Single

I'm doing the single parenting thing these days.

Not because I'm single or even on the verge of being single, but rather because my husband is about 70 miles away attempting to get our old house ready to be put on the market.

He drives up to see us (and bring the laundry, which is lovely, except he doesn't bother to put it away) every few days.

Some days, he's there when we get up in the morning. Other evenings, he's there when we go to bed.

He always comes up on Thursdays so he can bring Olivia to me for her gymnastics class. But he usually leaves for Huntington before bed because he...well, I'm not sure why, but I am sure he has his reasons.

When we first moved into the house that currently shelters me and the girls on a full-time basis, I had a dream in which Tom was confessing to having had an affair.

In my dream I was hurt, angry and confused as to why he'd do this. I wanted details like how long the affair lasted, where they'd been intimate, how he'd met her, etc.

Near the end of the dream, he said, exasperated, "It was only for seven days. She was a closet-dweller, I took her out every day for a week just to get her out of the closet."

So very, very weird.

I don't actually worry that he's having an affair. At least, I don't on a conscious level.

Before we moved into our new house, the girls and I stayed at my mom's three nights a week.

Wow, was it helpful to have another adult around every evening. Whether it was my mom or Tom, I was never actually the sole caregiver for days on end. These days I am.

And I'm not sure I'm very good at this single-parent thing. I so admire those out there who are widowed or who have, for one reason or another, had single-parenthood thrust upon them.

I realize that divorced parents call themselves single parents. And I understand why.

But...most divorced parents get some time away from their children, some sort of reprieve from the day in/day out act of parenting.

I'm not really getting that right now. And I'm tired. When Tom's here, he's got specific projects he wants to get done and those don't include having two little girls stuck to him like barnacles.

Even though I have projects I'd like to get done too, I don't get to scrape the barnacles off to do them. I have to work around those little appendages. Like the painting last week. Or even the walks I want to take. I can't just go out and walk. I have to load up the stroller with water and snacks and make sure they've both peed before we leave.

I know, bitch much?

But it's hard and I'm not sure everyone (Tom) realizes that. And lest I lose my mind and go off on an enormous temper tantrum the next time we're together, I better just vent it all here, for the world to see.