putting the kids to sleep and it's taking forever. They are masters at the art of procrastination. When they've run out of the obvious stuff—ice, bathroom, snack runs, one more book—they go for the jugular with another round of kisses, hugs and tuck in demands. During this last concession, I offer half-ass hugs and a lame tuck in because I'm exhausted.
kids start drilling me with variations of this question:
Skilled in the fine art of
deflection, I side-step it with one-line zingers.
AJ," I tell my son, "I'm already married to you!"
you're not." He's smart for a 5-year-old.
about to walk out when Aria insists she has something to tell me.
pulls me in. "Mommy, are you going to end up alone, like Nana, with two porcelain
dogs and butterscotch hard candy?"
Lonely? If (my daughter) only knew how much I cherish my alone time.
blown away, as usual, by her attention to detail and dry delivery. Butterscotch?
wow, you remember Nana's butterscotch candy?"
This is part of my
avoidance ruse. "That is so funny. I have to write this down now!" I start typing
this dialogue into my phone so I don't forget it. Hopefully she will.
"Well, are you?"
baby, Nana is 83."
Aria goes, "You'll be that soon."
"You want me to marry Manboy X so I'm not alone?"
I worry about you when I'm at my dad's. I think you're all alone and I get so
sad for you." She's crying now.
"I think about how lonely you are and it makes me so sad."
mind is spinning. First, is she faking these tears? Then ... lonely? If she only knew how much I cherish my alone time.
baby, I'm not lonely at all, in fact I never get lonely. I love being alone!
Also, that's not a reason to get married."
mom, no one likes to be alone." She retorts.
creep down the hall, into my room and hop into bed, my oasis of solitude. I arrogantly spread out diagonally across the king size bed and relax into my portal to
autonomy with my laptop, books and magazines.
My stuff. My bed. Solitude. Heaven.
You don't get this in marriage. You don't get nights alone in your
bed to just be with you. Marriage and live-in partners mean the constant sharing of space and energy. And
after years of it, four long-term live-in relationships (if you count my starter marriage at 23 that I mostly did to piss off my parents), two which procured children, two which ended in divorce, that's a lot of nights getting into bed angry, rolling away from one another, listening to the breath, snores, teeth grinding, nightmares and farts (men fart A LOT) of someone you just had a fight with. And I want none of it.
being alone. And I have carved a relationship with Manboy X where
I can be alone and he's cool with it. We are together, sometimes. And we are always alone at nights. The most obvious reason is I don't want my kids experiencing a man in my bed. Ever. I don't want them to think a man in my bed is a norm, that it's a goal or a necessity, that we have to have a partner to be whole. When it ends (they always do) the loss of it will be another experience of loss for them. They've had enough of that with their dads moving out.
The only humans I want to wake up to are my kids. Nuzzling into the back of a head of hair, inhaling their skin, spooning them tight and double morning cuddles with both is inexplicable.
I like things how they are. Mom doesn't need to share a bed to be complete. Mom is whole on her own. This is what works for me.
The only humans I want to wake up to are my kids. Nuzzling into the back of a head of hair, inhaling their skin, spooning them tight and double morning cuddles with both is inexplicable. It's primal. I am a mama bear with my cubs. Everything
else pales to it. They are my true loves—my only loves. It's probably screwing up my capacity for a deep, loving adult relationship, but I am 100 percent fulfilled with my love for them. There is no room for anyone else, no desire. At least, a year and a half out of divorce, not yet.
do I tell my kids that for me, marriage holds no interest, that I love my alone
time, my space and autonomy? How do I share that the thought of sharing a bed with
one person for a night, let alone the rest of my life, is not something that appeals to me?
When they ask about marriage, how
do I tell them marriage is not the antidote to loneliness? I was never lonelier
than when I was married. I believe in long-term
commitment and monogamy. But I don't believe in contracts and the signing of names on papers.
have to be careful not to shape their views and I try to stay ambiguous about it. I am terrified that for them unmarried means a lacking of something. Un-something. Un-whole. Unhappy. I'll try to find the words because I don't want them to worry about me. But how do I explain that they are all I need?