It Takes A Village, Seriously.

During my mommy group's monthly gathering yesterday, several of us commented on that old adage "It takes a whole village to raise a child."  That is the God's honest truth.  There is no way to (sanely) raise a child solely on your own.

Your village is not necessarily where you live.  It's your community, your family, your friends, everyone who helps you with the upbringing of your child(ren).  I've become that woman in the store who approaches the parent with the uncontrollable, screaming child, asking if I can help.  Sometimes, I get the look that says "Get the hell away, crazy lady."  But often, I get the look that says "Oh yes, thank God!"  We've all been there.  There are days where your child simply will not listen to reason and especially not to you.  But when Grandma, or Auntie, or Crazy Lady steps in, the kid simmers right down.  That's your village.

As a newly single mother, I'm still figuring out this solo babyraising business.  I hardly had time to figure it out as a co-parent, before I was thrust into doing it all on my own.  It is every bit as hard as other single parents claim.  Harder, actually.  In the last two months, I've had more bad days than good.  The good days are very good, but the bad days are soul-crushing.  I'm only being the slightest bit dramatic.  I often drop my head in both my hands and cry.  Fortunately, my parents have been extremely involved with taking care of both of us.  My sister-in-law has become a second mother to my Babydoll, and both of my brothers happily (and easily) fill the father-figure role.  My friends... oh, man.  I'd be lost without them.

Everyone needs a village, and not just for raising children.  Life is hard.  At times, it's so hard that it's ridiculous.  You need people on whom you can rely to pick you up when life has knocked you down.  Someone to call at 2 am who will answer their phone.  Someone to bring you a bottle of wine or a box of cupcakes.  And you definitely need someone who doesn't make you feel like a whiny crybaby when you unload all of your problems on them.  I have lots of those someones.  I'm a lucky girl.

The Widow's Lament

I'm gonna bitch for a minute, about some random shit that's been on my mind ("it's my blog and I can do what I want," if you will).  

People say truly comforting, supportive things when you've lost a loved one.  They come out of the woodwork to let you know that you are not alone in your grief, that they are thinking of you and praying for you.  Sympathy cards arrive in the mail, with powerful messages of love.  In your time of need, friends and family come to your aid, sit by your side, and just hold your hand or squeeze your shoulder.  They step in and take care of your child, without being asked, so you can fall apart for a minute or two.

Then, there are those people who say really shitty, insensitive things.  Like what, you ask?

"What did his body look like after he passed?"

I don't know.  You're seriously disturbed.

"Do you think he knew what was happening when he was dying?"

I hope not.  I'd imagine that would really suck.

"Oh, you weren't with him when he died?  That must be hard for you to live with."

Yeah, it pretty much consumes my thoughts every day.  Thanks.

"How much life insurance money will you get?"

None.  Why?  Did he owe you money?

"I don't know if cancer is what really killed him."

I'm pretty sure it was, since he had it all over his body and brain, and cancer's main goal is to kill you.

"He's in a much better place now."

How do you know?  Have you been?

"He'll always be watching over you."

I hope he's not while I'm pooping.

(I know a lot of people think that last one is comforting, but to me, it's creepy.  I don't want to be watched 24/7.  I hope Heaven is not just a big viewing room for "Big Brother: Earth Edition.")

And finally, there are those people who don't know what to say, so they just ignore you.  They won't look you in the face, they'll pass by you in the halls without acknowledgement, they'll whisper about you to another person then stop abruptly when you walk into the room.  That's the worst.  Does losing my partner mean that I'm branded with a scarlet W for the rest of my life?  I don't look good in red.

When someone you know is losing, or has lost, a loved one, the simplest thing to say is generally the best: "I'm sorry and I'm here for you."  That's it.  Trust me, that's all anyone needs to hear.  If you don't hear back from them for a few days, or even a couple weeks, it's okay.  When your husband, or anyone else you love, dies, it's pretty easy to lose track of time.  There are days when the only thing you can focus on is getting out of bed and feeding yourself, and remembering to respond to an email, or phone call, or Facebook message, or text, just isn't priority # 1.  But eventually, you'll catch up.

And you don't have to mope around as a grieving widow, forever in black (with that big scarlet W).  It's perfectly acceptable, wonderful even, to move forward with your life in whatever time frame suits you.  Missing someone doesn't mean you shut down.  Missing them means that you keep living, while a little bit of you, a tiny piece really, will always be looking for their face in a crowd or subconsciously expecting a phone call from them.

The thing about life is, no one gets out alive.  So live it.  And enjoy it while you got it.