a single-parent day

Today is what I call a “single-parent day.” A single-parent day is a day that really reinforces the fact that I’m the only adult in my household.  It doesn’t matter what I want, what I need, or how I feel.   My littles still need me to function enough to get dinner going and facilitate the evening.

I wanted to do was drive straight home from work, put on sweats and pull the blankets over my head.

But. No.

I’m the only adult in my house.  So, I have to adult.

Every day. No choice. Not adult-ing is not an option.

I stopped at the store and got necessary items.  

When I got home the kids promptly turned off the video games.  They picked up their messes when I asked and went to play in their rooms, where they wouldn’t be noisy.

I love my littles.

I picked up the kitchen and started making dinner. 

It’s Wednesday.  Pancake night.  Easy dinner.

As I pulled clothes out of the dryer I realized this was the first single-parent day I’ve had in a very long time.  A year ago every day was a single-parent day.  It was a trial to get through every day.  

Every day was hard.

I can’t remember the last single-parent day I’ve had.

I marveled at this as I dumped the clothes on the ever-growing pile of clean clothes.

Today was hard.

Is hard. 

I want nothing so much as someone to kiss my forehead and hug me tight. 

Hugging a warm pile of clothes works.

Kinda. 

Yeah, not really.

I realized that even though today was a single parent day, it still wasn’t quite so overwhelming.

The eldest took care of the chickens. I didn’t have to.

The boy took out the garbage. I didn’t have to.

The littlest fed the dog and started the dishwasher. I didn’t have to.

All this was done before I got home from work. Amazing, my littles.

“All” I needed to do was make dinner, do the dishes, are facilitate our evening routine.

And keep the laundry going. 

Because. Laundry.

So, even though today is a single-parent day, even though the world is too much and all I want is no responsibilities and no one to take care of, it's not as bad as it's been.  

Oh, the emotions are still there. 

I’m exhausted, my neck and shoulders ache, and I'm three and a half minutes from tears..

I’m counting down the minutes until I’ve tucked-in the smaller two and switched the laundry one more time so I can lock up and go to bed. 

Because.  Laundry.

Sleep will not come easily, never does. But curling up under my pile of quilts, surrounded by my pillows and listening to a good book will be enough.  Going to bed alone won’t add to my list of sorrows.

And tomorrow I’ll wake up and do it all again.