Sassafrass

The divorce is done, my friends. It's time to talk about dating.

I am thinking thinking thinking about how and if to talk about dating on this little blog of mine. I sometimes startle myself by how how comfortable I am spilling personal details of my own life, and still, I am very protective about what I will give up about the other people in my life. Believe me, the stories are good. But I don't want to hurt feelings or sacrifice important relationships over one silly post (a book deal, though?...whole different story). In fact, a newspaper reporter told me a few weeks ago that she read my entire blog (good Lord, I wonder how many naps she took in the process) and still had no clue why and how my marriage ended. All I could respond to her observation was "yes."

I didn't want this blog to give any more energy than necessary to the other people person who I was divorcing. I wanted to focus on how I was doing, how my son and I were getting through, and now, on the family we are. So no, there aren't those details of exactly what went down. And I am good with that. As I turn my attention away from attorneys and parenting agreements, it's time to put that same kind of thoughtfulness into how I do or do not cover dating. I'm just not sure about that yet. There are pros and cons on each side, including the pro of the crazy, crazy stories that emerge out of this old/new world of meeting up with single men and the con of putting those wackadoodles on the same screen as I write about my son. It may take a bit of stumbling and restarting and saying "to hell with it" and hitting the publish button to figure out.

In the meantime, I've spilled -- just enough -- to the Red Eye, a local paper that ran this story today on single parents and dating. I'm thrilled to be quoted alongside my grrrls Ms. Single Mama and Rachel Sarah of Single Mom Seeking. After you read the full story, check out the nice little sidebar on single parent social networking here. If your local, pick up a copy or twelve!

Do also check out the right-on commentary by Amy Sue Nathan, a fellow single mama, Chicagoan and great support here on Sassafrass.

What are your thoughts, gentle readers? How open should a newly single mama be about dating on her blog?

Novembers past

One year ago today, I wrote this post. I never thought that launching Project: Life Change with the wise and loving CityMama would mean so much for me personally. I thought it was about quitting one job in hopes of getting another. Instead, I waved farewell to one life and got another. I'm no longer sad about that and one of the reasons I am where I am these months later is the vulnerability, rawness and courage other women who signed on for Project: Life Change bared in their own blog posts and comments. Another reason is all the support that emerged from places I never expected, including the corners of these surprising, ever-changing interwebs.

Two years ago today, I wrote about the breaking news of Brit and KFed breaking it off. Good Lord! That was only two years ago? It seems like two comebacks, seventeen sets of extensions, two stints in rehab, a disaster of a custody case and one disgustingly over-worn pair of ripped fishnets ago. Do you think Barack Obama's going to reign Britney in as a priority item in his administration or that he'll just hand that manila folder on over to Joe Biden to handle? Hell, maybe he will toss it on over to Sarah Palin. Seems like her speaking career may have tanked this week along with her shot at the (inevitable) presidency, so she might just speak Brit's language, y'all.

The day before that national news overtook anything else clearly less important in the headlines, I took Lil E to the polls. There, he expressed his interest in voting multiple times. Interestingly, this week, he did just that -- once in the car with me and once in his preschool classroom. You've got to love a Chicago kid, learning to vote early (as in toddler, my friends) and often (as in as many times as it takes to avoid a political meltdown from a kid who really just needs another fishy cracker one-hitter).

And because the universe loves to bring us right around to where we began, I also posted that week about a winter two years before. I put up pictures of a couple that had just become a family and baby who is now a boy. There was a lot of love in that cold and drafty room and I am quite grateful that the three of us shared that time in our lives together.

I am also grateful to page back and find these words by David Whyte and this magnificence by Rumi. These years and all these happenings later, I still need to be reminded of what's written here.

Madonna and I finally have something in common

I mean, other than these rockin' bodies and countless hit singles. Of course, Madonna, being the apparent planner and PR-machine that she is, is planning her divorce (get this) a year-and-a-half in advance.

A year-and-a-half!? Seriously? I hope she writes some a song explaining all this shit, like she did when all that went down with Sean Penn and the world was like, "WHAT THE --??!!" and then heard her song and was like, "Ohhhhh, now we get it.  Now we feel you, friend." You know people will be pointing the finger at their complicated adoption of baby David, which is exactly what I am completely uninterested in hearing. I mean, do we really need the agony of another marriage gone down the drains because a kid was brought into the picture story (not that I'm bitter)? Anyway, I vote for Madonna to give us some sort of poppy, rhymey perspective on the end of her marriage instead.

Let's hope for that. And then let's hope the explanation doesn't come in the form of a children's book or with a half-assed British accent. If she has 18 months to finalize the paperwork, she clearly has plenty of opportunity to sit down at the keyboard with a yellow steno pad and hammer out a few verses, right?

I know she does all kinds of charitable work and has to choreograph the next big tour no one will talk about but, a year-and-a-half?! I cannot get over that.

Suddenly, standing nakey on a street corner to pose for a coffee table book and ending it with Warren Beatty isn't looking so crazy. Unless she's got this all worked out as a way to tighten the screws on her Guy. If that's the case, I happen to have memorized the number of another (ahem) person's certain almost-ex that she is welcome to strategize slow-dripping dissolution techniques on when she gets bored of torturing her own hubs.

Maybe this is a sign for me that I need to take up Pilates and Kaballah. Or record the dance remix of a flagging mid-90s hit that will appeal to all the adorable Project Runway-committed boys just now coming up in the clubs. Or maybe it is just the universe telling me that I should go a little blonder the next time I spend four days and a gajillion dollars getting my hair did by Silvia at the salon.

Whatever it is, I hear you, Madge. For the first time since Justify My Love, I am really, really hearing you.

Keep it together, grrrlfriend

By now, I assume everyone has seen the shots of Brit's vajayjay spread eagle on the Internet. I assume that because even my dad has seen them. He's retired, so there are clearly more hours in the day and less firewalls on the network to deal with when hunting this millenium's version of Vanessa Williams's Playboy and Penthouse pics.

I've seen the pictures and read a slew of snarky comments about how Britney's stability as a mother are surely undermined by her association with Par and Lind. It just seems to me that Brit is a wild child drawn to other people who have a penchant for partying like rock stars (note to Paris and Lindsay: I said like rock stars) and then doing a lot of PR clean-up over a Red Bull the next morning.

The thing that gets me are the frames and frames of vulva shots caught by the paparazzi that tell all of us that the Brazilian waxers are doing juuuuuust fiiiiiine in L.A.

What you do with your business is obviously your business, but I am one of those freaky feminists who tends to think that a grown woman's purposely nakey vulva is akin to some kind of strange pre-teen sexualization.  This is more of a guideline than a rule, but for this situation, I feel safe filing it under uncomfortable (and I don't just mean because of the itchy factor).  As for Brit, I don't get why she is going so Mickey Mouse Club in her post-Chaotic days.

While I'm sure I could get a thesis worth of analysis out of the Teen Beat Trio here, I will leave you with some other people's preaching on the subject: I highly recommend you check out this kickass commentary by Lisa Gabriele. The author put all I was thinking (and much, much more) together perfectly. I'm also getting a good giggle in while reading the ongoing commentary on Brit and friends here. While you're at it, be sure to read the post up on Britney's official website, clearly some clever writing and strategy by one of the (ahem) cheekier people on her staff. 

More Brit babble (you know you want it)

Oh hell yes, I am all over this latest celebreakity. 

I think I actually squealed out loud when I logged on last night in between election updates and read this Brit bit.  I promise not to go on and on and on (as per normal). Jump ovah here to get my quick take on the end of the Chaotic.