It’s been the best of times. It’s been the worst of times.
Okay, let me try that again – without lifting from the Literary Greats: It’s been a good few weeks, and a rough few weeks.
Sometimes, there’s just not enough of you to go around. The kids (whatever their ages) want your attention. Your partner (whatever your status), likewise.
And there are conflicts. Painful, joyful, conundrum-inducing collisions in wants and needs and priorities.
You remind yourself there is only one of you. You sigh heavily (again) that there are only 24 hours in a day. You concede that the migraines come from stress, that the body needs some amount of sleep, and that you can’t possibly please everyone all the time, much less take care of yourself.
But the conflicts between partnering and parenting are pulling you apart.
Sometimes life trots out a surprise when you least expect, and for me, that surprise is a good man, a good relationship, and good timing – at last. This very Nice Guy dropped in on my life at the tail end of a decade of solo parenting. Had we met even six months earlier, I doubt he would have stuck around.
I couldn’t have participated in building the relationship we share. I wouldn’t have had the focus or energy.
Finding Time for Relationships
Dating after divorce is time-consuming and challenging. Developing a relationship? Even more so.
As to bringing a partner into your family sphere? A new person means a changing dynamic. And nothing about the process is a given.
My kids were teenagers, but suddenly they weren’t the only “men” around the house, or at the table, or in my heart.
Kids Take Everything, and Then Some
If we left it to them, kids would drain us of every ounce of mental and physical energy we have. I believe we allow this. I believe it is partly our current cultural propensity in which the pendulum has swung too far toward some theoretical “perfect parenting” – which is neither possible nor advisable.
I also believe that children put incredible strain on marriage. But that discussion is for another day.
And for the single or solo parent?
There’s guilt, guilt, guilt. Guilt that we weren’t able to save the marriage. Guilt that we aren’t spending enough quality time. Guilt that we haven’t the money to allow them to do what their friends are doing, or simply order a large pizza for dinner because it isn’t in the budget. It’s single parent guilt that drives us to be more permissive. And solo parent exhaustion, that grinds us down.
Habitual Parenting Worries
My sons are a treasure, an enigma, and an ongoing source of concern. (Just like your kids?)
I worry about them less actively when they’re at college, perhaps because I know there’s nothing I can do to help them through their days, except hope they exercise good (learned) judgment.
I also recall my own college years. I was more than capable of taking care of myself.
Kids – Do I Know You?
Naturally, as my boys grow into men, they’re more independent and more private. I know less and less about them, and what’s happening in their lives. I ask a few questions, and take what I can get by way of answers.
But sometimes they actually want to talk, and it isn’t always at a convenient moment. I’m due to be somewhere else. I’m writing. I’m working. I’m about to leave and meet my man.
And I’m conflicted.
Parenting Regrets
Some delightful dinners in the past weeks have created new memories, sparked old ones, and spotlighted significant regrets. So many years were spent trying to keep the household afloat, there was less “me” to spend on chatty meals or other assembled family time. I was too worn, too stressed, too busy working, or all of the above.
Ironically, a man around the house seems to encourage more social activity for us as a foursome. Yet it also creates exactly the increased pressures and expectations that I’m feeling now, and addressing here.
Everyone Wants a Piece of Me (And Not)
Cue these recent weeks, and another weekend in which the Good Man wanted to see me, and all I wanted – to be alone.
Reading or sleeping. Nursing my headache. Writing a little.
I took the same “just say no” approach with him as I did with the kids, trying to restore a little calm and control by setting limits. Rather than spending an entire weekend together, we enjoyed one evening and the following day – and it was lovely.
But.
When I needed to write, he was still chatting and I felt torn, and guilty. When I insisted on a pocket of quiet and didn’t get it, I blew a fuse, and felt guiltier. When I was talking with him, I sensed more pull for my attention from one of my sons. This isn’t the first time and it’s all quite subtle, but the result is that I’m frazzled, frustrated, and feel like a failure at tending to anyone’s needs, much less my own.
Older, Wiser, And So?
Lately I feel my patience, my perspective, and my ability to see anything clearly being tested.
Last evening, after a nice dinner with my nice man, I sent him home and settled into my room – desperate for absolute quiet. I was crawling into bed with a book when my younger son popped in and said “Hey Mom, how about we order a pizza and watch a movie?”
I was stunned. And torn.
And got out of bed.
Dinner and a Movie
I grabbed an organic pesto and cheese from the freezer (in budget and healthier), popped it in the oven, and 20 minutes later my son was propped on my bed, remote in hand, munching on pizza from a tray, and zapping. He found a film on cable. We watched together until after midnight.
It was relaxing and comforting. But why last night? Why that moment?
Self-Flagellation with a Side of Bread and Water
Was my son bored? Was he feeling neglected? Did he sense something in me that desired a connection with him – and one which I enjoyed, despite being tired? Or was it a whim, a spontaneous gesture, and I should leave it at that?
This morning I have some much needed “alone time” and lists of tasks that have been interrupted at every turn since mid-December. Critical tasks. Try as I might, I’m struggling with the stamina and emotional fortitude to give my sons what they need when they’re here (now rare) and simultaneously, give a good man what he needs.
Conflicts and Conclusions
I’m doing a wretched job of it. Of being “enough” for my sons in the small window of time we have together, and in seeing and hearing who they are becoming. I’m distracted. I’m off my game. I’m conflicted.
