As someone who thrives on social interactions, I often find myself drawn to solitary work. My background as a writer has set the stage for this inclination, and for eight years, I ran a cleaning business that kept me largely alone. I cherished that solitude, allowing myself to dive deep into creative thoughts while immersed in the sounds of Howard Stern, NPR, and ESPN Radio streamed through my smartphone. During those six-hour listening marathons, I felt entertained and informed, free to wander through my imagination. Being alone never translated into loneliness for me.
However, several months ago, I made the transition to being a stay-at-home parent. With three children, my partner and I concluded that it made more sense financially for me to care for our twin boys while our daughter attends preschool. Now, my early morning writing sessions are the only time I truly get to myself. Even though I’m often surrounded by our energetic dog and two rambunctious toddlers, I experience a sense of loneliness at least part of each day.
My boys and I have established a routine that includes playgroups, trips to the library, Costco runs, and visits to the park. While we encounter other families, our interactions often feel too brief to fulfill my social needs. Even when I bond with fellow parents, not everyone shares my lifestyle or sense of humor. I respect the more cautious and serious moms, but I find it difficult to relate to them. Sometimes, I indulge in a drink at noon, mutter under my breath about my kids’ antics, or even sneak away for a moment of quiet. Not every mother understands my parenting style.
I adore my boys, yet some days I crave space. At night, I worry about how quickly time flies and whether my frustrations as a full-time caregiver overshadow the joy of parenting. I feel guilty about my impatience, knowing I’ve missed chances to relish in their hugs, laughter, and the comforting weight of them on my lap.
Most of my family members work throughout the day or live too far away for playdates, which leaves me seeking companionship within my digital community—a village that resides in my phone. While I can still enjoy radio programs, the constant interruptions from my toddlers make it less enjoyable. Every activity is disrupted by their boundless energy and inability to focus. I know this is just part of the process, yet it’s challenging to engage in adult-like activities when they are around.
So, I engage with my boys, read stories to them, wash the dishes, and prepare meals. I pray they take decent naps, and during the brief moments of calm that come throughout the hour, I turn to my phone. I can’t embark on the home projects I’ve been longing to complete or delve into a captivating book. Leaving the room is nearly impossible without two eager helpers at my heels.
I scroll through Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, skimming articles and news headlines. I post pictures of my children, share content, and craft witty updates to maintain a semblance of my former self. These online interactions help me cope with the boredom and loneliness that accompany being home with kids. In those fleeting moments when my boys don’t need me, I find distraction from the longing to engage in activities that seem out of reach.
I also connect with other parents who understand the daily negotiations with toddlers and the challenge of dedicating everything to my children while feeling drained. I read articles that validate my feelings and laugh at relatable memes that capture the absurdities of parenting. Beautifully penned pieces remind me that I’m managing just fine while inspiring me to strive for improvement.
While scrolling, I find support in the voices of fellow parents—many of whom I’ve never met—who resonate with my unspoken thoughts and my desire for connection. I wouldn’t trade my role as a parent for anything, but I am also human. My phone serves as a lifeline to sanity and the vibrant world that exists beyond the walls of my home.
I’m a social being, yet I’ve once again embraced the work of isolation. The digital community reassures me that this phase is temporary and encourages me to embrace every moment, whether joyful or challenging, because it will pass quickly. The likes and retweets remind me I’m not alone. So, whenever I feel isolated, I reach for my phone to ease the loneliness.
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Summary
In this article, Taylor Morgan reflects on the transition from independent work to full-time parenting. While she enjoys her role as a stay-at-home mom, she grapples with feelings of loneliness and the challenges of connecting with other parents. Her smartphone becomes a crucial tool for maintaining a sense of community and sanity, allowing her to engage with other parents and find solace in shared experiences.