I know this is one of those times I'll look back on and laugh...

My weekend culminated Tuesday morning when my grandmother backed into my car.

It started Thursday night with the dissolution of my two and a half-year relationship with John. It hasn't been working out for some time now, and I decided it was finally time to call it quits. I wanted so badly to be with him forever, to raise our child together, but, in the end, there was too much fighting and not enough selfless love to make the relationship work. I'm tired of bickering, tired of feeling like a single parent raising one sweet baby and one rebellious teenager. We agreed I would move out, and, in the meantime, I planned to stay in the house.

I spent half of Saturday looking for apartments and houses before meeting Natasha and family at Greek Fest for a gyro (the highlight of my day). I found an amazing duplex near Cherry Street, and worked the numbers over and over again in my head before admitting that there was no way I'd be able to afford the rent on my own. I prayed for something more affordable i the same area, but it seemed impossible, given the quality of the neighborhood.

Saturday night, Isaac got sick. I had been at Urban Brew, and, when I picked Isaac up from his Grandma Robinson's, she said he had been coughing and sneezing and congested all evening. By 1am, he was worse. He couldn't sleep because he couldn't breathe. I called John and asked him to bring us some saline spray and baby Benadryl. He couldn't because he was too drunk to drive and planned to stay at a friend's house. Furious, I took Isaac to my parents', and we've been there since.

After Isaac finally fell asleep at around 1:45, I got on Craig's List (where I'd found the amazing duplex) to see if any new amazing properties had been posted, and one had--an apartment a block away from and $200 less than the duplex I loved. I called the owner first thing Sunday morning, and her assistant agreed to show me the place. He warned me, though, that it was pretty messy. Whoever had been living there left in the middle of the night, and there was crap and dirt everywhere. I didn't care. I felt like this place was meant for me.

It's huge, nearly 1,000 square feet, with a big living room, big dining room, tiny kitchen, average bath and two decent-sized bedrooms. It's also got a couple extra closets for added storage. It's got wood floors and large windows that offer tons of natural light. It was dirty and the walls were covered with some pretty hideous shades of paint (the living room color resembles the greenish brown of baby poop, and the dining room is plaid and striped, circa 1970s), but, with a little cleaning and some fresh paint, it's just what I'm looking for.

I wanted to fill out an application, so I agreed to follow the guy to another property so he would be on time for his next appointment, and I was happy to see that the place was immaculate. It was reassuring to know that the property owner does take very good care of her apartments and that, after she was finished cleaning mine, it would be immaculate, too.

So I filled out the app, put down a deposit, and I sign the lease Friday. I'll be painting it myself, which is okay, because I'm excited about picking out the paint colors. I also have to buy new furniture since I gave nearly everything I owned to Youth Services of Tulsa when I moved back in with John, but I've been looking at Craig's List for that, too, and will be able to put together a ramshackle assortment of old, unique pieces for a couple hundred dollars. It's been fun planning the interior design of our new place, and I'm trying not to make it too girly so Isaac will have nothing to complain about, once he's old enough to complain.

Isaac stayed sick all day Sunday, and, by Monday, his cold had turned into croup. He woke us both up at about 4:30 Monday morning with an awful, barking cough and didn't go back to sleep until about 6am. I stayed home from work to take care of him, and he was (understandably) clingy and fussy all day. We went to the doctor that afternoon, and she confirmed my diagnosis and gave us an oral steroid, which helped as soon as we gave it to him. I spent a couple of hours that evening packing some of our stuff, and, at some point, my phone broke. It dialed and received calls, but the screen was completely black, so I couldn't retrieve any of my numbers or read the five or so text messages I got.

After another sleepless night, I grudgingly drug myself out of bed and into the shower to get ready for work. As I was heading out the door, my grandmother came in the house, nearly in tears, saying she backed into my car. She was so upset, but all I could see was a minor scratch on the front bumper, so I told her it was no big deal, not to worry about it, and set off to work. But my driver's side door wouldn't open. Apparently, when she backed into me, she pushed my fender back. So I spent all day climbing into and out of my car from the passenger side. At that point, all I could do was laugh.

So in two weeks, I've changed jobs, ended a relationship and will move into a new home. I'm pooped. It's a lot to take in all at once, but I feel like all of it, every bit (well, except Isaac getting sick), was meant to be and is for the best. I'm nervous about being a single mother, but I know I'm not alone. I have an amazing support group of family and friends who will make sure I have more than the help I need. And I know (hope) that John will play an active role in his son's life. I also think the breakup will probably help my relationship with John. I was back at the house last night packing, and we were able to get along fine, probably better than we have in the last couple of months. I do worry about the day Isaac comes home and says, "But dad lets me drink pop and play in the street..." or we face some other discrepancy in our parenting styles, but I figure I can't worry too much about that kind of stuff now. I have plenty to worry about now; I can worry about everything else when the time comes.

And being at my parents' house this week has been more of a blessing than the burden I thought it was going to be. At midnight last night, after trying (and failing) for hours to get Isaac to sleep, my parents took him into their room so I could get a couple hours of much-needed rest. I have so much support, and Isaac has so many amazing family members who love him and want to take care of him. I couldn't be more blessed or more grateful.

Monday night, after helping one of his employees move, my dad came into the living room with this tiny golf club, a putter no more than two feet tall, and said, "This is Isaac's." I think he had made it (he used to have a little shop in Sand Springs where he made golf clubs years and years ago before we moved to Houston) for my brother, but I have no idea where, after all this time, he found it. But he's keeping it in their bedroom until Isaac is old enough to go to the driving range with him. It's the club he'll use to teach Isaac to golf.

I know everything will work out.

But, rather than end on a high note, let's include today's happenings:
I dropped my phone for the last time. the flip top broke free from the phone and it's done. Completely. Then, as I was leaving for lunch, I heard something scraping the ground behind my car. It was my phone charger. It had fallen out of my backseat and I ran over it. The plastic pulled away from the wires and then the cord snapped in two.

At this point, I'm just being really, really careful. I feel like I've had all of the emotional and technological bad luck I can get, and the next thing to happen will be physical. I'm nervous I' going to trip on a crack in the sidewalk and break my leg or something.