Single Parenthood

If humidity can melt fats, I’d  be size two by now. If I can link the airconditioner to my metabolism, I’d  be size two by now. Sighs.

I failed my goals today. No mantra, no meditation, no diet, and no running, no scriptures, and I even missed church. My body clock completely went to a halt. But there were good things I did today, too. Sofie made her first cucumber salad. Mikhail told me that I am the prettiest mom ever. He also added during dinnertime  that I am a supermom. At the end of the day, my kids are the only ones that truly matters.  They are even more important than myself. Being a widowed mom is not easy. It’s  a selfless act, even more selfless than being parents. Not that I look down at double parent families, (oh my, how I envy such families!), but in most circumstance, widows never remarry. Dating must be highly considered or the kids will feel unloved. While the parent  is busy with a new love affair, the kids feel inadequate. 

When asked about mommy-dating, my five year  old didn’t  answer. Instead  he asked me this, “Mom, am I not enough?”

He is more than enough to me. The journey is still long and very narrow. It is the road less taken. The path all of us dreads. Am I unlucky? Probably. But a friend of mine assured me that the Lord sees me fit for this task. The Lord knows my strength and He is anxiously waiting and cheering  for me to complete this errand and come home to Him. My task in this mortal life is not to be romantic but to raise His children well. It’s  something that I’m no good at but the hugs and kisses assure me that I’m  doing okay singlehandedly.