I walked with my son along the sidelines of his Father’s rugby game late Saturday afternoon.
My three-year-old kicked leaves and I shuffled beside him, somewhat embarrassed that my kid’s skinny little legs were exposed in a pair of wildly autumn-inappropriate blue shorts. But he insisted and I’ve learned a hard fought lesson: choose battles with small humans wisely. At least he’s wearing a thick coat.
We’ve been to a few of Nolan’s father’s rugby games now, and at first I felt frozen to the bleachers among the cheering wives, Moms of adult, lumbering sons, and grizzled British ex-pats muttering salty words of frustration . Were there any other ex-fiancees here with the sons of any other of the rugby players? Didn’t think so. But we rolled with it, because we’re good at that, inspecting floating red Maple leaves and holding hands and sneaking off to buy root beer at the snack bar.
There’s an older man always present at these weekend games, in his late fifties, standing with a large camera and a keen eye on the sidelines under a canopy of trees. He’s watched my son and I at each of the four games we’ve attended, smiling, making us feel welcome, each time. This day he speaks to us for the first time: “So who do you two belong to?”
I look up and smile and stammer mentally, concocting what to say and Nolan points to the field, to a burly man in a white hat, pummeling another burly man into the sodden ground.
“That’s my Daddy!” he says joyfully.
Camera observer man turns to me, waiting.
“That’s my ex,”I say slowly.
“Oh,” he says, looking a little flustered: and then, “Silly man.”
It’s a little uncomfortable for a minute as I weigh the assumption: that this man believes the Father of my son left us somehow, gave us up. It’s an assumption I’ve heard before: no one wants to be a single Mom. Single Moms have been forced into the situation without their consent or compliance, right? This well-intentioned man doesn’t realize that perhaps, I was the one to leave.
I encounter assumptions about my single Mom status on a near daily basis; the following are the stereotypes that make me cringe the most.
1) Single Moms are desperate for a new man.
I’ve dipped my toe in the dating pool, grudgingly, over the last few months and the first thing that always comes up is the assumption that I want to get married and have more babies, stat. Why? Because I’m a single woman of child-bearing age? Because a woman is not complete without a man? I don’t know, but it’s annoying assumption, without merit, and I don’t like it.
2) Single Moms are money grubbing.
I can’t count how many times I’ve been asked how much alimony and child support I receive. The answer: none. The reaction: shock. Many acquaintances, friends, customers and strangers have assumed I am somehow benefiting financially from my separation. Nothing could be further from the truth. Not that it’s your right to ask anyway - in my opinion.
3) Single Moms should be pitied.
“I don’t know how you do it!” It’s the single most repeated refrain of my single Mama existence. It’s meant to be tender and empathetic, I know, and I don’t mean to dismiss the good intentions behind the phrase. But I do it because I have to, like every single Mom has to. It’s not worthy of praise, I’m no more strong than you, I just deal with what I encounter, like anyone else. Save the pity, is my view: save it for the baby seals and impoverished countries and Republicans. (Just kidding! Kind of.)
4) He must have left you
As above. Strangers have said: “He’s an idiot, why would he leave a team like you two, how could anyone leave you” and more. Strangers (and acquaintances) need not make these assumptions. Maybe he didn’t leave. Maybe us single Mamas did what we had to, made the decision ourselves.
What Single Parent assumption makes you crazy?