What people don’t understand about being a single parent
The state of being a single parent, or being the child raised by a single parent, or even the whole concept of single parentdom — it’s not ideal.
But, beyond the cliche, I’m not sure people understand why it’s difficult. So, let me break it down.
Until your kid is able to be left to their own devices there is no break.
Wherever you need to go. Whatever you need to get done. It’s you and the kid.
There are times when I may mindlessly scroll my phone, but I can’t go for a walk, nip to the gym, go for a swim or meet a mate.
And, if I’m not looking after the little one, I’m working.
Those work days start around 6.30 am. Enough time for me to get up — get kid washed, clothed and dressed ahead of childcare starting at eight. Some days I need to be 25 miles away for work in Newcastle, some days I log on from home.
The childcarers pick the kid up from school at three. I pick the kid up from them around five-thirty. Then it’s a dash through cooking, eating, washing and generally starting that process of calming them down enough so they will contemplate bed then sleep.
Later, whatever the official bedtime is — you’re liable to have 30 minutes to an hour afterwards of: “Can I have one more bedtime hug?”, “You forget to sing me the song!”, “I can’t find Snuggles Bear” — anything, ANYTHING, to delay sleep.
Afterwards, if you’re lucky, you may get an hour before you need to go to sleep yourself.
At weekends she has swimming on Saturday and gymnastics Sunday. They break up her day and stop her from becoming too bored and irritable. Either way, she’s still sick of the sight of me by Sunday night.
In the meantime, I spend about four hours on a Saturday trying to get the house vaguely clean and tidy while washing clothes for the coming week.
That night we have our big dinner together. I cook something nice and have my week’s intake of maybe two alcoholic drinks.
It’s just us. It’s not unusual to go entire weekends without adult conversation.
That’s not to say that I don’t have family help. Mum and Dad are amazing and pick her up Tuesdays and often take her for a few hours on Saturday. My sisters will always help if needed.
I recently turned down a rare invite to an evening with old friends in Newcastle. The little one is in various forms of preschool and post-school childcare almost every single weekday. The night out would have needed me to stay overnight in the city. It didn’t seem right to leave her again.
If you don’t spend enough time with your kid, they make you pay. Spend too much time with them and they’ll hate you and tell you as much.
Holidays are the same dynamic in a different location but with less support.
Work means I don’t do school gates pick-ups anymore, so I don’t meet other mums and dads. I don’t make those parental alliances that might lead to play dates or a kid-friendly social circle.
I occasionally swipe through dating apps but I’m very aware that although I might be able to meet up (if anyone was asking), I don’t see how I could find time to build a relationship.
With one parent, one child — you have little backup. You can’t outnumber them. You can’t good cop, bad cop. You can’t give a partner a break. You can’t duck out when you’ve had a bad day. Critically, you can’t make them do anything they don’t want to. You persuade, encourage, bribe, beg, plead and sometimes lose your temper.
The kid gets all of you — not the best of you. You can’t bring on a sub when you’ve run yourself into the ground.
It still takes a village to raise a child and I’m lucky to have family, great childcare, understanding bosses and a fantastic local school. But I’m the parent. Just me and there’s so much she should ideally have that I just don’t have time for.
