Or maybe it’s because there’s a Capricorn moon with Saturn in Virgo.

All I know is, there’s a comment awaiting moderation right now in response to my post about “Kate Hudson: “Boys, Meet My Son.”

The comment, however, has nothing to do with Kate Hudson or her son. It was sent by Mae’s father, from Ireland. He goes by the user name “Cupid Zen.” (Oh, the irony!)

I can’t remember the last time I heard from him. It has been more than a year for sure. The comment says, simply:

“Happy B Day Big Girl”

I’m assuming that the “Big Girl” he refers to is Mae, but her birthday was way back in April.

Perhaps the “Big Girl” is yours truly, but my birthday is towards the end of July. (And, am I really a Big Girl? I thought I was a woman.)

I haven’t responded yet. Should I?

P.S. Oh, and don’t even get me started about that cute, sweet not-yet-divorced dad who recently asked me out. I told him flat out that I’d love to hang out “as friends,” explaining that I’ve learned the hard way not to date men who are in the throes of a painful, bitter break-up.

My experience with not-yet-divorced men has led me to believe that they should either:

1. Not date because they are simply avoiding reality by diving into a new fling;

Or, 2. Date “recreationally,” for fun, because it’s so darn exciting to get back out there, but they’re too confused to be present for a real relationship.

So, we met a couple of times and had some insightful, open conversations. I thought we were off to a genuine friendship, it felt right. Then, without saying a word, he decided on the sly that he’d pursue a friend of mine. Maybe it’s a hunter man-thing I’ll never understand. What happened to good ol’ honesty?

If a guy is leaving sweet, flattering messages for both women, back to back… well, what was he thinking? Women talk, especially smart, honest ones. My girlfriend had the wits to call me and give me the scoop.

See what I mean by confused men?

Photo by Staci Becker

This week at MomLogic, guest blogger Mom-On-the-Edge asks if we are “Destined for Divorce.”

Mom-On-the-Edge, who is trying to save her marriage, examines the divorce cycle, and asks: Is it genetic?

Like Mom-On-the-Edge, my parents got divorced when I was little (she was one, I was three), in the 1970s. Like Mom-On-The-Edge, my sister and I had two houses, two sets of friends, two parents who loved us. We spent four days a week with our Mom, and three days with our Dad.

Like Mom-On-the-Edge, I figured out how to get by in such contrary settings: my mother didn’t allow us to have sugar, my father woke us up in the morning with chocolate cookies; my mother forbid me to get my ears pierced, my father took me to the mall to get the deed done.

Unlike Mom-On-The-Edge, I remember “the slamming doors” and “the alarming silence as they avoided each other while sitting in the same room.” Although my parents signed their divorce papers soon enough, they continued to fight through my childhood.

She writes:

“Studies show that growing up in a divorced family greatly increases the odds that you will end your own marriage. It’s called the divorce cycle. As children we learn our relationship skills and marital commitment from our parents. So, the answer is yes AND no. Yes, I could be destined to repeat history. No, it’s not in my genes.”

I’m really curious: Are you part of “the divorced cycle”? How many of you come from divorced families?

Have you repeated the relationship patterns you learned from your parents? (I certainly have).

Although I may never remarry, one of my life goals is to teach my child that having lifelong loving, healthy, communicative relationships with others IS possible. I try to remember this every day. Your turn…

Photo from Matchstick

Father’s Day used to be so darn sad for me. I’d wake up, open my eyes, close them again and wish the day away. But now that we live out here in in Cali, near my dad and step-dad, it’s not so bad.

What makes it all better are the single dad bloggers I’ve met through this site.

This post is for you, single dads, as well as the soon-to-be ones! I’ve even had the wondrous opportunity to meet a few of you in the flesh — both in NYC and the Bay Area. I’m one lucky chic.

