Why Many Single Mums Don’t Cry

I wrote this post in May 2014. I never finished it, probably because it was too hard. I read something from one of my readers that made me decide to post it. Sometimes things are so hard or feel so lost that we want to give up. Even if life isn’t that bad, it can feel like it is. I just wanted to share this to my single mum readers. If you’re not a single mum but know someone who is, please share this. If you feel like you have no more options, contact me, and perhaps I can help you think of a solution. Sometimes, just running your problems/thoughts by someone else is all you need to come up with a game plan. I’m always willing to be a sounding board.

We wake up before dawn. Our thoughts riddled with the worries of the day before we even open our eyes. Sometimes, it’s as trivial as worrying whether we’ll have enough time to make coffee before taking the kids to school. Usually, it’s whether we’ll have enough money for food and rent that month. The exhaustion kicks in before we even make it to the restroom. Hunched over on the toilet in the dark, relishing those two minutes of silence and peace before all hell breaks loose. Our backs, minds, and feet hurt. Then we realize we’ve just woken up and there’s no sense in thinking about bedtime just yet.

Checking on the littlest one before heading downstairs, we remember a time when we slept that peacefully. A slumbering bedhead full of hope and joy, with nothing to terminate our dreams but the soothing voice of a loving mother that can’t wait to hold us once again. Those are always the memories we hold dear. Clinging to them like a life raft as we wait to be rescued.

We descend the stairs in angst, wondering what the day will bring us. One step at a time. The minutes will fill the hours, we know. Before we realize, the children are ready. All gleaming from head to toe. We look down at ourselves, grimy but presentable. Grabbing the car keys, we head out the door. On the way to school, the children busy themselves with toys and books as we painstakingly attempt to stretch math into making everything add up so all the bills gets paid. As we calculate in our heads, with no sleep, while driving; for a split second we honestly think we made it work. Until we get home and actually use a calculator. Then we realize we just need to learn to add correctly.

Unsure of how an hour after waking up, the house could look like the remains of a city after a tornado, we crawl around the floor, picking up toys, books, games, and food while the little one tries to jump on our backs to play. We don’t say no because this “game” is probably the closest we’ll get to playing with him today so we let it continue on. Our homes are somewhat recognizable so we sit in front of the computer to get some work done while the baby eats in the high chair next to us. We cradle our breakfast (coffee mug) in our hands as we contemplate the piles of projects that need to be finished ASAP. After half an hour, the baby is done and needs to get out. We give him a bath and realize we need to leave if we’re to get to the babysitter in time for our second job.

Throwing items into the diaper bag and running out the door, we make it just in time to drop the baby off and work a few cherished hours where we spend the entire time thinking that we have a list a mile long of errands to run that we’ll never get to. Getting off work just in time to pick up the oldest from school, we grab the baby and run home to decide what healthy options we have for dinner in an empty fridge because we simply don’t have time for grocery shopping. We throw something together, and while it cooks, we go back to the computer to try to finish the work from our first job. Before we know it, it’s dinner time. Everyone is fed and we forcefully smile as we explain for the millionth time why {insert the same crap as always here}. For us, it’s typically the reason why the oldest should help with chores and responsibility. As we feel ulcers starting to grow inside our tummies, we escape the moaning and complaining for a few quick seconds alone in the bathroom, only to have the door swung open by a grinning baby with aviators and one sock on. {Best way to get interrupted on the toilet by the way}.

Ordering the oldest into the shower and off to bed as we put the baby in pajamas for their bedtime as well, we guiltily can’t wait for the silence that comes once the children are in bed and the dishes are done.

Why don’t we cry you ask? Because we are strong. We don’t give up. We know that even in the hardest or loneliest of times, there’s a silver lining. We know that those precious moments with our children is what keeps us going, and being strong and brave for them is the wisest choice we can make. If we let them see us cry, we’re crushing their beautiful and innocent outlook on life. We see the problems and the anguish, but all they see is a mommy. Someone that loves them no matter what. They see a safe home and a warm bed. They are content with their life because we’re in it. Our children are our world, and we are theirs. Don’t let them see you cry. No child’s shoulders should hold the burden of our problems. And don’t forget how strong you really are, even if you don’t feel like you are. We are resilient and beautiful. We have options. Always.