On Single Parenting or Solo Parenting or Whatever The Heck It Is That I'm Doing
Reflections on Parenting Without a Partner
My oldest son turns 10 in a few weeks which feels like a milestone for a lot of reasons – not the least of which is that it means I’ve now been a “single mom” for more than half of his life. The phrase “single mom” still doesn’t roll off my tongue. I can’t quite get to the point where it feels like an accurate description of who, or what, I am. A few years ago, I applied to a writing fellowship for single parents and the whole time I kept thinking, “I hope they don’t find out I’m not a real single parent.” But I am, by any and all legal and conventional definitions of the word, a single parent.
When I changed my name after I got married, it took years for it to feel like my name. I’d start introducing myself and my new name would get stuck in my throat. But then I got divorced, and all of the sudden my married name felt like it belonged to me. Maybe that’s what will happen with the label “single parent.” Maybe I’ll only really consider myself a single parent when I’m not one anymore.
One reason I struggle to embrace the term “single parent” is that my boys have another parent, a father who is very involved in their lives. They spend 50% of their time at “Dad’s house” and he is as much a part of their lives as I am. I have to admit it’s odd knowing that my kids spend half of their lives living in a house that I used to own but haven’t set foot in for years.
An aside: it took me years to refer it as “Dad’s house.” It still feels a little like my house. After all, I was the one who found the listing on Zillow and emailed it to my (now ex-) husband with the subject line “Is this the one?!” I was the one who picked the paint color and most of the furniture, much of which is still there. When our marriage fell apart, I wanted to sell the house but he wanted to stay. So one afternoon I sat in a wicker chair on our front porch and signed my share over in front of a notary I’d never seen before and have never seen since. It’s funny to think that when I sat down the porch belonged to me and when I got up it no longer did.
Sometimes I feel less like I’m a single mom and more like I’m raising double kids. My boys have two houses, two beds, two bookshelves with completely different books on each of them. They have two closets and two dressers but it’s the same mesh shorts and hoodies that travel back and forth between Mom’s house and Dad’s.
What is it like to grow up with two houses? I don’t know. It wasn’t my story, and the people I know who grew up with divorced parents didn’t have a situation that required so much back and forth. Fifty-fifty co-parenting is fairly new in the scheme of divorce. A lot of people still assume that my kids spend more time with me than they do with their dad and at first they did. As they got older we evened out the schedule until it was equal and most of the divorced people I know have done the same. Long gone are the days when it was common for dads to only see their kids every other weekend and holidays.
The other night the boys and I watched the movie E.T, which was a good reminder of how much has changed for divorced families over the past few decades and how much has stayed the same. When the school calls home to ask if there is anything going on that might explain Eliot’s strange behavior in school, his mother explains that she and Eliot’s father “recently separated.” This is a plot line that slipped right by me when I watched the movie as a kid. It seems fitting though that soon after his parents separate Eliot finds an alien in his backyard, begins to feel the alien’s feelings and then devotes himself to helping the alien find his way home to another planet. (It just occurred to me that Eliot Taylor is also an “E.T.,” a detail which I’m guessing was not an accident.)
Watching E.T. as a divorced mom is a completely different experience than watching it as a child. It’s Eliot’s mother, Mary, who I identify with now. I don’t have her shaggy blonde hair or a job that requires me to wear a three-piece skirt-suit to work, but I recognize her expression. Throughout the movie Mary walks around with a haunted look on her face as if she is expecting something to jump out at her at any moment. I remember that uneasy feeling in the early days of separation.
I feel for Mary. Her husband has left her and she’s raising the kids on her own now. Her heart is broken and her home is being invaded by aliens but she gets up every morning and tries to be the best mom she can anyway. In one scene, Eliot offhandedly mentions that his dad is vacationing in Mexico with his girlfriend and Mary steps away from the dinner table and starts washing dishes so that her kids don’t notice that she’s crying. How many times have I done some version of that same thing? More than I’d like to admit.
When E.T. came out 1982, only around 2% of divorced couples shared custody 50/50. So maybe it's because I grew up in the 80’s that Mary is the type of person I think of when I think of a real single parent; someone raising their kids entirely on their own without any help or any breaks. I see myself in her but I know that my story isn’t her story.
Some people prefer the term “solo parent” to describe those of us who raise our children with the help of a co-parent. That term doesn’t feel quite right to me either. When I hear “solo parent” all I can think of is the documentary Free Solo, where that brave and awkward man scales El Capitan on his own without a net or any ropes and – well, now that I put it that way, maybe solo parent is an apt term to describe what it’s like to parent without a partner.
Parent without a partner. I used to have a partner. Now I don’t. I am un-partnered. An un-partnered parent. That, right there, feels like the truest way to describe my life right now. I’m not a single mom or a solo mom. I’m an un-partnered parent.
Society isn’t set up for us “un-partnered parents.” Our systems and policies are built around the “rule of one,” or the assumption that children are “indivisible” and therefore must be claimed by one parent. Tax credits and the FAFSA, health insurance and school registrations all require one address, one person who declares a child as their sole dependent. Fifty-fifty custody is more common now, but the idea that a child can be equally dependent on two parents who live in two separate homes is still, well, alien. Studies show that children who spend significant time with both of their parents are generally happier, more confident, and less stressed out than those who don’t. Still, I watch my boys and I wonder what the long-term impact of living a “double life” will have on them. I wonder what impact raising kids this way will have on me and I haven’t seen any studies on how losing half of your time with your kids affects parents.
