Well hello there, awesome readers!
While this is mostly known as a humor blog, what I’m about to share with you is no laughing matter. This is a story about a man who failed at his responsibilities as a father …
Just ten minutes before I was to become a single mother, I was sitting in my living room reading A Woman of Substance by Barbara Taylor Bradford. It was 1989 and I was 24 years old.
A lot has happened since then. I went on to read all seven books in Barbara Taylor Bradford’s series. I’ve come to learn that no matter what challenges Life puts on your path, the most important life skill is an ability to laugh at yourself. And I’ve observed that things always come back to bite you in the ass.
You see, when I became a single mother, I also became the sole provider. The father to “our” two daughters did not help out financially and even moved to the other side of the country when “our” girls were still very little. Although he was not regular or even reliable with his visits prior to his move, he was still their father and the only father they knew. When he moved away, he broke their hearts.
And now I’ve written a book titled, SUPERWOMAN: A Funny and Reflective Look at Single Motherhood and even though I haven’t spoken to said failed father in about eleventy thousand years, he has heard about this book. I know this because he expressed his apprehension about it recently to “our” eldest daughter who is now in her 30s.
The book is written in memoir-style and shares some of my journey as a single mom and since said failed father TOOK OFF when “our” girls were very young, I can understand his apprehension. Except that I don’t go into too much detail about his failedness because the book isn’t about him (LIFE IS NOT ALWAYS ABOUT YOU, FAILED FATHER). The book is actually about what life is like when you’re left holding the bag. And by bag, I mean a toddler and a baby and ZERO SUPPORT.
There’s a quote by writer Anne Lamott that I love. She says, “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”
I know I said that this post is no laughing matter except that I have a word – just one – that I’d like to say to said failed father: HA!
Oh! And since I do have an ounce of empathy for your feelings, I’m really sorry that you feel apprehensive about me sharing what our lives were like after you left. But really, you should have behaved better.
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