Tired

I read a post in my bloglines tonight.  It was written by a single foster/adoptive parent, and described the simple joy of having someone cook dinner for her family for no reason.  Just because.

I think sometimes I feel guilty for talking or even thinking about how hard it is to be a single parent.  Part of it is that it has been my life for so long that I’m mostly used to it.  But sometimes it is overwhelming to bear the entire burden of the household on my own.  When money is tight, I can’t just grit my teeth and eat cold cereal with no milk three times a day for three weeks like I did in college.  There’s this other little person here counting on me to feed him until he’s full, and whether he likes it or acknowledges it or not, to give him the nutrition he needs to grow strong and healthy.

As a single parent who also works from home and homeschools, I don’t get many breaks.  See, I feel guilty for even saying that.  And I feel guilty when I sit on the couch and watch a television show without doing something else at the same time–whether that be checking email or folding laundry, working or scheduling schoolwork.  Sometimes I just want to have someone to lean on.  I don’t get much support when I say anything like this out loud.  Most people take it as a cry for help and want to give suggestions to fix it.  There’s no fixing it.  There’s nothing to fix really.  This is my life and sometimes it is hard–no, it is always hard.  But some days I deal with hard better than others.

I really am happy and thankful for the life that William and I have.  He’s a super, amazing, fun kid, and I love being his parent.  But I live every single day of my life tired.  Every. Day.  I have family who have taken him for a day, and once for a few days, but not because they wanted to give me a break.  It was because they were doing something fun that I didn’t have time to do and I didn’t want William to miss out.  I’m thankful that they include him at times like that.  But still, it was nice to read a blog by a fellow single mom. Because it is hard.  It is not the same as parenting in a marriage.  It is harder.  It just is.  And sometimes I just want people to acknowledge it–not to pity me, or to give me a medal or anything.  I guess mostly to stop making me feel less than when I don’t have everything as together as them.  I probably wouldn’t have everything all together if I were married either, but it would be easier.  I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be as tired.

On my mind

Money.

Money is on my mind.

I think as a single parent, money will continue to be on my mind pretty contintually for the rest of my existence.  But lately I’ve been thinking about it differently–less sorrow at how tight things are, are more determination to tighten the belt further.  Part of that determination comes from a desire to be independent of the child support from X, and part of it comes from a realization that I make things harder on us than they have to be just by being disorganized.  Also there is mixed in there a desire to tighten my literal belt as well.

Groceries are my current pet fiscal reform project.  We don’t really spend that much on groceries a week.  I have $75 budgeted, and we stay pretty close to that in the grocery store.  Eating out is a big pitfall for me.  I don’t really care for my own cooking so much, and there’s no one else to choose from in the house, so eating out it is quite often.  And not nice out.  Drive-thru out.  Which isn’t good for the literal or the metaphorical belt in question.

I’m going out on a limb in the next few months to see what I can do with only $25 a week in grocery money.  What I won’t be able to do is eat out.  So I’m going to have to learn to cook, or learn to approach eating from a less taste-based perspective.  And William’s going to have to expand his palate to include foods not normally eaten at breakfast.  (I could feed him breakfast three times a day for the rest of his life and he would not complain–the boy loves breakfast.  And IHOP.)  I figure at $50/week savings, we can begin to move beyond the place where we are today–praying for a child support check to come through in the mail.

Plus the debt.  I want it gone.

I came back from the Feast with all kinds of determination to make all kinds of changes.  I’m not sure how the changes are coming yet, but the determination is still there.  Upon my return I mapped out a weight loss strategy that involves caring about the numbers.  I’ve previously been operating under the “I work out and watch what I eat.  I’ll let the numbers take care of themselves” philosophy.  But, sadly, the numbers have shown an appaling lack of initiative.  So I’m going to be taking care of them as well from now on.

My plan is simple, and possible neurotic.  But that’s really not that surprising with me.  I’m going to lose .3 pounds each day.  That is well within the healthy rate of weight loss.  Okay, not well within.  It’s pretty much the absolute maximum.  But still.  Healthy.  I figure that wrestlers and such can do this sort of thing, so why can’t I?  And I am going to weigh before I eat.  I can’t swallow anything but water unless I am below my desired weight for the day.  Today was the first day that I had to postpone eating, but I only had to skip tea.  I’m going to take the focus off of exercise because exercising makes me so stinking tired and hungry.  It’s actually kind of counterproductive.  Plus, it seems to make my body feel like it needs to horde fat instead of burning it.  So, I’m afraid to explain my plan to anyone that I know because it sounds like I’m planning on starving myself.  But if I make each goal each day, then it’s only .3 of a pound.  I’m not going to have to go without food for three days or anything to lose that much.  In fact, I doubt I’ll have to go without food at all beyond skipping the odd meal here or there, but more likely, skipping the odd snack.

If I can stick with this for a mere 8 months, I’ll acheive my goal weight.  That’s not that long to stick with something.  But honestly, today was the first day it was actually hard.  Today I had to be hungry and wait 2 hours.

Belt tightening in general is uncomfortable.  Change is uncomfortable.  I have been living a comfortable life for a while now.  But I’m not happy with the results they are producing.  I’m not satisfied with William’s maturity level, or my health, or my homemaking abilities, or my budget.  I’m not satisfied with the state of my bank account.  I’m not satisfied with my level of production in my job, in homeschool, in meals that I actually want to eat, or in the planning and preparation I put into these things.

I want more for myself and for William–not in money and things and such.  We’re drowning in things.  In fruits.  I want more fruits and less clutter–body clutter and house clutter and mind clutter.

I’m determined to change.  But not sure where to start.