solo mama entendre

I’m sitting in a Freddy’s restaurant eating a hamburger and drinking liquid poison (Pepsi), after a solid workout where I burned at least 300 calories according to the machine I was on. My nose is red from crying and I am THAT guy. Sitting alone at a table, positioned where I can see all the doors to know who is coming and going. When I ordered, the peppy cashier who is currently singing along to the oldies, could not have rolled his eyes any louder at me when I responded to his “how ya doin?” with “I’ve been better.” Look at me, man. I clearly just walked in from the gym, sweaty and wearing spandex. How many of your customers make a beeline here after their workouts? Yeah. That’s what I thought.

This week has been HELL. Aside from the  world exploding around us, I have felt more crazy, sad and alone than I have in awhile. I am preparing for a camping trip with the kids and just spent more money on sleeping pads than my monthly car payment because the air bed I ordered online this week is defective. Or I can’t install batteries correctly, which wouldn’t surprise me.

I feel more socially and professionally awkward than ever. I’m thinking I might feel better if I invest in a nice, recycled brown paper bag and place it over my head when I go in public. Participating in a national training for work this week made me feel way out of my element. Totally humbled to work alongside such talented people in my field.

I engaged a parenting coach this week to help me manage my interactions with my daughter more effectively. I hope to preserve what’s left of my mind. Since I don’t seem to know anyone who encounters the same level of insanity with their daughter regularly, I may keep friends and strangers alike posted through blogging just to get stuff off my chest.

Thanks for listening, social media world. I know this post has not been uplifting or encouraging. Freddy’s Dirt and Worms sundae is looking damn fine about now. Let’s rally.