Friday, January 29, 2010
Well, not exactly. I can curl it! I just look so much better when someone else gets me ready! I'm not the best at that stuff. Same goes for if you happen to compliment my purse or earrings--I can almost guarantee it was a gift. If I look exceptionally put together, that odds are good that I walked into Banana Republic and grabbed the arm of my favorite male employee there: "I'm going out in 45 minutes and this is what I want to look like. Help me." (Oh, I wish I was joking!)
I like blogging, very much, and I am incredibly flattered that people take the time to read what I write and to comment on it. I really want to be able to interact more with the people who visit my site and to encourage discussion. With the help of Lauren at My Life, Incomplete and Jamey Stegmaier, I introduce to you a better and more put together version of Single Mom Adventures: http://penelopelife.com/. I am thankful for their help in the blog makeover! If you would be so kind to visit the new site, let me know you're there and let me know what you think, that would be awesome! In addition, if you currently subscribe to this blog on Google Reader, please change the link to the new one!
I really, really appreciate you reading what I write. Talk to you soon!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
A little pet peeve confession: pet names.
I'll make it very black and white for you. You cannot call me sweetie unless, um, I'm your sweetie. Which I'm not. I cannot think of one person, with the exception of my lovely mother, who is allowed to call me that at this time. If we're in love and you roll over in bed and call me sweetie, I will think it is the most adorable thing. If you are some stranger and you hold the door open for me and call me sweetie, my blood pressure instantly rises. If you are a male friend of mine, pet names should not be in your vocabulary when talking to me. I'm pretty easygoing, about most everything. I am rather offended by people taking the liberty to call me anything other than my name.
This past summer, I was allowing myself to sort of be set up with someone. I wasn't excited about it. I felt like it was more of a chore than anything. But I also allowed myself to feel like dating was something I should be doing. So I get this voice mail from said set-up dude wanting to make plans. It was so awful to me that I was a horrible person and played it on speaker phone while out with my girlfriends for beer night.
They all looked at me. "Are you seriously that pissed that he called you beautiful?" One of them asked, a bit incredulous.
It wasn't a good, respectful thing.
It was, "Hiya, beautiful, blah blah blah, well hon, blah blah blah, give me a call sweetie. Blah."
Needless to say, my call was abrupt, direct and I declined the dinner invitation.
Am I the only one? I honestly feel like this type of talk is degrading. If you're my sweetie, you'll know. Until then, I am annoyed by pet names.
What are your pet peeves?
Monday, January 18, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
"Oh, you'll find someone!"
"You just haven't met him yet!"
"You would totally be perfect with my nephew/cousin/ex-boyfriend's sister's ex-boyfriend"
This may very well be true.
And I played along with this game for a bit. Maybe I was willing to let myself be set up with a friend's boyfriend's best friend. Maybe I got a little excited because your cousin sounded great. Maybe I spent some time with a guy that I didn't really think was all that great because I wanted some company.
I'm done. The last couple of months have been lovely. I like being single. I do not care if the entire year of 2010 passes and I do not lock eyes with some guy over a flickering candle and Chicken Parmesan. I find it offensive when someone calls me "recommendable". You recommend restaurants. Movies. Your favorite ice cream. A person is not recommendable. I attend weddings and other functions alone because I'm not interested in baby-sitting. I'm so used to being the extra wheel that I can literally wrap up an entire evening spent with a "group" and not realize until I'm home that I was with four couples.
I'm pretty sure this bothers other people much more than it bothers me.
Let me spout off a few reasons I love being single:
- When my house is filled with ladies next week Saturday for girls' night, I don't have to kick anyone out.
- In the next week I have three dinner dates! Two are with girlfriends of mine and one is with a girlfriend and her husband. I like this. I like that there are so many people in my life that I dine with regularly and I don't know if I would do this if I was someone's girlfriend.
- If I want something, it's totally on me to make it happen.
- This is silly, but I like that I can keep the thermostat at the desired temperature and don't have to consult with another on grocery shopping.
This should not be misconstrued- I don't have a bitter perspective from being jaded in the past. I'm also willing to date, but I'm certainly not going to date just to date.
Perhaps if I was even mildly impressed with the fishies in my sea, I would have a different attitude. But the fact of the matter is- the water I'm swimming in is not glistening with great men. Plus, the longer I am single the more I get to know...me.
So. Single. Satisfied.
It should not be a personal mission of anyone to "hook me up" which is what often happens to the single woman. If I decide to date it will be because I met a really great guy and am excited to get to know someone, share me and grow. And, just a hunch, but I'm guessing it's not your mom's neighbor.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
My little boy is growing up.
You don't necessarily notice it when you see them every single day. Even just an absence of a couple days causes me to caress his silky hay-colored hair longer and hug him that much tighter. He always looks just a tad more self-sufficient if I've embarked on a mini-trip with friends and he's spent his weekend playing Go Fish and Slap Happy with Grandma.
Then there are the undeniable milestones, however small, that unexpectedly get you.
On Friday night I prepared dinner for us. A sandwich, applesauce, fruit and corn on the cob- one of Aidan's favorites. He excitedly bit down into the corn on the cob. And subsequently burst into tears. His reaction was so startling that I'm sure I just stared at him as lengthy seconds ticked by. Finally, I snapped to.
"Honey! What's wrong?"
"My, my, my...." He trailed off as fresh, salty tears cascaded down his little cheeks.
"What happened?" I asked again, a little more frantic this time.
"My tooth!" He gasped out.
Then he spoke again. "It's all wiggly!"
His first loose tooth. He had mentioned something the night before, but as he pointed from one side of his mouth to the other in his complaint, I hadn't paid much attention. And, of course, millions of mothers have had this moment, so my moment is not unique.
But I can't believe that sometime in the very near future he'll have a little hole in his mouth and I'll be playing Tooth Fairy.
The good news is, he says he'll eat steak and fish when he has big chompers. His words exactly.