What I MEANT Was...

Last night I heard the most shocking statement.

It wasn't the statement so much as who made the statement. It was me. And the statement was: "I wish I had a husband."

Whoa. Context, please.

It was just one of those days. One of those days where I threw myself into my work all day and wanted nothing more than to slip into a drama and activity-free night with the girls. A day where I spent my last few driving moments thinking about my pajamas. And, naturally, this means I was then met with truckloads of drama.

Dramatic moment number one concerned the after school program (ASP) teacher's report on Third Grader. Third Grader bit Fifth Grader. That's right. She bit her sister. Fifth Grader displayed for me the telltale semi-circle bite mark on her hand. I cannot recreate the details of the events leading up to the bite because I wasn't really listening. I was too busy trying to deflect the glare radiating from Fifth Grader's eyes that said "I do hope you are going to punish her for this."

Fifth Grader frequently complains that I do not practice equal opportunity punishment. For instance, when she whacks her sister in the head, she gets punished. When Third Grader does the hitting, no punishment. This is the World According to Fifth Grader. My response? Scenario two doesn't happen. Third Grader doesn't have an aggressive bone in her little body. On the rare occasion that Scenario two does occur, I can only conclude that her sister must have really ticked her off to warrant being belted. This, says Fifth Grader, is unfair. And here before me was her golden opportunity to prove her point.

But Fifth Grader then did herself a giant disservice by immediately creating Dramatic Moment Number Two: a massive tween meltdown, in front of everyone, about how I never let her do anything that all her friends get to do. I think what she meant to say was this:

"Mother, you know how we have that Winter Enrichment program in January? The one where we have to pick an activity for Wednesday afternoons? You know how today was the deadline for picking snowboarding, and we talked about how expensive that would be and I decided to pick something else? Well, I've had second thoughts, and they are giving me one extra day to discuss it with you again. Can we please reconsider?"

What she actually did was something like this:

(Yanks bitten hand from my view and pulls me away from teacher) "MOM! I forgot I asked S to sign up for snowboarding with me and she did but I didn't and plus ALL of my other friends signed up! (Face rapidly turning red, tears flowing) And now I'm the only one not going just because you said I CAN'T! How come everyone else can afford it and we CAN'T? I want to go too, they gave me another form today and said bring it in TOMORROW! If I can't go it's NOT FAIR!"

As you can surmise, the rest of my evening was enormously unpleasant. We had quite a heated "discussion," if you want to call it that. About not embarrassing me in public like that ever again. About how our initial snowboarding discussion actually went - which did not include the word "can't" - and about the fact that none of her friends' families are in possession of a money tree, either, but have to make choices like everyone else, including us. It eventually concluded - with hugs and restored respectfulness, and my promise that I would sleep on the whole issue.

I called my friend D to vent about the whole ordeal, and in doing so expressed my frustrations at facing these decisions alone. Hence, my "husband" statement. My choice to get divorced, I know - but that does not make the actual moments like these any less overwhelming. Do I punish? How do I punish? Am I depriving her? Am I spoiling her? Where's the line? Where are any of the lines? Not that having an active partner would magically produce all the answers, of course, but you know. Strength in numbers. Good cop/Bad cop. "Ask your father." All those options a single mom doesn't have. That's all I'm saying.

I did address the biting incident, by the way. It was as I suspected - an unseen first blow by Fifth Grader, which she admitted to. Reciprocal apologies and hugs, and stern words delivered on the wrongness of using our hands (and mouths) for violence. That pretty much tapped me out for the night. The snowboarding paperwork didn't get completed.

Until this morning.