Single Moms’ Club
Dear Single Mother,
I know you work your ass off all year maintaining your household. I know you wake up at the crack of dawn to fleek your eyebrows, wing your top liner, extend those lashes and make sure your lips are popping. I know you stayed up a little later trying to piece together the perfect outfit from the same recycled clothes in your closet. But no matter how many times you’ve worn that button-down shirt and that classic black blazer, you make it your business to feel like money.
Dear Single Mother,
I know you wake your babies up, one at a time, to get them ready for school. You get the oldest woke first because he’s independent. You tell him to be mommy’s big boy and he walks to the potty, still half asleep. He brushes his teeth and waits for you to wash his face. I know he complains about you hurting his ears because you’re speed brushing his hair. I know how frustrated you get trying to put lotion on his face because he just has to express his discomfort every morning. I know how fast you can change diapers, wash faces and completely dress your youngest baby down to his socks and shoes while he’s still counting sheep. You got skills, mama.
Dear Single Mother,
I know today isn’t your day and the last thing you want to deal with is the catty females in the office who swear they can relate to your #single chronicles but one of them is married and the other has all the parenting advice with her no-kids-having-ass . I know you don’t have the energy to curve the dogs that work in your building, who don’t even bother to ask you how your day is going but instead remind you his drink-after-work invite is still available. Take a deep breath, it’s almost over.
Dear Single Mother,
I know your job is one of the toughest and rugged and not many can handle it but you do it with ease. I know your knees buckle more times than your pride cares to admit from the weight on your shoulders. And you refuse to go to the doctor because you feel you have to move at top speed and you don’t need no quack giving you grief. I know you feel the loneliest at night when your mind won’t let you sleep because you get so caught up in daydreaming about better days. Keep dreamin’, baby girl.
Dear Single Mother,
I know you feel a sting in your heart when you look at the sleeping faces of your biggest blessings because they’re struggling with you but I promise they won’t remember. And you dread the day when they’ll be old enough to ask you questions about the mystery man out of fear that their image of you will be tainted. And you spend most of your bathroom breaks, eyes filled with tears because you want to give in and give up physically and emotionally but that little knock on the door and the tiny voice on the other side rush you to pull yourself together. You can bend a little but you’ll never break.
Dear Single Mother,
I know you’re tired of the empty nights and early mornings and you are ready to exhale. I know you’re impatiently waiting to feel the breeze in your hair and the sun kissing your skin. Looking around you and seeing others lounging in success, trying to figure out when you’ll cross the finish line. But you can’t rush perfection. For your path has been intricately designed for your size eight. Only you can win your race.