I was catching up via text with a close friend from my childhood. She’s a single mom thriving in a bustling city, balancing a rewarding career and her energetic daughter. Meanwhile, I’m settled in a quiet rural town, happily married with three kids. Our lives have taken us on vastly different paths, and somehow, we ended up discussing how often we get to socialize without our little ones.
I confessed to her that I hardly ever do. Between juggling two jobs, my free moments are devoted to my family. She, on the other hand, makes it a point to enjoy nights out with her friends, whether at bars or concerts. “I lead a good life,” she texted. “I earn well and have a reliable sitter. It’s important for me to maintain a balance for my sanity.”
Her words made me feel a bit downcast. When was the last time I had gone out with friends? It had to be months—maybe even a year. We’re both in our mid-30s, and while I cherish my friendships, they seem to have slipped down my priority list. Should I be prioritizing time with friends more? (And maybe cutting back on family time?)
This isn’t to say either of us is doing anything wrong. From what I can see, she’s a fantastic parent. Yet, I found myself puzzled by how she managed to balance her daughter’s activities, a demanding career, and still maintain a social life.
As I pondered how to carve out time for friends, I stumbled upon an article by Sarah Finch, titled “I Value My Friendships, But Family Comes First.” She articulated the struggle of choosing family time over social outings, emphasizing the fleeting nature of childhood.
For those who thrive on socializing, this might feel stifling. But for me, as a father working over 50 hours a week, it resonates deeply. I often leave the house before my kids wake up and return home long after they’ve gone to bed. Business trips pull me away for days, leaving me with little more than brief phone calls and blurry video chats to connect with my loved ones.
Every time I travel for work, I relish the uninterrupted sleep, make a few acquaintances I likely won’t see again, and learn a thing or two. But above all, I miss my family—their cuddles, the warmth of holding their tiny hands, and the kisses from my partner. I also hate knowing how overwhelmed she feels managing three young kids alone. I want to be there for her, to lend a helping hand. I genuinely enjoy being a dad and a husband, embracing the chaos that comes with it, even when it’s overwhelming.
Being a working parent means spending considerable time away from home to provide for my family. So, when I finally return, I want to contribute more than just financial support.
That’s not to say my kids don’t drive me crazy at times. I come home to find them half-dressed, and my wife frazzled, and I sometimes reminisce about the quiet of the office. Yet, while at work, I find myself thinking about my kids and smiling, longing to hold them tight. I look forward to watching my son score goals on the soccer field or helping my daughter with her math homework.
There’s a deep desire within me to nurture them into remarkable individuals. My connection with my wife has evolved into a strong partnership. We still share romantic moments, but we’ve also become an efficient team. I understand her, and she understands me, and together we’re ready to tackle everything from spills to diaper changes. I cherish her company more than anyone else’s, and I feel genuinely content when we’re together.
Just last week, we had a family movie night watching Trolls. The living room turned into a dance floor, with everyone joining in except my too-cool-for-school son. My youngest twirled her pigtails while my middle daughter showcased her ballerina skills. My wife and I danced side by side, and even my son couldn’t help but beam at the scene. It was far more delightful than any concert or night out could ever be.
Honestly, it’s tough to walk away from those moments. Spending so much time apart only to socialize with others feels unnecessary when I genuinely want to be with my wife and kids. I don’t see this as boring or uncool; rather, I’m deeply enjoying this phase of their lives, aware that it will pass all too quickly.
As Sarah Finch concluded in her article, “I apologize if I miss out on some events. I will likely miss plenty. I only have a limited time to choose these little ones because soon they won’t choose me.” I feel precisely the same way.
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In summary, while I miss my friends, my heart is firmly planted with my family. The joy and fulfillment I find in these moments far outweigh any social outing I could attend.