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She Said: What Defines a Single Mom?


A Letter To My Ex-Husband On Father's Day

You never really know what kind of parent someone will turn out to be.

It’s one of the hardest jobs in the world — and not everybody is up to the task. I’ve known kind, intelligent men whose personalities seem tailor-made for parenting who can’t hack it on the front-lines of parenthood. And conversely, I’ve witnessed hardened bad boys transform into gelatinous piles of mush the moment their babies are born, tackling the dad role with gusto.

Who knew what kind of father the scrappy little rock’n’roller from Philly I married 11 years ago would become? I didn’t.

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She Said: To Botox or Not to Botox?

Mom Monica Bielanko ponders whether she should get Botox or not, even though she used to be so against it. Can you relate? #shesaid

Posted by on Thursday, June 11, 2015

Sassy Lady Singing The Blues

It's evening. Not quite dusk but the sun is slowly sinking behind my neighbor's tall trees, dappling my yard in lemon tones. A breeze plays the leaves on the trees like a concert pianist, the oceanic result competes with Billie Holiday; sassy lady crooning her heartbreaking blues from my record player. I'm here. Two kids sound asleep, one roasting marshmallows in a neighbor's backyard. An ice cold beer sweats next to me as I tap keys and wonder what I'll type next.

This website is still my home here on the Internet. Sometimes I log in here with purpose, with something to say, seeking a response or interaction, maybe. But tonight I have nothing specific to share with you but still wanted to share something. I don't know. I'm as interested as anyone to see what my fingers type...

Life is so full of twists and turns... About the only thing I know for certain is that nothing is certain. Nothing. Check that. The only thing that is certain is that I am a mother to three beautiful babies. Gorgeous souls whose shining eyes cause lumps in my throat and tears in my eyes on a daily basis. I have given up all plan-making, all future desires. This life I'm carving out over here, smack dab in the center of Pennsylvania, is a day-to-day endeavor. I work my ass off. I am a good mom. I love people and people love me. I am at peace with everyone in my world. Almost. And that is enough. At least for now. All the rest of it is noise.

I am also scared. I feel like a broken person, unsure of many things, especially about myself. But goddammit, I'm trying. I am living carefully and deliberately and trying to be a good, honest person. And that is what matters, I guess. Anyway, as I approach the ten year anniversary of this website I wanted to thank you, whoever you are, for being here. For bearing witness to my fucked-upness, for giving a shit. I like it. I'm glad you're here and I'm glad I'm still here ten years, three children and a divorce later.

I Swear in Front of My Kids and I Don't Give a Damn

I was raised, as most of us are, with the notion that there are “good words” and “bad words.” I was encouraged to use the good words and discouraged, under threat of spanking from my Mormon mother and grandmother, from using the bad ones. This contraband list included, but wasn’t limited to, the usual suspects I believe the comedian George Carlin once nicknamed the “7 Dirty Words.”

As it turns out, in my adult life, these are the words I enjoy the most.

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