If you are a single mother by choice, you don't have another adult in your home to look after the kids while you kick up your heels with your girlfriends. You don't have an ex-husband to take the kids off your hands every other weekend and one evening a week, thereby freeing up your time enough to make a social life possible. If you're lucky, you may have someone--or sometwo or somethree--who you can call upon to relieve you so you can get out. But if you are like me, you don't . . . not really anyway. And that is a problem.
Time to revisit that ole survival philosophy Deprivation School of Thought. DSOT is what I call doing without a "luxury" in order to prevent going broke.
Sure, I had other mother friends whom I could have called to ask if they'd take my boys for a little while so I could go out. I made requests in the past, and I was most grateful to these people when they accommodated me. I asked for child-care help when I had a work prospect, a chance to advance my writing career, a job to perform on a school-vacation day, a Cub Scouting commitment with my older son, or an opportunity to get rich (auditioning for Who Wants To Be a Millionaire). I did not, however, seek their assistance for something as frivolous as painting the town red.
To this day, I feel very uncomfortable whenever I have to broach the subject of needing a favor. Since becoming an adult, I have viewed myself as a superindependent person. I do not like asking for help for anything. But the reality of being a single mother by choice is: You must ask for help sometimes. Then once I've asked, actually accepting that help makes me feel guilty. That's because I know I cannot reciprocate to the same level.
With my house in such a poor state, I could not have that family's child/children over for a playdate, much less a sleepover. So I offered to drive the children places to relieve the mothers of some back and forths. (With only a few exceptions, they haven't taken me up on it.) I've bought Christmas presents for the mothers, but then they've bought me ones in return--completely not my intention. One year I was given a Christmas tree! I've brought presents back from a West Coast writing conference, written thank you notes, taken their children to a farm day and holiday library program, and even invited one on an overnight camping trip. His mother and a male neighbor had separately tried to get the boy through the night sleeping outdoors; I was the one who succeeded. It was a coup greatly appreciated by the family and of which I am very proud. Still, no matter what I do, it never seems enough to me.
I have grown used to my constant state of feeling indebted to other people, especially in regard to my inability to invite other kids over.
To avoid the pitfalls of having to ask and feeling guilty--not to mention enduring the possible discomfort one feels when sensing real or perceived resistance, pity, or judgment that the asking might bring about--the single mother by choice without free and willing help must hire a babysitter. Well, guess what? Babysitter fees add up quickly, often doubling the amount of money spent on the evening's entertainment.
Can an SMC really afford to go out under these circumstances? Some can, and some cannot. Adopting the long-range view, I put myself in the latter category. As such, I have done my best to practice DSOT by saying no to a social life that costs me too much dough.
I remember going out once a year earlier. I sent my boys to "Movie Night" at my health club for $20 total--no discount for members like me, natch. Wanting to check out the scene in my very small town, I stopped by a popular local establishment to hang out. After consuming two drinks and one appetizer, I picked up the boys and headed home. I was gone two and half hours and was $50 poorer. Sure, I met a few people (whom I have not seen since) and had a good time. A $50-worth good time? No. The price of the evening shocked me--and knocked some sense into me. I realized I could not partake of refreshments in the evening at a restaurant/bar just for the heck of it, at least not more than once in a blue moon.
A neon sign in my mind blinked "DSOT! DSOT!" at me.
Not being part of a couple, I have not been invited to many parties in my town. The divorced contingent has also not embraced me as I am not one of them either. The type of social gathering I have been most often invited to (aside from kids' birthday parties) is the modern-day Tupperware or Mary Kay party--the sell-your-gold-jewelry or buy-someone-else's-jewelry party, the latter courtesy of Silpada or Stella + Dot. I remember the hostess of one such party saying to me, "It's been a long time since I've had a LADIES party!" The implication: She throws plenty of co-ed parties, though I wouldn't know from experience. Yes, these genteel wine-and-cheese soirees are for women only--a demographic I am, let's just say, a little too familiar with, being one myself obviously but also having attended girls' schools for four years and a girls' camp for part or all of six summers.
Thanks a lot, Mom and Dad, for my very female-centric life! Incidentally, mother also wanted me to go to Smith College.
Here's what happened when I was invited to one of the aforementioned gatherings: As it was being held on a Sunday afternoon when I was normally with my boys, the child-care issue once again reared its ugly head. Not having received a response yet to her invitation, the hostess contacted me. I explained my predicament: no child care, house too messy to bring a babysitter in anyway and, oh, by the way, with money tight I probably wouldn't be buying any jewelry. (Got to stay strong with DSOT.) I was hoping my sons could join her children doing whatever they would be doing because I really wanted to attend any adult party. Without saying so specifically, the hostess implied that would create too noisy and chaotic a situation while the party was in progress. After hearing her plan for her kids that afternoon, I had to agree. She suggested a playdate another day, instead.
Poof! went my adult-party opportunity. Just like that.
Every year I try to attend a reunion down in Boston for an outdoor school I went to in Wyoming in the mid-1980s. This party is really much more up my alley. Surprisingly, I have actually managed to get myself to it many years in a row despite it being held on school nights. A small miracle, really. This year? Hmm. Thus far, I have made no moves toward cleaning up my house, calling a babysitter, or finding a place where my sons could go on that particular night. Indeed, it will be very interesting to see if I can pull it off.
Regretfully, not having child care prevents the single mother by choice of young kids from going to ANY adult parties.
Rather than moan about this situation, I accepted it. It is part and parcel of being an SMC. Making the choice to raise a child on one's own means making sacrifices and being stoic about them. Like all my other SMC sisters, I must suck up the parts of the lifestyle I don't like.
My social life is an area I can curtail as it is not as essential as feeding myself, clothing my body, and taking shelter. Desirable? Yes. Necessary? No. Others may disagree. Of course, a robust social life can help to make a person happy. However, I know myself pretty darn well, so I know I am capable of a great deal of deprivation.
I am satisfied to do (or not do) what I must to keep my family financially afloat.
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