they would not be allowed out of their rooms until the police were gone. I guess the best case scenario is to see if this relationship lasts the Fourth of July. By then I’ll have a list of the best boarding schools!

Am I the only one who occasionally hides from her kids? I don’t mean seriously hide, I mean standing in the corner of the laundry room, eyes shut, clutching a handful of carbohydrates. Every now and then I just have to steal a few minutes in a room I know my kids would never inhabit.

This leaves me with two choices; the laundry room or the cedar closet. Until I find a guy who thinks the smell of cedar is an aphrodisiac I’ll stick to the space behind the dryer. It just gives me a moment to re group and re adjust.

It started out as an experiment. I would wait in there while my children screamed for seconds on lemonade. I thought that if they did not see me they might actually seek out their own liquids. So far no such luck!

Just for the record, it’s not Dick Clark. I’m the world’s oldest teenager.

For the past few months I’ve suddenly become everyone’s last minute babysitter. “It’s our date night; can you sit for the kids?” “We have tickets to the theater, any chance the twins can spend the night?” Or my personal favorite, “I didn’t think you had any plans, can Sasha stay for dinner?”

Hey I get it, I’m a single white female but that doesn’t mean I’m opening a youth hostel. These folks are either highly insensitive or grossly negligent to be leaving their kids with me. Hello, I’m the Mom who keeps soda in the fridge? This is the best incentive I ever needed for dating.

If sitting at home feeling sorry for myself means listening to someone else’s kid demand I cut the crusts off their sandwich…I will date every available man in a twenty mile radius. As long as he’s got a drivers license and can make his own grilled cheese.

Every once and a while when I’m talking to my sister I stop listening to her and just stare. How could we possibly have come from the same parents? She’s perky, thin, and organized. There’s nothing on my body or in my personality you would ever describe as perky. The only thing thinning on me are my nerves, and my idea of organization is having exact change at the drive thru. You’d think we were raised on opposite sides of the earth. I’m starting to sense there’s a cosmic joke involved here. I’m noticing my daughter is perky and her little one is a wise ass. Maybe it’s through raising girls that resemble each other; we will achieve some common ground. Or maybe we should just switch daughters before further genetic damage occurs.

Today my daughter asked me if we could move. She told me our house seemed used. Guess what honey, I’m used!! I would love to strike a match to this place and start over but this house of cards is being held up so delicately that one sudden shift in priorities- the whole place will tumble.

Even though I want to snap at her the reality is I feel the same way. I want a fresh start and it just doesn’t seem possible. After the divorce and the re- adjustment period it would be nice to wipe the slate clean. Better yet it would be even nicer to re write the script completely. I would marry the right guy, pick the perfect career and avoid the unfortunate perm I got after college. Seeing as that’s not going to happen I will let my daughter pick out new bedding, settle for a blind date with my co workers brother and treat myself to a Japanese hair straightening.

One of the best things about being divorced is having every other weekend for yourself. One of the worst things…is having every other weekend for yourself. I approach these weekends with mental lists full of all the things I’m going to accomplish. I’m going to hit the gym, clean the garage, read a new book, highlight my hair, meet a girlfriend for lunch, see a new movie, take an art class, and go on a couple of dates.

What ends up happening to my mental list? It’s replaced by a newer list of why I’m mental. I feel sorry for myself which makes me eat junk, then I feel worse for having eaten poorly so I take a walk….to the mall where I try on close that don’t fit. That makes me hit the food court which propels me back home to my living room couch where this vicious cycle began. By the time I’m ready to take on the weekend, my ex is honking the car horn outside and the kids are back! I did highlight my hair though. It will look awesome in two weeks when I’m joining that yoga class.

Now add “great actress” to the job description for being a Mother. I don’t have another school concert left in me. Sitting on a cold metal folding chair, directly behind your ex husband and his girlfriend, while listening to seven year olds play “Oh Susannah” on violins- and not looking horrified? That requires the kind of acting challenge usually reserved for Meryl Streep. I don’t want to break my son’s spirit. I want him to try new things and discover hidden talents. I just want him to do this out of my ear shot! This kind of pageantry is the ultimate revenge designed by teachers who have had enough of obnoxious parents. It’s the perfect response you to the Mom’s and Dad’s who’ve made the teacher lives a living hell. “You think I’m not a good teacher? Think about it some more while chaffing on cold metal to the sweet sounds of poorly tuned instruments.” It’s actually a brilliant strategy. I wish I could lock a few people in the school gym and force them to listen to me blow my own horn!!

I’m really starting to enjoy being single. Not because I’m free to date and dry my bras in the shower, but because I can navigate throughout my day making all of my own decisions. I’m the one and only boss in my home. It’s become a benevolent dictatorship where I only have to consult myself and maybe the magic eight ball once and awhile for the trickier stuff. I was so wound up for so long about not having a husband around. How would I cope? Who would back me up when the kids were out of control? Well I’m finding out I’m actually pretty tough when I need to be. The phrase “wait til your father comes home “is now completely gone from my vocabulary. I’m not saying I’ll never want a man around again but I really love the fact that it would be a want and not a need. Speaking of want I really want someone to rub my sore shoulders, and I really need someone to drive the kids to soccer on Saturday mornings, but hey for now that’s what Kim and Kelly are for!

Nothing makes me angrier than when my ex husband showers the kids with gifts on his weekends. I tell them they have to wait for certain toys. I bribe them with the hopes of maybe on a day when they spontaneously clean their rooms and pick up after the dog, that coveted item could be theirs. Then before I’ve used that vague promise to its fullest, he buys them each two toys! Come on Santa Daddy, cut me some slack. Isn’t it bad enough you drained my checking account as well as my emotional savings? I can’t compete as a single Mom on a nurse’s salary. Sure I can provide latex gloves and all the tongue depressors a kid could want, but video games and designer duds? Not this millennium. I’m sure I sound bitter and I suppose I should be happy he’s stuck buying the goods, but that means he gets the glory too! I want some superficial love. I’m get the needy, help me with my homework I feel sick can I sleep with you make me my favorite dinner kind of love. Hold on, that’s the stuff that sticks! That’s the stuff they put Mommy in the ritziest retirement home on the planet for! I’ll take it. Good luck finding a decent canasta game in the North Pole Santa Daddy.