I am bone weary these days ever since dh took an out of state job over 1600 miles away and I became a functional single parent. Yeah we talk, text, and Skype every day, he listens to my problems and offers sympathy and solutions, yadda, yadda, yadda. But can he wash the dishes piled up in the sink because I am working all day? Can he help corral the kids into pajamas and bedtimes at night? Can he make dinner, buy birthday gifts, plan play dates, wash the laundry, and sort out the tangled finances all after a long day of work and still get to bed before the wee hours of the morning?
Here's the thing: nobody can. Which is why effective parenting is, IMHO, a two person job. So when one of the parents suddenly disappears from the equation, what's a mom to do? There is no way to gloss over the undeniable reality that being a single parent is hard. Really hard. And beyond the pure physical exhaustion of constantly moving, planning, reacting to one "emergency" after another, the most difficult part for me is the toll it takes on my kids. I am tired. And when I am tired I am really cranky. I am not, as they say, "parenting with intention" but rather struggling to survive. Ugly words and mean voices tumble from my lips. The antics of my otherwise adorable little children are suddenly irritating and grating instead of quirky and amusing. My son's bedtime "accident" triggers a knee-jerk groan of disapproval followed by a litany of complaints, not the unconditional acceptance and gentle instruction that he needs. My daughter's request to do an art project, such as make a princess veil together, elicits a heavy reluctant sigh instead of the quiet happy joy of knowing that my little girl wants to include me in her world of make believe. When the children want another story, another chance to practice their ABC's and phonics, I am too tired to comply. Instead of jumping on that bandwagon of early preschool learning, I am face down on the dirt road of exhaustion with my children left to their own devices by the wayside.
There are days I can't keep my eyes open, when I fear for my life trying to drive home bleary eyed and half asleep. There are days when dinner for me is a pipe dream because I can't stay awake. Even now, I have fallen asleep at least three times while typing these words.
But the real victims of our messed up work schedule ultimately isn't me. It's my children.
