No Roses
July 2001
Referring to my fourteen long years of single parenthood, my married girl friends, all of whom are well into their second decade of marriage, have often told me how fortunate I am to be “having my cake and eating it too.” They envy what they perceive to be a good life -- lovely children and a carefree single lifestyle with nary a man to control me. Their consoling thoughts and kind intentions are, at best, misplaced though. This of course is far from the truth. To quote a line lifted from a depressing but regrettably very factual book I read – Marriage may have its thorns, but celibacy has no roses. So to my married friends – stay put. You’ve got the roses.
I have been a single parent all through my parenting life. When I was young, 22, and shallow, I thought the world of a man who, with his suave and cosmopolitan ways, swept me off my feet and promised me everything in the world – except marriage. And as most modern love tragedies go, I, the young hotel executive, fell hopelessly in love with this handsome client, and ended up being pregnant – not once – but twice, three years apart. He of course disappeared shortly after, leaving me on my solo flight: a bona fide single parent to Nikki, now 14, and Luis, 11.
So much has been said about the downside of single parenting, about the tears and heart-rending emotions and poignant domestic scenes. Yet now, as the three of us gather round the dinner table and laugh over the most mundane things that happened at school and in the office, I feel an overwhelming sense of pride at my dual role and how I have fared so far. I laugh and cry over countless incidents which a lot of single struggling moms like myself have a corner on. I wear my heartaches – sleepless nights, stale bills, and disconnection notices – like badges on my sleeve, with nothing to go on but hope, prayers, and a tremendous amount of love and concern for my children.
Single parenting is a great balancing act that requires you to wear many hats. You are the first, second, and third shift. You wake up in the middle of the night, take the temperature, give the medicine, only to do it all over again every four hours for many sleepless nights, while miraculously still managing to go to the office each morning. You are the sole arbiter of the children’s fights – since there’s nobody else to give the final decision as to who hit who first. You decide, punish, and always end up the mean (and only) parent. Only you will decide whether your daughter can go to the sleepover or not; only you will take the brunt of her “I hate you forever” when you say no. And when your son gets his asthma attack and the nebulizer doesn’t work, you get into the car and drive him to the emergency room at three in the morning – just you.
On the lighter side, having no man around the house makes matters very difficult to the point of being almost hilarious. I actually started bonding with the janitor of our apartment building. He is my knight in shining armor when the faucet leaks, the fuse blows, or when an electrical appliance smells funny. I have likewise sworn undying loyalty to the neighborhood car mechanic. I listen in awe to the strange babble coming out of his mouth, and blindly nod my head in agreement each time he talks of transmissions, contact points and radiator fans.
Which brings us now to the subject of men. And dating. Somehow, single parenthood makes you a bit more concerned about the way you look and the impact you hope you still make when you enter a restaurant or hotel lobby, matronly hips and all. After all, you must admit there is still that yearning to find the elusive Mr. Right who will one day sweep you off your feet, and upgrade your Toyota Corolla. Of course it doesn’t help your ego any when your teenage daughter swears that the young mechanic in the corner Caltex station named Ryan has a crush on you! Or when those teenage eyeballs rolls up as you try on a hopeless pair of flares or bootlegs and a tiny top you’re hoping to wear for a date that evening – all borrowed from her. And finally, it doesn’t make for very good timing when you get a text message in the middle of a dinner date that your son absolutely needs to have a ream of colored paper, a new notebook, and twelve folders with fasteners for school the next day!
No roses maybe, but…last month, while going through the Sunday papers, Luis spotted an article that read: “One Big, Happy Family.” In a very soft voice he said, “Well – that’s one thing we’re not.” The color drained from my face as I felt a sense of failure creep in. I had visions of going into counseling with him, and redesigning my life and my career to address this grave situation. I embraced him and calmly whispered, “My darling, what made you say that?” “Mom!” he gleefully replied, “I meant – we’re one SMALL happy family!!”
I have no roses. But I have garlands of sweetness.
So what was the interesting twist? In 2004, I met a man who was a single dad and who would later on become a very good friend. He was a cop and at the same time somewhat of an artist - a photographer - AND he had the ability to write. After a few months of e-mail exchanges, I sent him my No Roses essay. Within that very same morning, he responded with another essay, this time entitled "No Roses, Just Carnations".
No Roses, Just Carnations
May 2004
Single parenthood is not easy for any person, man or woman. Yet women seem to find it more acceptable, well for the most part women find it more acceptable and seem to want to help each other more. If you’re a guy, and a single Dad, most women don’t want that. In particular if the woman has no children herself or they are grown and out of the house. At one point in time, the single Mom wanted a man who would accept her children like his, but now that hers are gone; enough of kids, they don’t want to raise anyone else’s kids. Sometimes that’s a tough pill to swallow.
Being a single Dad is not one of the easier assignments I’ve had. And add to the formula that you have a little girl, not a boy and your child lives with you five out of seven days a week minimum, well life becomes an adventure. I’ve completed multiple calls, assignments and been through things that would make the average person go home. I’ve entered abandoned warehouses searching for armed gunmen, I’ve been under fire, stabbed, spit at, beat up, seen things that would make your skin crawl. And yet none of them compare to the assignment of Fatherhood. Oh don’t get me wrong, I’ve embraced the role of a single Dad as the ultimate position any Man could have; I have no regrets about being Dad. It’s the best job I’ve ever had.
Yes, I was surprised to learn my former mate was pregnant and told I was not the father. I cringed but felt nothing, as this was her doing. It was later being told I was the father that hit a bee coming in ass backwards at 60 miles an hour and striking your chin. Now there is an owie!
