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I know, I know....

Long time no see. My apologies. My computer contracted a virus somehow and had to go through some serious treatment, leaving it without any useful software and a complete clean slate of a hard drive.



And everything is gone. My photos, my music, all of my programs that I had (il)legally downloaded...all that. It's hard to get it all back together, and I have yet to start. Because of this, I have resorted to blogging from work, which would appal my mother...



Dylan turned seven two weeks ago. It was a momentous occasion for he and I. It was momentous for him, because he got to go to Six Flags, which he has bothered me about for the last year. It was momentous for me because I'm pretty damn proud I have kept him alive this long. He had an eventful weekend prior to his birthday, which fell on a Tuesday. We went to see Blue Man Group and The Cleveland Indians/Chicago White Sox Game with a dear friend.



On his birthday, I took the day off work (collective gasp) and took him to Six Flags. He was the happiest kid.



Dylan also started the second grade. He has a teacher I've never heard of but he seems to like. His school doesn't do a parent/teacher orientation for some reason (and if they do, I was never made aware of it. Considering they find it necessary to send a note home every time Dylan sharpens his pencil, I assume they would let me know about an opportunity to berate me in person) so I couldn't really tell you what she's like. Not quite yet, anyway.



He is happy because he has some of his old first grade friends in his class. I fear that without that level of familiarity, he would never go to school without kicking and screaming.

I read somewhere that Dylan is at the age where self-esteem really starts developing. This has recently become really important to me. You love your kids so much, you never think they would ever feel anything less than wonderful - because that's how you see them. But, I can see it in him when he starts to feel bad about himself or when he starts to question whether or not he is good enough and it breaks my heart.

Positive reinforcement has become such a big deal to me. Even when an ironic negative spin is put on something, like "psshht...watch us finish this block tower and a huge gust will come through the window!" it affects him. It's sad to watch sometimes, because, although it's not any one's intention, Dylan's feelings get hurt so easily. His self-esteem is so wavering. He is a good kid, a really well behaved kid, especially considering he doesn't have a father-figure. I wish I could sit him down and explain that to him.

Anyway, I have a ton of photos to post, and I will, as soon as I get my computer back in order. These long days are slowly wearing me down.

I always think that at a point things will get easier, they have to. I'm not really sure how, and at times I don't even believe that they will. It's an interesting thing to balance hope when you're a single mom. It's such a negotiation between relief and sacrifice. There are days I just assume it will be just this way forever and I really think I have finally just accepted it as such. There are moments that arise and remind me that there is more than this, that it can be easier.

Those are the days I like the best. The light-at-the-end-of-the-proverbial-tunnel days, where all the hours on my feet and leaned over the tub, and crawling across the living room picking up Lego remnants, and under tables fetching crayons, and at the park chasing footballs and in huge auditoriums echoing Christmas carols, only to go to bed and feel a light saber poke my ass, and wake up 5 hours later to action figure boxers and backpacks and lunch and keys and tied shoes...actually resembles a means to an end...



"If evolution really works, why do mothers only have two hands?" -Milton Berle