Soon, both boys will head back (and forward) into their respective new worlds. But I’m no less saddened by what I consider a mediocre maternal performance, and the sense of missed opportunities not only these past few weeks, but in recent years.
And yet, I don’t know what I could have done differently.
I think we’re often the hardest on ourselves, but that being said, I also get what it’s like to need time to write or read, or just any alone time, but not being able to fully indulge in it because of someone else’s needs. So what do we do? Put aside our needs for theirs or have them wait and feel guilty for making that choice?
Like you, I don’t have the answer. So we struggle every day with each decision.
A small pocket of time for ourselves. The constant self-questioning. Exactly, Justine. Thank you for getting it.
BLW, I say relax and breathe and just let everything flow and don’t think too much about it all. I have lived to see my life flow organically. Last night after babysitting for my three grandkids who live down the street my son and I talked in colder weather outside for a half hour about life and what we expect and I brought up some issues for us to talk about and think about. It was one of the most satisfying conversations and it happened organically based on our day (we attended the same funeral). It got me worrying about my will and once I talked my concerns over all was find and I was assured where I needed assurance. I often have these deep conversations with my son when they are not planned. It took me a long time to realize that everything happens the way it is supposed to and I can control very little.
I know it’s best when it happens organically, Madge. You’re so right. But it’s harder for it to happen organically when I’m not emotionally available. Or considerably less so. Or perhaps have never been to the extent that I should have which, I realize, is a contradiction with my belief that we worry too much about our children these days in some respects.
Then again, look at the world. Good reason to worry, no?
I enjoy your writing and respect its quality and your reliability therein. I also admire your efforts for your family. But, if I strive to put myself in your shoes, I would find myself saddled with this reliability and consistency, particularly of getting my posts out and connecting with friends/audience. I look forward to the day when we hear nothing for a day or two, worry a bit (as friends should), and then get a simple and unapologetic one-word post: WOW
Actually, I’m more like you than you might imagine. But I’ve been able to break with it at times, wonderful times.
I hear you, Paul.
I think that guilt comes with parenthood, at least for women. But I tell myself that guilt is a useless emotion. Another coach I know posed this question to a group, and I think it’s a good one: Who were you before you started putting everyone else’s needs first? Can you even remember?
Just because we’re parents doesn’t mean we’re not human. We love our kids and do the best we can. And they survive. They even thrive. If they had to live through some adversity growing up, they will be better equipped to handle adversity as adults. And to truly appreciate when life is good. As for making time for ourselves, it’s essential. If we want to function, we need time to recharge. We shouldn’t feel guilty about that, we should communicate with our families so that they understand that they only get the best you if they give you time for you.
But we always have a choice, and sometimes we choose to put our kids ahead of ourselves, and that’s O.K. too. Just remember that you can always choose your response, and feel empowered by that ability to choose. I’m not saying that I never feel guilty, I definitely do. I just try my best not to let it win!
Helpful questions, and excellent points, Donna.
Come to think of it, I can’t remember the “me” before I put everyone’s needs first. That one requires some serious consideration. Thank you for that.
I so often think of that best and worst of times notion, a sort of quantum integration of opposites that threaten to tear us apart while at the same time filling us with life spirit. It is these very conflicts and tensions of what pulls upon us that urge us to strengthen our interconnections and, as kind comments above indicate, realize that we’re all in this together, all doing our best, all falling short… and all loving and loved (the knack is in making it all more conscious and more compassionate). Maybe we’ll eventually make it beyond the “me” and the “them” into a deeper trust in the “us.” For me it’s not particularly about how much time and with who, but how I wish to feel: soft, playful, present, resilient… but alas I’m also sometimes melancholy, stressed, pulled in so many directions. Here’s to more feeling alright and less concern about getting it right.
Identify times a million.
Time for Baby. Time for Daughter. Time for Eldest. Time for Boyfriend.
Time for me? It just doesn’t feel good. Well, not afterwards at least. Every time I dedicate time to myself, I can’t help but feel like I could have spent it better later. And depending on my overall health and mood that thought can really overtake and destroy every good feeling I’d enjoyed just a moment before.
It’s up to us to tell it to shut up.
“It’s up to us to tell it to shut up.”
I love it, Supermodel.
Oh, yes. December was a month of saying yes (by necessity or choice) to everyone else’s needs and priorities and barely meeting my own. The needs of kids do stress a marriage, especially when someone is feeling needy themselves. But when do my needs come first? How to I create space for my quiet without yelling first? (Which just ruins my quiet time with frustration.)
I’m trying to be more conscious of my own needs this month. But trying is just fancy for thinking about it and failing. Sometimes life is too full. And often those are wonderful times (as long as we get enough sleep and a moment of quiet here or there).
Maybe the holidays exacerbate all of it, Kate. Your mention of creating space for quiet – without yelling – it’s a perfect example of how extreme the need is to carve out that tiny place that is ours, so we can better appreciate that “fullness” that you speak of. (Do you manage it? How do you manage it?)
I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s said that once parents meet their kids’ basic needs, there’s little they can do to influence how they turn out. It makes me less crazy to believe this.
I always feel better after time alone. It makes me think I should schedule it, let everyone know in advance, and keep to it. Like the Sabbath.