I’m taking a break. A coffee break, actually, even though I normally don’t allow myself the pleasure of drinking coffee in the middle of the day. But that new craptacular coffee maker was calling my name after I put the lunch dishes away and I decided to put a pot on. I don’t allow myself coffee except in the morning and very rarely, in the evenings (I’m one of those freaks who doesn’t get affected by coffee at night because I have such a high caffeine tolerance. Oh shit, I hope my holistic nutritionist, also known as my sister isn’t reading this!) because, quite frankly, if I let myself, I would drink nothing but coffee all day, every day and we all know that’s not a good thing.

So, why the coffee this afternoon?

I deserve it, motherfucker.

I almost posted this morning. I was going to call it, “Single Mother of All Seasons”. But I didn’t have time. It’s been a whirlwind of a fucking day and while the hours are passing rapidly, it ain’t over yet.

My day started with Michael playing with my alarm clock in my room. I thought it was the actual alarm going off but he was just pounding the buttons and made the sound. It was a full hour earlier than I needed to be up. He had also made quick work of the telephone. I think he called China, but I can’t be quite sure. And he piddled on the floor, just for good measure. He’s figured out how to take his diaper off. He seems to enjoy the sensation of his peeny flapping au naturel. But then, what male doesn’t?

I know you’re probably wondering how little Michael made it into my room at just past five thirty in the morning. I did the first time it happened, too. Two words: his sisters. They take him out of his crib in the morning instead of waking me up if I don’t hear him. They think they’re being nice by letting me sleep. At least their hearts are in the right place. Now if they could just keep their brother in his, we’d be set.

So, after I cleaned up the piddle and turned off the alarm and re-set the clock and hung up the phone, I peeked outside to find everything covered in a thick, wet blanket of snow. I knew they were calling for snow last night and when I went to bed, I looked outside and saw it falling. But it still came as a shock this morning because there was just so damn much of it. And because I’m over the age of ten, when I see snow, I don’t think of happy play time activities. I think of shovelling.

I started while we waited for the bus. I got about one eighth of it done. As soon as I got Michael down for his morning nap, I went back out. An hour and a half later and I was almost finished. I just need to do some touching up while I wait for the afternoon bus at the end of the driveway (where the snow is heaviest and the job is most awful because of the road snow that the plow pushes onto my driveway. To clear the end enough for a car to pass through, I actually have to stand on the highway and push with all of my might on the shovel to get the snow onto the driveway where I can chip away at it and push it off to the side) and then I need to shovel the front walkway to the front door and the stairs leading up to the door. It’s the easiest way to get into the house for Don so even though I normally leave it all winter and just use the side door, this year I have to keep up on it.

I won’t lie. While I was shovelling, I felt a little badly for myself. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I just felt really alone. I pushed and I heaved and I watched my neighbours with their snow blowers. I pushed and I heaved and I watched snow plows attached to the front ends of trucks pass by. I found myself wishing that I knew someone with a snow blower or a plow.

And then I remembered that I do.

My soon-to-be-ex-father-in-law has a plow on the front of his truck.

So does my soon-to-be-ex-step-father-in-law.

Obviously, those two options are out.

Rock’s friend, Lionel, has a plow, too. He used to come by and dig us out in really bad weather.

Obviously, that’s out, too.

My Dad has a snow blower, but like most of his offers of help (ie. Putting in a new door for the kitchen, buying said door, splitting the huge chunks of wood, cutting up some kindling, not to mention rug rat sitting so that I could have a fucking Pap Smear without a baby crawling on my face at the same time), this one didn’t pan out, either.

And so while I was shovelling my not so little behind off, I thought, “this is single motherhood at it’s finest”. And we have a lot of winter left to go.

And now it’s snowing again.

November has been a crazy, up and down kind of month that has at some times, zoomed past. December’s pace will only quicken.

I have tried to stay off of the computer and when I’ve been on, checking for e-mails from my boy who is sick again (I’m thinking I will have to spend my first weekend completely alone this coming weekend, despite our plans to spend American Thanksgiving together in Canada because he’s sick and needs rest and my house is lots of things, but restful, it ain’t…but I’m not going into that because I’ll just want to cry), I’ve tried to be fast so that I can keep the blasted phone line clear.

It hasn’t worked. Which has meant that my voice mail has been fuller than I think it’s ever been. The messages from various doctors and clinics and centres are pouring in and my calendar is filling up just as quickly.

Regular doctor’s appointment for Michael with the family doctor who is forty minutes away on the fifth to finally get completely caught up with immunizations and get his testicle checked out (don’t ask, please for the love of Dog, just don’t ask) and go over the recent visits to the children’s hospital.

Then we have our first assessment appointment with the speech pathologist the following Monday. Thankfully, that’s in Janet Land. The office, which is within a group of offices called the CCAC, is actually located in the mall which works out well. Tim Horton’s!

We have a visit from M, with infant development this afternoon. And we’ll need to see her at least once more, if not twice, before the Christmas holidays start. We have a lot to go over today and with speech coming up, we’ll have that much more to go over next time.

Why do I keep saying “we”?! It’s just me, after all!

I got a notice in the mail yesterday from the children’s hospital. * I * need to take Michael for another hearing test.

I have to call the children’s hospital to book another appointment with ophthalmology. That appointment alone takes over an hour to complete and it’s terrible for the little ones as it involves unpleasant drops and lots of having their eyes held open. Anybody want to explain hateful, high strung, diva-ish Michael why he has to sit still through that one?!

And then it’s another appointment with physiotherapy. And probably another fight with the Weirdo.

And so on and so on and so on.

Add in the exercises for Michael and the stretches plus whatever speech exercises I’ll learn to do with him come December and I’m tired just thinking about it all. Never mind fitting Christmas in there, too.

I could feel overwhelmed. I can feel it starting in the pit of my stomach. The shovelling and the voice mails seemed to go hand in hand during my journey through single motherhood today.

I could feel overwhelmed.

If I let myself.

Just like that pot of coffee, I’m taking this one cup at a time.

And just as Mother Mary has been on my mind, she stands behind my right shoulder.

Alone on her journey to birth her son (don’t bother with the Christian lecturing, okay? I know the story already…I prefer this one…and it would be a bad idea to get me going on the story of Christ this afternoon and if you make me, then fuck you, I’m having another cup of fucking coffee!), relying only on herself and the kindness of strangers, she teaches me to move through this with grace and strength.

“Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.”

I can do this, because I have to do this.

Let it be.