Recently, my partner, Tom, took a trip from Friday to Monday, leaving me to care for our three young kids—ages 7, 5, and 3. This wasn’t just a minor inconvenience; it felt like an overwhelming challenge, a source of anxiety that loomed over me. Tom needed some time away to go fishing with his brother, who had been going through a tough patch, and while I completely understood their need for a break, I was still filled with apprehension.
Cooking is not my strong suit; I tend to rely heavily on convenience foods. When left alone, my meals usually consist of yogurt, protein shakes, and the occasional salad. To prepare for his absence, Tom had cooked up a storm, making paleo brownies and egg casseroles, and stocking the pantry with kid-friendly instant meals like mac and cheese and toaster pancakes. He made sure I had the essentials: bread, coffee, and half-and-half, along with plenty of lunchmeat, juice, and snacks. It felt like he had planned every detail to make this solo parenting stint manageable.
I’ll be candid: I don’t function well without Tom. Managing my mental health—depression, anxiety, and ADHD—creates additional hurdles. My medication often leaves me fatigued, and I find myself needing a nap most afternoons to keep from crashing before the kids do. Minor parenting stressors can quickly escalate into overwhelming situations for me. For instance, clutter and mess trigger my anxiety, and without a consistent routine, I tend to spiral into panic. When I’m stressed, I can become irritable, leading to moments of yelling, which goes against our attachment parenting principles. The guilt that follows is unbearable.
On the first evening without Tom, I made a blunder by leaving the ATM card in the machine and driving off, leading to frustration. My 7-year-old handed me a drawing that read, “YOU ARE NOT AN IDEEOT MAMA.” Normally, Tom would have reassured me, helping me find the card and calming my nerves. Instead, I searched my minivan multiple times before finally locating it the next morning, feeling both relieved and ridiculous.
Then came bath time for my middle son, Max, who despises having his hair washed. I offered him a choice between a bath or a haircut, and to my shock, he opted for the latter. I thought I was being cautious with the clippers, but without a guard, I ended up giving him an uneven haircut. My eldest son joked that Max looked like a balding historical figure, and instead of laughing it off, I found myself in tears. Tom would have managed the situation with humor and grace, preventing the tears from flowing.
The next day was a bit better. We visited a barber who fixed Max’s hair, and we even braved the farmer’s market, though I ended up buying an overpriced stuffed animal as a way to cope with my anxiety. I canceled plans for a babysitter because the thought of going out without a plan felt too daunting. Tom would have encouraged me to go, probably suggesting I wear something stylish and artsy.
While I manage solo during the weekdays as a stay-at-home mom, I thrive on routine. Knowing when Tom would come home provides a sense of stability, especially during the chaotic “witching hour” when we’re wrangling our energetic kids into bed.
Long stretches of unstructured time without Tom make me anxious. My medication also requires that I rest, and when it wears off, I can become irritable without realizing it until it’s too late. I often tell myself that I can hold out until Tom gets home, and even when he’s away, the promise of his return calms me.
The kids constantly asked when Tom would be back, which only intensified my feelings of inadequacy. They eventually reassured me that they loved both of us equally, a sentiment I desperately needed to hear.
It was the small, unexpected challenges that really tested me. Our internet went out one evening, and I felt overwhelmed trying to fix it. When Tom called, I was in a fit of rage at the cable company, and he calmly guided me through troubleshooting the issue, ensuring the kids could continue watching their favorite show. I struggled to operate the TV in my own bedroom, a humbling moment for someone who prides herself on being tech-savvy.
Loneliness crept in as well, amplified by my anxiety about potential break-ins. I made my large German Shepherd sleep in my room out of fear, despite worrying he might chew on the furniture. I triple-checked locks and found myself in tears over a friend’s comment about something I had written, wishing Tom were there to comfort me.
When Tom finally returned, we went out for lunch, and he took the kids to the zoo while I caught up on sleep. A sense of order returned to our home. Although the house wasn’t spotless, he cooked a proper dinner, and I didn’t have to deal with impulsive decisions like a botched haircut.
While Tom had an enjoyable time away, the emotional toll of his absence was significant for me. We can manage without him, but he is an essential part of our family, and I’m not shy about acknowledging that.
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In summary, I find immense value in my partner’s presence, and I embrace the reality that I am not meant to do this alone.