Confessions of an Urban Single Mom … Cockroaches

Cockroaches. That’s what she called them. Not me. A lady like me. A lady who no longer has to endure the cruel hardships of this world, and who no longer has to weather the storms and navigate her Single Mom boat through the stormy seas of this lonely, frightening, exhilarating journey.

I never knew her, but I wish I did. She is the mother of a reader who holds within her chest cavity a heart so big and so golden, it nearly jumped off the page when I read her letter to me a few days back.

I love receiving reader letters, simply because my readers are such a silly, confused bunch. They all seem to labour under a gross misapprehension of how the power-scale actually swings. They all think they have me to thank for putting in words a part of their lives, whether as actual single parents themselves or as products of single parents, when actually it is I who have to thank them.

My readers are the reason why I write every week. Yeah, sure the pay check certainly helps with bread and butter for The Trolls, but so much more than that is the knowing that ‘Dear Lord, I really am not alone’.

Because sometimes this world gets so cold and so cruel, it is so easy to forget.

So when I got a letter from a lovely 17-year-girl whose single mom used to call her and her siblings ‘her cockroaches’, I did the only thing I can do when somebody tears my heart out; I yelled at The Trolls to come and read it. So I can brag and remind them how awesome I actually am.

Guys! Look! This girl thinks I’m awesome! Her mom was a single parent too!

Uhm… Yeah, that’s only because she doesn’t know how weird you actually are, Mom!

Me (indignantly): I am not weird!

You sleep with your eyes open, Mom.

Yeah. And you fart in the car and blame us for it.

I have never farted a day in my life!

Your farts are like assassins.

Yeah, you’re pretty much The Fart Queen, Mom.

My reader’s mom used to call her kids cockroaches, and I can’t think of any other name more befitting a house full of kids who eat, jump, run, fight and laugh all day long. It’s the perfect term of endearment. I’ve been known to call The Trolls anything from Monsters to Bed Bugs. Because that’s my love style, and you can’t possibly call people who break flower vases and never clean their rooms ‘darling’ or ‘sweety’.

Troll 1 calls his baby brother ‘Butt-Brain’, and Troll 2 calls me ‘Mom-a-soar’. He says it’s because I am both “really, really old and really, really scary”.

The Magician calls his bunch ‘minions’ and the best pet name an ex-boyfriend ever had for me was Gogga. I adore wacky terms of endearments… because they are so real.

Just like love is supposed to be.

You don’t love someone because they are pretty or because they are neat. You love them… because their imperfections complete you.

Here’s to all The Trolls, Cockroaches and Minions of the world. You make all of this worth it.

In an age of information overload, Sunrise is The Namibian’s morning briefing, delivered at 6h00 from Monday to Friday. It offers a curated rundown of the most important stories from the past 24 hours – occasionally with a light, witty touch. It’s an essential way to stay informed. Subscribe and join our newsletter community.