“Hey Mom! What are you doing?” My 4-year-old’s voice echoed from the other side of the bathroom door.
“Just… umm, nothing! I need some privacy!”
“Then why are you on the floor reading a magazine?” The door swung open, and there she was, peering in. I could have sworn I locked it this time.
“Just gathering some ideas for our pretend beauty shop!” I quickly stood up, brushing off my yoga pants. “Now, let’s find those scissors!”
Truth be told, I was not researching beauty shop activities; I was hiding from her. She is relentless. That morning alone, we had read countless books, assembled who knows how many puzzles, and played Candy Land until I thought I might start hearing things. I was in the midst of an imaginary perm when I desperately needed a break.
This game of chase began last September when my two older daughters went to school five days a week. I find myself in unfamiliar territory; having an only child is something I don’t fully grasp—I don’t remember it. My girls are now 4, 5, and 6, and just as I was getting accustomed to one, another popped up, asking, “Hey, wanna play?”
Sure, having three close in age presents its challenges. The fact that my daily dose of Zoloft often aligns with grocery shopping is no coincidence. Yet at home, my parenting duties are mostly on autopilot. I simply open the toy box and call them for dinner, strap on their bike helmets, and see them again at bedtime. They build fairy houses in the backyard, race scooters in the driveway, or, let’s be honest, engage in fierce battles like wild cats while I enjoy a book on the patio.
But this year is different. With my youngest attending preschool three days a week, I now have two full days where it’s just me and her. I had no idea how exhausting that could be.
“Sure, once we finish this stack of books, we can read every other one on the shelf 50 times!”
“Absolutely, let’s play some more! Everyone knows the first 15 rounds of Uno are just a warm-up!”
“Of course, let’s play ‘Mom Is a Jungle Gym’ again!”
There is no escape. I feel like I’m being hunted in my own home. She can sense me even through the closet door.
Interestingly, many of my friends who have only one child often express guilt over their decision to stop at one, feeling they’ve chosen the easier path. Well, good news, parents of one! I’ve conducted my own research and you can toss that guilt out the window, along with any hope of sneaking off for a moment of peace in the bathroom during daylight hours.
Yet, despite the challenges, this one-on-one time with my youngest has allowed me to truly see her as a unique individual. We can sit, work on puzzles, practice her letters, and have uninterrupted conversations. It’s a peculiar experience, and I find myself envying parents who have had the opportunity to bond with their only child so intimately from the start.
The silver lining is that this time together has inspired me to prioritize one-on-one moments with my other two daughters in the future. Not right away, of course—once I’ve had a chance to recharge.
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In summary, while parenting an only child brings its own set of challenges and rewards, it also highlights the beauty of individualized interactions and connections that can be forged.