I started this thing ready! Pumped! Even Excited! As a fan of the post-apocalyptic genre, I had been preparing for this moment my whole life! I have found myself many times watching these types of films anxiously sitting at the edge of my sit, grasping on to the chair for dear life, dying to jump through the screen to tell the character what I would do, how I would handle things, or to help them kick some zombie butt.

So of course as soon as I heard the news, I went into “Alice” mode.

 (For those of you that are not Sci-Fi fans, that’s Mila Jovovich’s character in the Resident evil movies… by far one of my favs from the zombie, virus, post-apocalyptic genre)

            I quickly found my daughters and I a place to bunker down, journeyed out to gather enough rations for the 14 days, and got to work on helping my business flow with the changes that were coming.

I was ready! …inspired! …pumped! No zombies would break through our perimeter!!!

I mean people…

I mean virus…

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Time has a way of swallowing us whole. It is as if, when we blink without intention, we wake up to notice time has gone with a whisper of what was lived or leaves behind a vague memory. Living on the road is not like this though. Life as a nomad is absent of time, every moment is lived with intention and every second is remembered as a complete moment that has been fully lived. My theory is that when we try to adapt to the mundane, the only way to cope is to disconnect, at least that has been my experience.

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 The fear of failure is the most deeply triggering emotion I have experienced as an adult. As a mother, that fear mutates to the idea that every decision I make can create a wound for my daughters that will change how they perceive and approach the rest of their lives. The possibility that I can turn them into balls of rage that finish each day by assuming fetal position in a dark corner of their room while shutting the world out.

        There is no situation in which this fear is more prevalent than those dreaded few days right before we depart on a new adventure. Right before we pack, right before we meet our friends for the last loving yet quivering exchange, right before the excitement when we realize that this is actually happening.

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I’ve been asked why I point out that I am a single mom on my posts many times. And it’s intriguing to hear the thoughts that are provoked by my title. The most common one is the idea that being single and a mom denote a “dead beat” dad. It has also been seen as a way to look for a new prospective partner. Even though I can see and understand where these ideas come from, I thought it would be reasonable to take a moment to point out the actual reason I use the term single mom.

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