My love/hate relationship with single parenthood

Sometimes, being a single parent really sucks.

I know this isn't news to some of you, but for  me, this is a constant slap upside my head.  How much of it is because the Demie Diva is figuring out what a LONG time it is between grandparent visits, I don't know.  How much is because her relationship with her father is what we might kindly call ambivalent, I don't know.  How much is because we're titrating down one of her epilepsy drugs right now (the one I said was Satan incarnate) I don't know.

That's the part of single parenthood that, to be honest, is the hardest.  Oh, not the not knowing.  That's part of any parenting endeavor.  No, the not knowing on my own.  Being the only set of eyes on the child when she's behaving oddly idiosyncratically is darn difficult.  Being the only set of arms that goes around her when she's sad (which she seems to be a lot these days) is hard.  Being the only set of feet that hit the floor when she hollers for "MOMMY" at oh-dark-hundred....yeah, you got it.  It's hard.

She's taken me on a journey this week that I swear I never thought we'd go.  The Demie Diva and her Mommy are going to the child psychologist.  She needs it.  I need for her to have coping skills that are more than sobs and being sad.  I need for her to feel secure enough away from me that going to school isn't a major exercise in drama and tears every day.  I need for someone else to bloody well figure out what I'm supposed to do with a child who is WAY up in some aspects of her life, and WAY behind in others.  I don't think she's on the spectrum.  Although, what the heck, that'd be hilariously ironic given my life's history.  Actually, if I'm going to be honest, I hope like fury that she's not on the spectrum, cause my baby has enough crap to deal with already.

That said, I don't have to share the magic and wonder.  She's so excited when I come to get her.  Her little face is so sweet in repose, and I get to see it 99% of the time.  Those arms go around my neck, and hold on and she is my baby again, nestled in my neck.  When she learns something new, like dialing Diva Grandparents' phone number, it's exciting beyond all recognition.  I get to make cookies with her, and let her use the egg beater on the waffle batter, and watch her insist that SHE will pour the cereal by all herself.

How on earth did I get so lucky?