For Queen and Country

I am a little flustered as to how to go about today’s column.

This emotion is not new to me, as I have experienced it quite frequently. Great expectations that culminate in great disappointment. Like, thinking a lover is The One, and then being disastrously wrong. Or like realizing even Levi’s Eva jeans did not make provision for blubber in the front and the back. Or like thinking you gave a pretty decent answer to your eternally inquisitive kiddies and then being gob smacked by their reply. The following is case and point.Troll 2: ‘Mommy, where does Jesus live?’Me: ‘In the sky!’ Troll 1: ‘Jesus doesn’t have a car.’ Me: ‘Yes he does! Jesus is God Almighty. He created heaven and earth. His power is absolute.’Troll 1: ‘Mom … there are no cars in the sky.’Or like going on a fabulous mom’s break to The Queen and her palace … and then realizing you are not a very good holiday goer. Let me explain…My fabulous ten day mom’s break at The Queen was, well, fabulous. Her house, a palace in my mind, has rooms and rooms, and a lush green lawn that sprawls and sprawls, and a pool that is clean, blue and sparkling.Her television remains hushed and never ventures to cartoon channels, her nanny – friendly and faultless. Her husband, The King is the generous, strong silent type, with a rather uncanny knack for raising sons … and gardening.Her sons, The Princes are handsome, helpful lads. She herself, beautiful and the reigning star in that clean, orderly house where the dishes are never dirty and the floors have never seen the insubordination of toy cars, toy action heroes, mud cakes or dog poo.I slept until ungodly hours, awoke to find breakfast made and found my soul tortured with three maddening options. Shall I while away the hours shopping for all things pretty, or shall I stretch out and watch a real live, bona fide grown up movie, with no interruptions from beginning to finish … or shall I slip outside and lie by the pool, daydreaming and drenched in the glorious sun.I felt very Kimora Lee Simmons, except my life in the fab lane did not include irrational screaming fits … or scaring the grown men who work for me. Ah yes, my mom’s break was fabulous … for the first three days…Slowly but surely a very strange feeling started taking hold. Why was the house so quiet? Why was it so clean? Surely every house gets a little dirty and disorderly sometimes, right? What was it with that pool! Do they put some strange, calming drug in those waters?! And the grass! Why was it so green? That can’t be normal! And The Queen! Why does she never look tired? Or exasperated? Or … hungry?! Why is The King so perfect? Why can the eldest Prince cook? Why is the youngest Prince a rugby star in the making? He’s only eight! Why is the middle Prince so charming?! Something strange was going on … or it finallyhappened. I was losing my mind. Was this the end? That definitive moment my lifehas come to? The Urban Single Mom spending Christmas in a mental asylum? The remaining days of my mom’s break flew by in a haze of perfect holiday experiences … and building paranoia.It was only upon preparation to return home that I realized what was truly wrong in my world. I missed My Trolls … and I missed my own messy little ‘palace’. I missed it so much; my brain simply could not function properly. And so, I’m happy to report that this Urban Single Mommy is back home … and it is crazy, ridiculous chaos. Just like it should be.For more Confessions of an Urban Single Mom, visit the facebook page. Or email me at urbansinglemom@gmail.com

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