The Economy of Women

Women are amazing creatures.  Forget "Men are from Mars".  Women are so very different from men.  Well, most women are so different from men.  Women are a versatile, kind, compassionate, sharing group of beings.  Like I said, most  women fit into this category.

We have this...this thing that we do.  A way we are.  A way we behave.  I call it the Economy of Women.

The Economy of Men goes back to the founding of, well, of whatever we are.  You need a goat?  No problem, Caveman Joe.  I will give you a goat.  It is worth 6 black rocks and 2 sticks.  Caveman Joe gives the rocks and sticks and takes the goat.  Even Steven.  You need a house?  Pay me $190,000 because that is what it is worth.

Women, I have observed, have an economy all different.  You need some bread?  Here, have some bread.  And jam.  Butter too.  You can't pay me for it?  No problem.  When I need something you can help me out then.

My neighborhood is not the most wealthy.  In fact, most of the residents there live on government subsidies or live on very little.  One of my new-found friends has a daughter who is severely physically and mentally challenged due to birth issues.   She is in a wheelchair and is an amazing young woman. My friend devotes her life to her daughter, but has next to nothing in the way of wealth.

We were at a meeting for church when she announced that her handicapped daughter, who is sixteen, had been asked to the Homecoming Dance by a huge hunk at her high school.  While we were all excited, my friend shyly smiled that her daughter, yes her daughter, was going to be happy and cared about for one night.  Then I realized that this woman, who is barely getting by, was responsible for getting a dance dress, jewelry, etc. of which she has none and no possible way of providing them.

The other women realized it, too.  And I watched as the Economy of Women was set into motion silently and with as much grace and compassion as I have ever seen.  It was done in such a way as to keep my friend's pride in tact.  The following statements were made by the 8 or 9 women sitting around a table.

"Oh!  Take my new camera so the colors of her dress really pop!" said woman number 1.

"She doesn't have a dress, yet.  I am not sure what she will choose." said my friend.

"I have the most beautiful black velvet with rhinestones along the color.  It would fit her, I bet." said woman number 2.

"If she is wearing black, let me make her boutonnière.  I have all those Fire and Ice roses that I won't get to using.  They would be perfect in contrast."  said woman number 3.

"Do you have someone to do her hair and makeup?" said woman number 4.

"I was going to take her to Great Clips.  I don't know how good they are but..." said my friend.

"No, No! Bring her to my salon.  It would be amazing!  Drop her off at, say, 10am?" said woman number 4.

And on and on it went.  

Dress. 

Shoes.

Jewelry.

Acrylic Nails.

Transportation in a fancy limo with wheelchair access.

More fancy pictures.

As we sat around talking about the amazing night this Saturday would be, I realized that these women didn't want to play dressup with someone's child.  They were helping this woman do something for her daughter that she couldn't do herself.  My friend was a big gooey ball of appreciation and relief.  Her daughter would look great, be pampered, and would be the belle of the ball.

Not a penny expected in return.  And our hearts were allowed to grow by talking and sharing and sacrificing just a little bit for the greater good.

So, on Saturday, she will wear my dress.  She will have shoes by someone else, hair by yet another friend, and so on.

The Economy of Women, through years and years of "evolution" and "modernization" can not be defeated.  We are here to bring balance to an ever-more financial world.

And we expect nothing in return.

Guilt

 I have guilt.

There are some things that I can not have happen during my day.  I will fall into a guilt-ridden pool of shame behind my desk if I am reminded of my little man playing elsewhere without me there.  When I drop of Mister (my son...) to the babysitters, it is about 6am.  He is always asleep and snuggles into the babysitter when we make the arm-to-arm transition.  There are many mornings that she will take him back in to snooze with her until her family needs to be awake.

It's okay.  Don't think about it.  Start your car.  Drive to work.

During the day I am so busy, I rarely have an issue with missing my son because I have no time.  Then, something will happen and I will miss him so much more and race home after work to hug him.  This morning on the way to work, my normal morning show was not delivering, so I channel surfed.  I heard just a phrase of Phil Collins' "You'll Be in My Heart."

My day is ruined.  At least until 2pm when I can ditch this place and head back to my boy.

How do we do what we do?

My family growing up consisted of eight children and a single mother.  She was not always single, but after many years of marriage and many children, my parents could not stay together.  The why's and how's are all greatly debated in my family, but both parents are no longer with us, so we have stopped the argument.  Suffice it to say that my mother raised us alone.

She was an amazing woman and many people asked her how she raised such a family who are all college-educated, law-abiding citizens.  Her answer was always the same, "What is the alternative?"

So, I ask the single mothers around the world, how do we do it?  How do we survive on little or no sleep, scrape mashed potatoes from every surface within dinner distance, and change a "sauced" diaper, but find time to read to our little monkeys, bathe them, and connect with the very little souls that we fell in love with when we held them in that hospital bed for the first time?  How do we teach them manners, but instill in them the sense of independence?  How do we keep our tempers, see our hands and faces age, sacrifice so much, and love it?

The answer might be the same as the one given by my mother years ago, "What is the alternative?"

The persistence of knowing or hoping that our children will be more than we could ever be keeps us going - keeps me going, anyway.  I want my son to eat better, study harder, and laugh louder than I ever did.

Because, what is the alternative?

Before there was "Us"... there was "Me"

I am a mother of a 14-month old, demonstrative, energetic child.  That is fact, not opinion.  Also a fact:  my son is the most stubborn, intelligent, beautiful, and loving child I have ever known.  But, I digress.  I have another lovely blog devoted to my son, his antics, and his darling mug splashed throughout.

I am also a single mother.

Someone once told me "Remember when you are in a relationship, you were a 'me' before you were an 'us'." Several romantic relationships have come, all have eventually gone.  The men I have dated are not bad men, with the exception of one or two that I am sure are not as bad as I make them out to be, but lives and opinions can only be so different before you say goodbye.  Never mind what the differences are, just know that they were not what would have made either of us happy long-term.

I chose this life of single-parenthood, paid good money for it, in fact when I chose, at the ripe old age of thirty, to have in vitro fertilization treatments.  The process of this is not as glamorous as it seems in the movies, but I was blessed to have success after only the first treatment.  The results of expensive fertilization treatment, long issue-ridden pregnancy, and near death delivery are my beautiful son and the immediate plunge into the nebulous void that is the term "single parent".   My only divergence from the 'normal' meaning of this term is the journey I took to get here.  There was no loving conception, no breakup, no ex.  I had a wonderful doctor and his wonderful team who entered room, finished a procedure, wished me good luck.  I was able to see a Fertility Psychiatrist (something that is common for single women wanting a family), and a gentleman who had the misfortune of having the title of Head of Sperm.  I looked through a catalog... several in fact... to choose the lucky vial that would be the father of my child.  

Apart from the journey, I am the same.  I am Single Mom.  No, I don't receive child support each month, but I also do not have custody battles.  The trade-off is worth it to me.

But before there was "us", there was "me". Sometimes, during the last fourteen months, I have forgotten who that is.  For the single moms of the world, we all forget.  No, wait.  For all the moms, not just the single ones, we may forget.

Who were you?  

Who are you?  

Who do you want to be?  

If you could describe yourself in one word, what would it be?  Is it a term that is positive or negative to you?

Who were you?   

Independent

Who are you?  

Playful

Who do you want to be?  

Warm

One word:  Mama. 

And I love it.  I love it so very much.