As a single parent blogger, I try my best to tell entertaining stories about my single dad dating life and also about raising teens. But lately I’ve been feeling like a frazzled single parent, and it's been a challenge to stay focused on positive blog posts (I don't like venting online. But I might vent a little right now. Doh!)
I’d like nothing more than to have a partner* pick up the slack for me right now. (* preferably a latina who enjoys spooning, but I wouldn’t say no to a hot French woman who likes a stiff mai tai. Doh!)
I actually thought I was staying on top of things. But when I drove my son to lacrosse practice, I realized I was losing a grip on my week.
My son played a lacrosse game this past Saturday, and his team only scored one goal.
“Are you guys working on drills where you cut into the crease to quick-stick some shots?” I asked. “Your team really needs to start scoring.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “We scored six goals in Sunday’s game.”
They had a game on Sunday? Doh! Frazzled single dad points scored!
“By the way, some lady called you for an interview,” my son said.
“She did?” I asked.
“Yeah. It was supposed to happen on Monday.”
Doh! Frazzled single dad points scored again.
After dropping him at lacrosse practice, I had an hour to fix dinner before I needed to pick him up again. But I came home to a house with both toilets backed up. Seriously backed up. Like, I needed to call a plumber to snake the line.
Frazzled single dad, redux!
But wait, there was a bigger problem. My daughter had a soccer playoff game after dinner that I wanted to see. I was supposed to pick my son up from lacrosse practice, get him home to eat, start him on his homework (he was skipping her game), go see my daughter’s game, and get back home before anyone’s bedtime.
Frazzled! Frazzled! Frazzled! Can’t someone else pick him up and take care of him?
At that point, I actually thought it was a sign from the universe. You see, I have a hard deadline Friday that I’m working overtime to meet. If I skipped my daughter’s playoff game, I could work toward the deadline while the plumber fixed the toilets, and my son got his homework done. My frazzled state would be pacified, in spades. (Of course there are more fun ways to get unfrazzled. Drinking and sex, anyone? Doh!)
But soccer playoff games like this come once in a high school lifetime. No way would I miss my daughter and her teammates in a match like that.
And so this single dad gave a middle finger to his frazzled life – I went to the game, I sent my kids to their mom’s house to sleep, and I told the plumber to come at 11pm.
I’m home alone now, shaking up my favorite margarita recipe, writing this post, feeling quite unfrazzled.
But man, I have to pee. Where’s that damn plumber, already?!
btw – my daughter's team lost late in the game when the ref called a dubious foul in the box. It looked like the girl took a dive, and it definitely wasn't in the box. The sideline ref said he didn't see a foul. But the center ref, who was 30 yards from the play, called it and awarded the other team a penalty kick - i.e. one on one vs. the goalie, and almost impossible to stop. In short, the center ref gifted the game to the other team. Season over. Frazzled times!
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