Across the street from where I live there is a little house. An older lady lives there with what appears to be her teenage son. I sometimes see a girl but mostly just the mother and son.
The lady is older, probably in her late 40s to 50s, with long white hair. Her son, a bit taller than her, has shoulder length hair. You can tell she's educated, the way she carries herself and how she speaks to the son. She strikes me as a teacher but I could be way off. I always see them together, walking and talking. It seems that wherever she goes he goes too. They have a car, I often see them both getting in one, but they walk to places too. I don't follow them so I don't know where they go other than to the grocery store and she takes him to school.
I've lived here for 4 years so I have been silently observing them for that long. When we first moved in he was shorter than her and sometimes seemed upset at having to go places. But over time he has changed and seems to be always listening intently to her. I've never caught more than a word or two since I've only been close enough to hear them when passing them walking down the street. But he listens and has a face of concentration and you can just *feel* the love between them. It's quite sweet.
I've never seen a man or any other adult, I conclude that she is a single mother.
I see their relationship, though it's a very small part that I see, and part of me wishes I could have that with Nicholas. That we could both grow and learn together and become a tight knit mother/son pair. Having been a single parent for 7 years now, there is something special about the bond. You don't share, all the decisions are yours and therefore you just roll with your decisions and don't look back. Mistakes are made and you learn and you move on. You work towards your vision and no one steps in or detracts. They seem so close and that kind of closeness is difficult when you have to share the kid. The "us two against the world" way of life has it's definite appeals.
I could never have that with Nicholas. Not because I am married and we are both parents to him. Even if I would have remained single I couldn't have that with him. The truth is I can't handle him, I can't handle being a single parent. I have tried for 7 years and it's like watching someone trip and do everything they can to keep from falling but you know they will hit the ground despite their best efforts. This is too difficult for me and my sanity is long gone. Every day has turned more into simple survival and role play.
I don't feel like a parent. It feels like I have this rowdy roommate that won't do shit unless I tell him to. If someone kept track of how long I take in the bathroom they'd probably suggest I take some extra fiber. The truth is I'm hiding. I'm taking the only time I have to feel human and I just sit there and stare at the wall and wonder what on earth is going on. It's a constant, non stop, bombardment of words that make no sense, sounds, noises, whining, screaming, crying, and touching. There is little peace while he is awake. Even in the bathroom I hear him outside the door waiting for me. He needs me. Even though I was sitting out there with him for who knows how long and he didn't tell me he needed me. He remembered he needed me when I was in my one and only sanctuary. So even that gets disrupted with "are you done yet?" and his never ending talking right outside the door.
I can't do this single parent thing. I've failed. He's fed and clothed and housed and whatnot but I'm about ready to sign myself in to a mental institution. I feel crazy. I am frustrated and tired.
So many times I just want to go and take a walk around the block, alone. I know that is all I need to recharge, some fresh air and some time to myself. But I can't do that. Even though at his age my mother would leave me to run to the corner store to get some last minute item, I know that I cannot do that. Aside from the legal issue of leaving a 7 year old alone at home, I cannot trust him. I'm not sure if it's the 7 year old, the autism, or a combination, but he still gets crazy ideas that I must catch and stop before they get very far. Like wanting to tie a bandage wrap around the top of his loft bed and his neck because he is a puppy being tied to a pole. Yes, I had to make him unwrap the bandage wrap he had wrapped around his neck. So I'm stuck.
By the time he is in bed and asleep I am too tired to even think. Feeling rested, I can't remember what that is like. I have not felt rested in so long. I'm always tired and sleepy and waiting for bedtime. The things I once enjoyed I cannot do in peace. I am drained.
I can never be a single parent. Or at least not to Nicholas. I know so many have done it and succeeded and I envy them all. Because even though I love my wife and I did not marry her for the purpose of having a second parent, I hate the fact that I know I have failed and *need* her to help me. I hate that I could never have had the kind of relationship my neighbour has. I should have been able to do this on my own.
As I begin the transition of being a single parent to co-parenting I am filled with hope of a little alleviation. I have hope for a return of some sanity. I hope for being able to walk away when I need a moment. I hope for a shoulder to cry on when I am frustrated and loving arms to hug me when I feel like everything is going wrong. As I begin to let go of some of the responsibility, which is harder than I thought, I hope for help in carrying the weight of raising this little person that is not quite right.
I see the lady with the long grey hair and her son with much envy. And I wish them the best. They made it.
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