So, here’s “Happy Father’s Day” to:

David Mott at Dad’s House, thanks for inspiring me to keep it real. And more. Here’s to future pondering about condoms, intimacy, booty calls…

Trey Ellis, congrats on the publication of your juicy, tell-all memoir, Bedtimes Stories: Adventures in the Land of Single-Fatherhood. I’m rooting for you and your new love in NYC!

Crazy Computer Dad, I know this year has been full of challenges for you. I’m continually impressed by how advocate for your son, no matter what.

Jorge Fitz-Gibbon, thanks for being a role model in creating a healthy, loving blended family!

Matt Logelin, a new single dad whom I’ve only just read about this morning at Glamour’s Storked! (Slight warning: there’s a lot of f*ck in the post, and this guy will break you down. He just did it to me.)

Of course, Happy Father’s Day to the soon-to-be divorced dads, too:

Laid Off Dad, it was great to connect this year at Robert Rummel-Hudoson’s book launch party. I’ve reread your bold post about “falling down” many times.

P.S. I realize I’m posting this a bit before Father’s Day. I’m off to an all-women’s writing retreat this weekend. See you on Monday!

P.P.S. MSN.com posted my little piece about “Why I Love Dating Single Dads” in honor of all the single dads out there. Thanks for inspiring me!

Hey Mamas, send these guys a littl’ love, will you?

To make matters more intense, it just so happens that during Mary Pols‘ book launch party last night for Accidentally on Purpose, she read her infamous chapter about her condom-free one-night stand, which gave her little Dolan.

Although no one in the audience dared to ask Mary about condoms last night, the night did have an unexpected surprise:

I blushed during Mary’s bold reading, and then stayed up way too late thinking about this post. First, let me say that I’m pro-condom. I think everyone should use condoms, I think condoms should be sold in every bathroom for a nickel, the same way that tampons are sold. But in my experience, men don’t like to use them. They will beg, pressure, say anything to do condom-free. Am I alone here?

In response to yesterday’s one-night stand post, David from Dad’s House emailed me on the side that he was “was truly flabbergasted when I read that “oops” line. But you’re probably right, there are probably a lot of people who don’t use condoms. From where I stand, they are polluting the dating pool. But that’s just me, I guess.”

I take full responsibility for having made a few careless decisions in my past, and I wrote about one instance in my book — when, I gave into one man’s persistence. I freaked out afterwards, and reprimanded myself for weeks. (By the way, my decision to get pregnant with my daughter was a conscious one. At the ripe age of 28, I was certain that I wanted to become a mom — and it took just one try to make it happen.)

I told Dad’s House: “I think that many, many people are sleeping around without condoms.”

It’s terrifying, but is it true? I’m asking you. Does any of this ring true for you? Sign in anonymously if you want.

Photo from faincut

And it already looks dead.

No really: I was so tickled when the Biologist showed up for our date the day before Mother’s Day with an orchid. So sweet! It’s the first time in his life that he has ever dated a single mom, and he gets an A+ for his sincerity and genuineness.

Before having a child, I had a slightly green thumb. I had a mean, green herb garden, I had plants in every corner of my bedroom. Not long into motherhood, I realized that if I wanted to have plants in my home, they’d have to be hearty ones. If I forgot to water them, I had a toddler who eagerly over-watered them.

Anyway, when the Biologist pulled up last Saturday, there was this lovely orchid in his backseat. I thanked him, smiled, and said, “I hope I don’t kill it.”

I’ve only had an orchid once before, a gift from the kind people at the local flower shop near my old home. But during my move, the plant started to whither and died. I felt really bad. The worst part is: the day after Mother’s Day, I woke up and found the orchid’s one and only flower on the floor.

“Are you temperamental, or what?” I said.

But I couldn’t help but feel responsible. I’d only had the thing for a day! I called the Biologist, and he confessed that he’s given me the “most finicky” kind of orchid (a “Phrag”). Then, he went on to tell me how to take care of it: only filtered water (we drink from the tap here, which means that I need to get a filter), no direct sun and cool environment (it was 100 degrees here yesterday)… He paused.

“I gave you something kind of high maintenance, didn’t I?” he said.

