Maternal Me Vs. Sexual Sue: Dating As A Single Mom
By Sue Sanders posted
The designated night, I nervously gnawed on a fingernail, waiting for the doorbell to ring, convinced I was making a mistake. When it did, Elizabeth raced to the door, flung it open and then hid. Jeff, in a magician-like move, pulled a stuffed rabbit from behind his back. Elizabeth grabbed it and ran into her room, emerging in a Pink tulle skirt. She started dancing to a Tschaikovsky CD and, as she whirled and twirled, I studied Jeff's profile. He was enthralled—and extremely patient—as the dance went on and on.
After dinner at a neighborhood pizzeria/de facto indoor playground (Jeff's trial by coal-fired oven), we returned to my apartment. While I helped Elizabeth into her footed pajamas, Jeff busied himself with the CD player. She padded into the living room, demanding a story. Jeff volunteered. I hovered nearby as he read. Funny voices flew out of his mouth, shrieks of delight out of hers. I relaxed a bit but watched intently. I couldn't help but notice that she seemed so happy. She had not seen her father since we separated, but even when he was living with us, he'd never been playful the way Jeff was. Still, it was impossibly early, and I was scared I'd done the wrong thing, putting my wants before her needs. After storytime I tucked her in, kissing her. She snuggled under her comforter and quickly fell asleep, contentedly, arms akimbo, one hand clutching her new rabbit's ears. How To Minimize Kids' Anxiety During A Divorce
The original plan was that Jeff would meet Elizabeth, have dinner and go home. But that's not what happened. I wanted him to stay—it was like we'd spontaneously combust if he left. We stayed up late, whispering quietly about his past, my past and our future. Exhausted, it was early morning before we fell asleep, entwined.
"Mommy?" Uh oh. Jeff was supposed to have left, but he was still next to me—I'd forgotten to set the alarm. I felt my stomach contract. I was a bad mom.
"Morning, sweetie pie," I said, crawling out of bed and pulling a robe over my nightgown.
"Daddy used to sleep there," she said, pointing to where Jeff was sitting up, suddenly wide awake. She said it simply, a fact like the sun is yellow or snow is cold. There was no judgment in her voice. although the jury in my mind had already condemned me as an irresponsible mom.
