I am a member of an association I didn’t want to join. A card carrying crazy haired mummy in tracksuit pants, wearing bare feet, I am doing single motherhood the feral way. According to studies, single motherhood is not a pathway to physical nor mental wellness, more like emotional chaos.
My family was way ahead of the trend when it comes to single mothering. My paternal grandmother and my maternal great grandmother were both single mothers way before it became fashionable. When I am exhausted I think of my dad’s mother raising two children on her own in the 1930s and 40s, a time when single parenting was not chic. She couldn’t open a bank account nor get a loan because she had no husband.
My mission is to share the joys of single parenting. I don’t mind being single, it’s the single parenting I struggle with. My friends tell me I should be looking for the next man I’m going to break up with, but right now I think it is
Better to be alone than in bad company
I don’t want to be a single mum cougar, ogling young men on a Saturday night. Young men who are emotionally living on another planet. And their taste in music is appalling. I don’t want a grandpa either, I’m not that desperate.
But I’m sure I’m not the only single smother who behaves like a debauched old tart when the children stay at their father’s girlfiend’s place.
I don’t like to bash men on my blog, just tenderise them…