This morning I woke up, made breakfast, got a curly haired little girl dressed and sent her to school.
Tomorrow I will do the same.
And the next day.
And the next.
I don’t know any different way to operate.
You hear people talk about solo parents and how they “could never do it” or how “it must be so much harder on your own”. I don’t know if that’s true. I have nothing to compare it to. I have been a solo mom since before my three-and-a-half-year-old was born.
What I do know is that it is my responsibility to raise a beautiful little girl into a happy, well-adjusted woman. No different than what any other parent has to do.
I may sleep less. Have less time with friends. Have more struggles. However, I also get to be the one that shares all the special moments. I get all the “firsts”. Steps, words, successes and heartbreaks.
Today she wants to be a fireman, I will wear the helmet and we will save cats from trees and spray pretend fires with spray bottles. Tomorrow she might want to be an elephant or a doctor or a spoon. I may think elephants smell. I may cringe at the thought of blood. I may be averse to dipping myself into soup but I will be the one that steps up to the plate and encourage her to be whatever she wants to be.
I will play Barbies and dinky cars.
I will make lunches and doctors appointments.
I will braid hair and wipe tears.
I will share bad jokes and words I think are wisdom.
I will teach her to be all that she can be, and all that she dreams she can be.
They say “If you love your job, you will never work a day in your life”. Being a solo parent is the hardest job I’ve ever had, and yet, I haven’t worked a day in her life.