I read a commentary by a younger single mom today. She has mined her life experiences with authenticity and naked candor. She has also done it successfully-her book was published in this past year, and she is all over the media discoursing on what it means to be a young, single mom.


I aspire to be transparent, but perhaps not completely nude. I am constantly wrestling with what to disclose, when to disclose it, how to protect the innocent, and perhaps the guilty. I suppose I should pay attention to the idea that possibly what I am baring might be better left decently covered.

But tonight it was her essay on the fact that she had moved in with a boyfriend after dating him for only four months that gave me pause. A therapist I have consulted about the complexities of dating told me not to introduce my babes to a boyfriend, except as a friend, until such a time as we were very serious. Very serious, in her mind, means getting married serious.

I can't but think that this idea is honored much more in the breach than observance.

I am extremely cautious about introducing any male friends to my kids. Almost as cautious as I am about introducing them to myself.

There is part of me that envies, even though I am distressed, my younger friend's willingness to imagine herself in love-even with a guy who later turns out to be a bit of a heel. I wonder if I am willing to take such risks-or more likely to take refuge in the role of the loving, faithful, protective mother. That is unquestionably the most important one in my life-but should it be the only relational one in which I invest this depth of passion????