Someone on facebook asked if it was hard to be a single parent. Or maybe it was is it it harder to be a single parent. I didn’t answer there because in truth, I’m not a single mom, I’m just playing one at home for the nonce. And it is hard and harder. You don’t have a partner to shoulder the drama, the homework, the chores, the decisions, and so on. And I expected that. But what I didn’t expect with the sort of mental and emotional exhaustion that comes from being the one. My kids are really good kids. They help out, they do their homework, they are sweet, and though they have moments of upset, they are mostly fairly happy-go-lucky. Even so, it’s hard to be the one that fixes everything, answers everything, is company, is the boss. There’s a new phrase in my house: Careful, or mom will go banshee on us.
I didn’t realize how much emotional and mental burden The Man carried just by being present. Not that things are easy on him. He’s got to struggle with being alone and not getting to see us every day. The best part of the day for me is going to tuck the kids into bed (and not just because they are going to bed and the house will be quiet–shush), but because I can snuggle and talk to each of the kids separately and it’s always a good moment.
The good news is that he’s coming to visit for a week next week. Providing things don’t fall through on the job end of things. Can’t wait. Haven’t told the kids. They will be so surprised.