a mother's day story about a single mom

and yes that single mom is me

In the weeks leading up to my son Max’s fifth birthday he invented an imaginary place called Giant Land. I don’t know where it came from, but one day Giant Land appeared and hung over our heads, way way high above the clouds, almost to space. Max would tell me about Giant Land while I was buttering his toast or rushing him to put on his shoes and I’d listen as he pushed through the walls of our apartment on Claremont Street and into all sorts of fantastic possibilities. His Giant Mom liked to meditate and his Giant Dad worked on researching humans. There were two-headed horses in Giant Land. You don’t need to wear a swimsuit at the beach in Giant Land. “Mom,” he said seriously. “I’m allowed to say ‘shit’ in Giant Land.” 

Finally on the morning of his fifth birthday he told me his birth story. His real birth story. I was on my hands and knees in our tiny bathroom evaluating two hundred dollars’ worth of Chanel face lotion tragically splattered across the tile. The lotion had been purcha…