I went through the anger of the mother who threw the gifts and supplies I bought for the child only to have them thrown in the dumpster. I went through the anguish of being told, “You will not be in the delivery room!”
I had an option, be a part of her life or stay out all together. But the moment I held my little girl in my arms an angel from heaven softly touched my shoulder and I can still hear her saying, “Care for this gift from God for this child is yours. She did not ask to come into this world. Be kind, be gentle and give her the love she’ll need for a life time!” I don’t even remember what her mother was yelling at me about, I just remember feeling the angel and hear the words.
When I tuck my little one in to bed, even though she’s 12, I still kiss her good night and still tell her I love her. And each day that I drop her off at school and go off to work, I always say I love you. You never know when those could be your last words.
Oh the trials and tribulations of learning how to care for a baby. There is no owner’s manual. I mean you buy a car there is an owners manual. You get a VCR and there is a manual. Hell you buy a most anything and it has a manual. And there are no warranties or extended warranties. You just get what you get and you wing it.
Let’s take diapers. Now there is a subject for a tactical action plan. The first day I was allowed, and yes I use that term, allowed, I brought her into her bedroom. I laid her down in the crib and I hadn’t gone 20 seconds of looking at her when I got this odor. I mean the kind of odor that makes you squint your eyes. I let out a sound like Scooby Do, “Roh ohh!” when he’s in trouble and my baby just smiles. Oh no, diaper change time. Baby just gave me one of many gifts. So, ok no manual here, how do I do this. I know, improvise, adapt, overcome. That’s it, I can do that. So off the diaper comes and OH MY GOD what did you eat child? The tears welled up, the nose shut down and it was off to the window and open it up; turn the ceiling fan on and get a can of deodorizer. Whoops forgot to change the diaper. So off came one stinky diapie and cleaned her up lickity split, I was done. I looked like a rodeo rider roping a calf. I kind of turned to the mirror and yelled, “what’s my time?!”
However how to deal with hazardous waste. Nope, that stinky diapie was not gonna stay in the house, it would leave an odor that would keep the bugs and flies and everything else out (hmmmm…what’s the downside there?). So off it went to the outside trashcan. Rommel the dog saw me coming and it’s like he knew and even he fled the scene. What an experience.
Then there is a feeding. See this is why there should be a manual, never ever feed a baby from the front. They think it’s fun to spit it out and when they do, it comes out in force like a twelve gauge shotgun. So always feed from the side.
Oh and let’s talk about sleep; you sleep when they sleep. Life as you knew it was over. They were Master and Commander of this side of your world and they know it. They’re hungry, they cry, the poop, they cry, the want love they cry. Oh and they don’t care if it’s three in the morning or noon, they want and want it now.
Yes I agree, the trips to the doctor at all hours of the night are something else or being on a date with someone and getting a page only to learn that your child is running 103.1 and mommy won’t take her to the doctor because her son is in pajamas. Sorry ass excuse but what do you do? Sorry babe, got to cut the movie short coz the wench wont’ take the kid to the doctor.
Or you make plans for the night or day and Mommy says just keep her. So there go the plans. But I made a promise to that Angel that day and to my daughter, and that is I would never turn my back on my child. I guess that’s why she lives with me. Many a date was canceled because Mommy said keep her. That’s ok more time for me and Baby.
So as time goes this little one grows. I remember the crawling stage. They should make Olympic Events for that. I set her down on one side of the room and with in nano-seconds the kid is half way out the door.
Then I remember taking her to school. Here’s a good one, I’m ready for her to cry and not want to stay at school. Nope, hey Daddy, there are kids here. CYA, I’m gonna go play.
Oh but the camping trips and the ball games and well being a man, I didn’t know all the girl stuff. Instead of Barbies, she was throwing a football at Cal State Northridge on a tight spiral for 15 yards. She would have one the competition but we later found out they didn’t allow four year olds to compete.
Then there are the questions you have to answer. Like why other moms won’t let their little girls come over and stay the night simply because there is no woman in the house. Or why do other kids have moms and dads.
Over the last 12 years, I’ve gone through heartache with the mother of this child and later with a woman whom I loved dearly. But it came down to making a decision. I pleaded and begged don’t be jealous of a little girl. Because we walk hand in hand and she comes up to us and takes your hand and mine; that doesn’t mean she is putting a wedge between us, it means she wants to love us both and wants you as a mommy. But to no avail I was asked to make a choice. So this is why I’m a single Dad.
It is a very delicate balancing act. For the longest time I focused on my little girl to ensure she was ok with the dissolution of a five yearlong relationship between my former mate and me. She unlike me has such resilience that I envy her. “I’m ok Daddy, we were alone and doing fine before her and we’ll be fine without her!”
As the years have progressed, I see my little girl becoming a woman. Trying being a Dad and explaining the facts of life for a woman and how this affects her once a month. Wait until the arrival of this moment and deal with it. That’s an eye opener.
I could go on and on but I think I’ve made my point. No, there are no Roses, but you know, there are a lot of carnations and they are just as lovely. And you know, Carnations last longer and their fragrance lasts longer. Perhaps the joy and sacrifice of being a single father is worth my carnations.
As for being solo, I know there is a special someone for me out there. My Angel is looking for one and will let me know when the time comes. So to all single mothers, I salute you. For all single full time Dads…I honor you.
With his daughter Jennifer
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My friend has since found his rose but we still keep in touch occasionally.
