Superwoman
In 1975, I was 10-years-old. That year, a new show came on television - One Day at a Time. It starred Bonnie Franklin as Ann Romano - a single mother of two teenage girls, just trying to to make it through Life, quite literally, one day at a time.
My mother wouldn't let me watch it. It was "too liberal" (which was a word I heard later, when I was a bit older and asked her again why she didn't like the show). What I knew at the time was that being a single mother was bad (but I didn't know why). And I knew that talking openly about (anything) topics like sex and drugs was really bad (but I didn't know why).
Regardless, we only had one channel and choices were limited, so I watched the show anyway... very, very quietly (my mother might have been a little woman, but she could be scary).
I liked Ann Romano. A lot. She was tough. She was pretty cool. Her kids talked to her in an open, honest way - a way I never talked to my own mother (not then, and not after, ever). And if I'm honest, part of her appeal was the fact that my mom thought she was so inappropriate (from that point forward, pretty much anything my mother didn't approve of held significant appeal).
When I think about it now, I laugh. Hard. Little did my mother (or I) know, I would grow up to be Ann Romano (sans one daughter). I've spent the last 15 years as a single mother, just trying to make it through Life, quite literally, one day at a time.
I never intended to be a single mom. I never wanted to be a single mom. But now? I can't imagine being anything but. I can't fathom what it would be like to be part of a co-parenting pair.
I won't lie and say I never wished there was another person to help shoulder the load... I did. Plenty of times. But, by myself, I raised a strong, brilliant young woman. I raised her to think for herself, to speak her mind, to stand up for the underdog, to care about the world around her.
I don't take credit for who she is inherently... I don't take credit for her accomplishments. But part of who she is and the way she is? That's because of me. That's because of how I raised her. And while I have discounted many of my own accomplishments over the years (see yesterday's post), I'm not going to discount that one. Not today.
It was hard at times. So hard. I made a lot of mistakes. There were mom-fails. Big ones. Colossal. I struggled. I cried. But every day, I got up and - for my girl - I did the best I could with what I had. I did it alone... I did it broke... I did it through chemo... I did it exhausted... I did it (more often than not) by the seat of my pants.
When we met with the financial aid people at UVA before her freshman year, the woman helping us looked over all our paperwork and shook her head. She said, "I don't know how you've done so much for so long with so little." I laughed. I said I didn't know either. I told her that if I actually looked at it on paper, in black and white, I hyperventilated. But in the end, there we were - still standing - and one of us was going to one of the best universities in the country!
My girl is strong. She's had to be. And though she struggles with the challenges her brain chemistry throws at her every day, and with the challenges that come from being emotionally and physically abandoned by her father, she's not scared of Life. She's not scared of stepping out into this great big world. And she has no fear because of how I raised her.
My mother wouldn't let me watch it. It was "too liberal" (which was a word I heard later, when I was a bit older and asked her again why she didn't like the show). What I knew at the time was that being a single mother was bad (but I didn't know why). And I knew that talking openly about (anything) topics like sex and drugs was really bad (but I didn't know why).
Regardless, we only had one channel and choices were limited, so I watched the show anyway... very, very quietly (my mother might have been a little woman, but she could be scary).
I liked Ann Romano. A lot. She was tough. She was pretty cool. Her kids talked to her in an open, honest way - a way I never talked to my own mother (not then, and not after, ever). And if I'm honest, part of her appeal was the fact that my mom thought she was so inappropriate (from that point forward, pretty much anything my mother didn't approve of held significant appeal).
When I think about it now, I laugh. Hard. Little did my mother (or I) know, I would grow up to be Ann Romano (sans one daughter). I've spent the last 15 years as a single mother, just trying to make it through Life, quite literally, one day at a time.
I never intended to be a single mom. I never wanted to be a single mom. But now? I can't imagine being anything but. I can't fathom what it would be like to be part of a co-parenting pair.
I won't lie and say I never wished there was another person to help shoulder the load... I did. Plenty of times. But, by myself, I raised a strong, brilliant young woman. I raised her to think for herself, to speak her mind, to stand up for the underdog, to care about the world around her.
I did that.
By myself.
I don't take credit for who she is inherently... I don't take credit for her accomplishments. But part of who she is and the way she is? That's because of me. That's because of how I raised her. And while I have discounted many of my own accomplishments over the years (see yesterday's post), I'm not going to discount that one. Not today.
It was hard at times. So hard. I made a lot of mistakes. There were mom-fails. Big ones. Colossal. I struggled. I cried. But every day, I got up and - for my girl - I did the best I could with what I had. I did it alone... I did it broke... I did it through chemo... I did it exhausted... I did it (more often than not) by the seat of my pants.
But I did it.
By myself.
When we met with the financial aid people at UVA before her freshman year, the woman helping us looked over all our paperwork and shook her head. She said, "I don't know how you've done so much for so long with so little." I laughed. I said I didn't know either. I told her that if I actually looked at it on paper, in black and white, I hyperventilated. But in the end, there we were - still standing - and one of us was going to one of the best universities in the country!
I felt like freaking Superwoman that day!
My girl is strong. She's had to be. And though she struggles with the challenges her brain chemistry throws at her every day, and with the challenges that come from being emotionally and physically abandoned by her father, she's not scared of Life. She's not scared of stepping out into this great big world. And she has no fear because of how I raised her.
I did that.
By myself.
Me.
And I'm proud. Of her. And of myself. I may forget that feeling tomorrow, but today?
I own it.
And I'm proud. Of her. And of myself. I may forget that feeling tomorrow, but today?
I own it.
XO,
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