There are advantages to sharing equal time with a co-parent, of course. There are days when I’m free to focus on my interests and my friendships. Quiet mornings, just me and a warm mug of coffee, when I can sit by my window and watch people walk by as the sun streams in on my face. Weekends when I can clean the house and go a full 72-hours before everything is a mess again. Nights that I can stay out late and not worry about getting up early the next morning.
But there are disadvantages to parenting this way too and the disadvantages feel heavier most of the time. My life is constantly switching between intense periods of parenting by myself and stretches when I’m all alone. This constant back and forth leaves me with whiplash that I never have time to recover from. I still haven’t figured out how to fall into a comfortable rhythm with it.
Then there is the aloneness of parenting on your own – the reason that the words most commonly used to describe us are “single” and “solo.” The aloneness is not quite loneliness, though there is that sometimes too. It's just the constant awareness that in some real and fundamental way I am on my own, even when my kids are with me. When it’s time for the boys to go to bed, I turn off the lights on the first floor, lock the front door and I get in my pajamas too. There’s no reason for me to come back downstairs – no one to watch a show with or talk to about my day or the upcoming election or the funny thing one of the boys said earlier. So after the boys are safely tucked into their beds I climb into mine. I catch up on my texts, finish up my New York Times games, read a book or maybe meditate before falling asleep. It’s a lovely, sweet routine and I’m not complaining. But sometimes I miss the safety and intimacy that comes from knowing that there is another adult who is present and awake and in the same house.
Then there’s the burden of being responsible for a whole household by yourself. The cleaning, the finances, the groceries, it’s all on me all of the time. There is no one to pay the electric bill or empty the dishwasher. There is no one to make dinner or stand back and tell me if the painting I’m hanging is straight. There’s no one to drive home from the party or to grab the other end of the couch when it’s time to put the Christmas tree up.
Aside: One of the best things I bought after my divorce is a rolling dolly that helps me move heavy things from one place to another by myself. I highly recommend this for any un-partnered person, although it has become apparent to me that I like moving furniture around more than most people do.
All of this responsibility can be stressful but it can also be empowering. I don’t have to ask anyone else if they want to go before I RSVP to an invitation. I don’t fold laundry for anyone except my kids and myself. There’s no one I need to consult before making a big purchase or transferring money to a different account.
One last aside: married couples, please, if the fights you have are fights about money, just stop. Every time you disagree about money just pretend that the money you’re arguing about is being used to pay for your divorce lawyer or the mortgage on a second house and I bet whatever the argument was about won’t feel that important anymore.‘
When I try to explain this aloneness (aloneliness?) to people, they usually say something like, “But you’re not alone! There are people who love you and are there for you!” And they are right and they are wrong. I know that there are people I could call if I really needed something and I’m grateful for the friends and family who have supported me through some of my lowest moments over the past five years. But the truth is that in my day-to-day life I am mostly either alone-with-myself or alone-with-my-kids. Either way, I’m the one responsible for everything it takes to keep my life running smoothly every day.
I recently saw an Instagram post for single moms that said something like, “Believe it or not, one day you’re going to miss the days when it was just you and your kids.” And you know, I believe that, I really do. Sometimes I can already feel my future nostalgia for this chapter of my life. I’m guessing there will be a time when I have a partner again. I know there will be a time when the boys are grown-up and don’t live with me or their dad anymore. That time is ticking closer each day. Just a few weeks ago I took the kids paddle boarding and my almost-10-year-old wanted to row. For a while I sat down on the board as he rowed us from one side to the lake to the other and I watched the water twinkle around us and just soaked in the moments when I didn’t have to be the one doing all of the work. One day I’ll probably be glad that these days are behind me but I know I will miss them too.
I’ll miss the nights when it was just the three of us watching a movie and eating ice cream on the couch or reading a book under the covers before bed. I’ll miss the mornings when the boys curl up on either side of me and we pass my phone around, taking turns typing in our Wordle guesses for the day. Our life together has a warmth and a coziness and an ease that I’m not sure would have been possible if their dad and I were still married.
I recently discovered that the word “partners” has more than one meaning. Partners can be “people with shared interests and investments” but it can also be “the heavy beams of timber that steady a ship’s mast.” Perhaps that is the best way to explain what it’s like to live life without a partner. You keep moving even though you’re missing the thing that is supposed to keep you steady when life gets rough.
There are partnered people who don’t have this kind of support either, of course. There are married people whose dynamic is more like the wind that shakes the mast than the beams that hold it in place. I know because I was one of them once. This ship is mine and mine alone to sail now but the winds aren’t as strong as they used to be. Storms don’t come as often and when they do come I know how to keep myself safe. And I know how to do it on my own.
Love this one. ET connection kinda blew my mind. Makes me want to watch all of my fav childhood movies and consider the parents perspective now that I am one 😂
Great essay! I could totally relate. My son is older now--last year of high school. But everything you describe...the way things don't seem set up for single parents, the particular emotions that accompany this journey--well seen. Just shared as a note as well.