“Uh, yes.”

Let’s hear your update about Mother’s Day! Bring on the sweet and the sour!

Here are some of my favorite updates from the single parent blogging world:

This is classic: Rebecca Eckler, who writes for www.globeandmail.com, posed as her child to ask her ex for money: Get What You Want This Mother’s Day. Twist the Ex’s Arm.

Trey Ellis spent the day at the zoo with his new blended family. (You’ll see in my comments to him: I want to know what he’s telling his kids about his new girlfriend? Isn’t his daughter asking how a ton of questions? Help me out here, friend.)

Here’s how Mommy Pie explained — as I have, too — that on Father’s Day, we celebrate Grandpa. Good goin’!

Orchid from clix

He started “it” back in February by sending me this sweet email. I’m a sucker for compliments:

“I really like your blog and website, very well done,” he wrote. “There’s a reason it’s the only single parenting site in my blog roll so far.”

Fortunately, he has since added more bloggers, like Ms. Single Mama . (Oh, that on-the-ball mama just beat to me to the punch with a Dad’s House post of her own.)

“It would be nice to meet and chat with a fellow Bay Area single parent writer (you!) in person,” he added.

As it turns out, we live just an hour away from each other. I wrote back to say that it’s so “rare” for two bloggers to actually meet in the flesh. I was game, however.

So, David from Dad’s House offered to drive my way (thanks!) so we could meet for real. I’d imagined a business lunch. We’d talk about blogging, of course. I’d only seen that one photo of him — with the red hat — so I had this vision of meeting a skinny, serious, quiet guy. I’ll be the first to admit that I have some unfair misconceptions about men from Silicon Valley.

Boy, was I in for a surprise.

This cute guy with tortoise shell glasses, green eyes, and shiny black shoes walked into the cafe where I was working.

“I never would have recognized you!” I blurted out.

I gave him a short hug — which caught him off guard, I think — and then we were off. He’s talkative, a little goofy, a great listener. We got hungry and walked to the Thai place a few doors down. We both had curry.

We just kept on talking: about blogging, parenting, literary agents, our kids, boundaries, dating. I’d expected a very analytical man, but he has a strong philosophical side.

Before we knew it, three hours had passed. Oh no, David got a parking ticket! (Sorry).

We should have taken pictures. We should have made a video.

Really, how often do a single mom blogger and a single dad blogger get to meet in person? Not often, I think. I feel like I have a new friend out there, and I hope he feels the same way.

I’ll never forget his last words to me, as we said goodbye. “”High tide floats all boats,” he said.

He explained that this is a popular saying in Silicon Valley. If the tide is high for everyone — that means for us, as single parents — we’ll keep each other from drowning. Here’s to keeping each other afloat, David.

Fess up, single moms and dads: Who do you have a crush on, virtually or in real life?

P.S. If you can’t tell, Ms. Single Mama certainly has a virtual crush on Dad’s House.

A single dad I know — who prefers to remain anonymous — recently posted this ad on Craig’s List.

FREE Great Room

This ad is real and there are no ulterior motives attached to it. I have a great room in my great home I share with my son. I am a single dad.

Here’s the story: I’ve been on my own since the age of 17, basically. Since 13, I have cooked all my meals. But, you know, I’m getting older and frankly I’m tired of cooking for myself. And my bones are starting to ache and that’s because I work out a lot. (see pic)

Now here’s the deal:

You can have a great room in a great house with a garden, big aquarium, lots of books and fossils for FREE, absolutely free, but you have to do two things for me:

One - I’d like you for cook my son and me. Healthy meals with lots of vegetables. And not 3 meals a day. The occasional breakfast and dinner Monday to Friday.

Two- AND NO HANKY PANKY HERE - I’d like the person renting the room to give me a back massage 3-5X a week for 30-60 minutes. Again, NO HANKY PANKY.

I’ve been alone for so long, I have a feeling that if I have the meals and massage I’ll be improving the quality of my life. I’ll age better. I’m actually a great cook but I am so tired of doing it.

