The Mommies, Esquire have each had stints where our husbands have had to take extended leaves of absence for work, leaving us to hold down the fort. As a result of our own experiences through the years, we have great admiration and respect for single mothers….working mothers….single/working mothers….stay-at-home mothers….stay-at-home-working mothers….just mothers in general. As one of our friends recently stated (who recently went from single woman to stepmother of a six-year-old girl), “Mother’s Day should be celebrated more than once a year.” Amen sister.
Says Julie:
So my husband has taken a job six hours and a whole state away, and I’m going on a month now that I’ve been a single, working mama to three young children. It is not for the faint of heart. Knowing that there is no relief pitcher….no co-pilot….no understudy….can be a bit daunting. Downright overwhelming. Parenthood is a job that was never intended to be a solo gig. Seriously.
The first afternoon I was home alone, I decided to be organized (something I must decide to do and for which skills do not come naturally) so I took to chopping vegetables and meats to “put up some casseroles in my freezer.” My Poppyseed Chicken nearly became fingertip chicken when I darn near amputated my index finger slicing an onion. After bleeding through 3/4 of a box of Hello, Kitty bandaids, I finally stopped hemorrhaging, but not before realizing my vulnerability of being home alone…all the time…with three very needy and completely dependent children. Later that night we brushed up on our 9-1-1 skills and “what to do in case of an emergency” scenarios. Just in case.
We should have tuned into the weather channel, however, when we were having those emergency drills because the temps dropped into the low teens overnight and my fingertip injury must have caused some oxygen depletion to my brain causing me to not think it necessary to leave faucets dripping. As a result, I woke up to frozen pipes and not even a drop of water for my morning shower. Sadly, my first thought was not of concern as to how I would fix breakfast for my children but rather one of jubilation that I’d remembered to fix my coffee before bed. Coffee first, everything else second. So I hit the “brew” button and called Andy….six hours away….to ask what I should do. I knew I had a potential serious problem on my hands…I just didn’t know what to do about it. Turns out neither did he. But luckily his Dad did and came to my rescue later that morning and was able to repair one of the pipes that burst. So, not that anything would have happened any differently if Andy had been here….except that I wouldn’t have been worried alone. When you’re worried it really does matter if you’re alone.
I already have a greater appreciation for my husband since he’s been gone and I’ve been doing this alone. Ok….so maybe I’m not tripping over his shoes in the middle of the night. The house is a little neater and there aren’t wet towels thrown on my bed. When clothes are washed they immediately go into the dryer and don’t sit for days and mildew. But all those things seem somewhat insignificant when the trade-off is not having my best friend’s shoulder to lie my head on when I’ve had a bad day. Or my co-pilot there to help me decide on appropriate consequences fora smart mouth…or tempter tantrum….or both. Or my relay partner to hand off the baton to when I’ve run all I can run.
Give me the wet towels any day.
