Dating with a diaper bag

I went on a blind, internet date last night.  First date in three years - no pressure on him or anything.

I spent the entire day fretting.  Was my hair frizzy? Did I remember how to put on makeup? Did I need blush? What about my legs, did I shave my legs right with this newfangled electric razor?

Then there was the purse.  The dreaded but oh-so-necessary mom purse/diaper bag.  It's all I had.  I literally don't own anything else.  What I did own that could have flown for something decidedly less domestic decided to stage a coup and have a strap-snap.

It's never been a secret that dating mystifies me.  I was never very good at it, and now that I have kids I'm even more inept.  But it's necessary.  Even if the outcome of the date is just a night out with an adult, meant to be nothing more than a night out with an adult, it is vital to keeping your sanity.

We went out for drinks, and I learned a lot.  Not just about him, but about myself.  It was a moment of clarity, an epiphany, one of those times where the lights come down from the heavens to illuminate certain key points of existence and provide clarity on the mysteries of being a single parent.

Things I learned on this date that I'd like to pass along to you, my dearest readers:

1. First dates are infinitely easier when the person said date is with has a child, themselves.  Yes, you talk about your kids.  It's inevitable - but it's OKAY.  They understand, and in the rapport they talk about their own.  You share stories, war wounds, laughs, tips.  It brings the liberation of not having to compartmentalize yourself and seal away a part of you, or two or three parts of you, that you can never really cut off.

2.  Don't fret over the purse.  Seriously. He wouldn't have noticed if I had brought a bowling ball bag, I don't think.

3.  Find things to laugh about.  Be silly.  Keeping your back ram-rod straight whilst good for posture is bad for soul. Yes, you're a parent, but you're also a person.  Don't forget who that person is, and let that person shine.

4.  Beer is better when it goes IN your mouth, and not on your date.  For that reason, I pray that my dates never wear dry-clean only suits, and I never do either. ;) (Here's lookin' at you, kid.  It was an awesome way to break the rest of the ice.)

5.  Don't be afraid of chemistry.  Take that post-drink/dinner walk, talk some more.  If you brush up against them, IT'S OKAY.  We're all so used to creating huge bubbles of personal space, especially with our kids in tow so that strangers don't end up with chocolate fingerprints on their Fendi bags, that we may shy away from accidental or timid purposeful contact.  Don't.  Take a deep breath and embrace it, embrace them, let that chemistry send chills down your spine if your lips meet or your hands clasp.

Lastly? Sometimes it's okay to sneak back out after you come home and the kids are in bed, just so you can talk and kiss for four hours more.

Stay Madd, my darlings.  It's the only way to survive these seasons.

On babies (and mamas) who others think shouldn't be.

We all know I was an accidental mommy. My pregnancy with Kinder Major was flawless, and even enjoyable.  It could be argued, though, that I wasn't meant to be.  Moments after delivering a beautiful, angry red-haired little girl, I began to bleed uncontrollably.  I was so tired.  All I wanted to do was sleep off the pain I was in as I bled and bled.

But they fought me, and my mother fought me, and I stayed awake.  I stayed here for my baby.  I stayed here because I wanted to be, whether the universe wanted it or not.

Things with Bug were not so peaceful.  A sub-chorionic hemorrhage during my first trimester. Hit by a car second trimester.  Third trimester, pre-eclampsia, fetal distress, premature birth by induction.

I call him the little engine that could.  In spite of all of those things, he persevered.  He was the little fetus that could.

I hemorrhaged again after his birth, and again I wanted to just sleep.  This time I sent my mother away, instructing her to never leave the side of my baby, my little boy blue, not breathing, not stirring.

We danced with fate, the three of us.  Plenty of people who have heard our stories comment on how we, in one form or another, shouldn't be.

I believe they're wrong, though.  Our existence, and the way we fought to be a family, us three, makes life all the sweeter.  It makes it worthwhile to be.

Nightmare on Lover's Lane.

Dating.  It is the bane of my single parent existence.  In fact, I don't think I know of any single parent with a child under the age of 18 that doesn't dread the idea of it, in spite of our desires and needs.

So, what's an awesome, off-beat, witty and well rounded single mama like myself to do?

I'll give it to you straight:  I have No.  Freaking.  Idea.

Seriously.  There are hundreds of dating sites dedicated to the specifically single parent demographic, and hundreds more on top of that dedicated to dating in general.  LBGQT single parents, career single parents, Goth single parents, poly-minded single parents - there's something out there for everyone.

I've done the internet dating site thing.  Bug's existence may or may not be directly attributed to a brief relationship with a prime specimen of the psychotic loser that hides it well that your mother always warned you about person met via an online dating site.  Quite frankly, these sites are time consuming and unreliable.  There's far too much room for misrepresentation, especially with the double-edged anonymity the internet affords.

So, where the hell do we go, then?  I'm told that for the religious types that churches often hold socials and mixers aimed at the singles in the congregation, and there have been rumored successes in that venue.  Another one I hear of quite often is the "support group."  Yeah, a little too touchy-feely-playing-nice for me, but hey - if you dig it, it IS a support group for whatever you choose (and some of them are AIMED at single parents!) so theoretically anyone you meet and hit it off with should be totally cool with your maternal/paternal status.

For the rest of us, I suppose we leave it to chance.  Well, chance and self-fulfillment of our needs and desires, self fulfillment from a company (NSFW) that offers a free fulfillment method every few weeks.  (NO affiliation or sponsorship from them, just total devotion to their awesomeness.)

Tell me, readers:  Do you have other suggestions?  Hit by a meteorite or hit by a meteorong methods?  Sage advice, adages or anecdotal examples?  Leave 'em here. :)