My son is a wonderful boy, balanced and soulful. I’m a wonderful guy, too.

My house is located in _____, where all the great stores and restaurants are.

The person who takes me up on this offer must be quiet at night and know that we pretty much shut off all TV and music at around 11pm.

So if you think you’re the guy or woman who can fit the bill, I hope to hear from you.

Sincerely,

E.

So, please tell me:

• Would you have the guts to post something similar, a-la single mom?
• Would you respond to this ad?

Photo courtesy of Chris27 at www.sxc.hu/

Just before Thanksgiving in the year 2000, Mae’s father told me he wouldn’t be coming with us to my cousin’s house, where we’d planned to spend the holiday. Instead, he wanted to stay in Manhattan with his sisters on Thanksgiving, something he hadn’t done for more than a decade. Looking back now, he was probably planning his big exit. He was probably mapping out the details to catch a plane.

We’d been having a rough time together –I was your classic codependent living with an alcoholic. I’d thought that a couple of days apart would do us good.

The morning before Thanksgiving, Eric took the baby and me to Penn Station, as planned. He walked us to the train, gave us each a quick peck on the cheek, and stepped away just as the doors were closing.

That was the last time we saw him.

~~~

From my cousin’s home, I’d called our apartment. There was no answer. As I left a message, giving him our arrival time, I had a bad feeling. During the three-hour train ride back to NYC, my bad feeling got worse.

When we got off the train, he wasn’t there. I called Eric’s sister, and she told me he hadn’t shown up for Thanksgiving. My head started to throb. Something was wrong.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll call Joseph and tell him to come and get you.”

Joseph was Eric’s older brother, the dependable one in their family. Though I’d met him only a handful of times, he had always been interested in how Eric, Mae, and I were doing. And I suspect he knew that things were not going well. He arrived within a half hour, embracing Mae with one hand and patting me on the shoulder with the other. He scooped up Mae’s car seat and our suitcase and said, “C’mon girls, let’s go.”

When we arrived at our apartment, I was certain Eric would be there. With Mae on my hip, I rushed from room to room, looking for a clue, a note, anything that said why he wasn’t there. All of his clothes were gone. But he’d left the photos of Mae and him. He’d left his carpentry
tools, too. This meant he was coming back, right?

It would take a year for it to finally sink in: he wasn’t coming home.

Traditionally, Thanksgiving has been tough for me. I feel endlessly grateful for Mae — and for my family and friends.

But I wonder: how do you remember a life toss-up like this one? I certainly don’t feel sorry for myself. But it’s not like I find myself celebrating, either. Maybe I should?

“How did you first talk to your child about her family? How old was your child? What did you say?”

Well, my baby was only seven months old when her father split town, but I already knew that was a precocious one. I’ve always been the kind of woman who likes to be prepared (”over prepared,” my ex-boyfriends would probably say), so I went on a search for single parent books.

Here are a couple of my favs:

WHO’S IN A FAMILY?, by Robert Skutch

THE FAMILY BOOK, by Todd Parr

I started reading single mama picture books to Mae as soon as I realized that her father wasn’t coming back (which was after her first birthday came and went; yes, it was looking quite certain). And guess what? She has never asked me that question: “Do I have a daddy?”

Maybe she will one day. Or, maybe it’s because I laid out the facts for her, clear and simple. Or maybe it’s because here, in the Bay Area, single parent families are so… normal.

Of course, other kids have asked her, “Do you have a daddy?” (You should see me eavesdropping outside the door.) Mae has been very matter of fact: “Yes. He lives far away. My mom takes care of me.”

Please tell me: Has your child asked, “Do I have a daddy?”

What have you said?

P.S. I recently discovered that Mae’s father occasionally comments on this blog (he signed his name “Big Guy,” which was my nickname for him when we were together), as well as other single mom blogs (he signed his name, “Mae’s Daddy.”) I wish him the best. I truly do.