An ex-Catholic and a lapsed Muslim have made the unconventional decision to settle in an Orthodox Jewish community, where they are raising their only child. It might sound like a punchline, but we embody that quirky family dynamic—the non-believers with a unique child. Let’s be honest, only children can evoke a certain unease, reminiscent of horror movie tropes.
Here in our neighborhood, summer feels like a deserted landscape. Families have retreated to their beach homes or enrolled their children in extravagant all-day camps, where they master skills like macramé or horseback riding. Back in March, while camps were being booked, I envisioned crafting dandelion crowns and soaking up the sun. Yet here we are, two rounds of Monopoly deep, and both my daughter and I are less than thrilled. I find myself juggling the roles of mother, playmate, sister, and cousin, and it’s equally dissatisfying for us both.
I often think it would be beneficial if parents of only children could temporarily rent a sibling for the day. Imagine picking up a pretend brother on the way to the beach and returning him afterward. This idea would be especially useful during those summer excursions to amusement parks—avoiding the dizzying rides would be a welcome relief!
Haven’t we done enough throughout the year? Sleepovers, organic lemonade stands, playdates, birthday celebrations, piano lessons, swim classes, and tennis sessions have filled our calendar. I even succumbed to the allure of Russian Math, thankfully drawing the line at Mandarin lessons. The competition doesn’t stop at the kids either; I was persuaded into Pure Barre classes—exercise designed for affluent women—and even invested in trendy workout gear. I now resemble a character from an ill-fated 80s music video.
I’m exhausted from trying to keep pace with suburban expectations. Can’t we just take a breather? Wouldn’t it be nice if my daughter could simply chase around the lawn sprinkler? I’d prefer not to engage in conversations with the slender mothers clad in strapless sundresses, discussing the latest OPI pedicure shades while she learns coding on her laptop. I long to sink into my rickety Adirondack chair, sipping non-organic hard lemonade and enjoying 70s soft rock, legs unshaven—just like my mother used to do.
I understand it’s dull for her. There are few playmates available. I didn’t have to consider such things growing up; I had siblings and neighborhood friends to engage with, a small tribe that roamed freely until dusk. We dashed barefoot to buy Rocket Pops from the ice cream truck, funded by our piggy banks.
In an attempt to remedy the sibling absence, we welcomed a puppy into our home. However, I quickly realized that puppies are not ideal for spontaneous summer outings or beach days.
This summer doesn’t seem destined to be filled with cozy firepit gatherings or marshmallow roasting. I asked my daughter what could transform this summer into the most magical experience of her six-year life. Without hesitating, she declared, “Building an Elsa castle.”
And so, we are constructing a cardboard Nordic castle in our driveway. “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” she cheerfully sings. Not really, but I dive in anyway. If we build it, perhaps those pony-riding, computer-coding kids will want to join us. At least, that’s my hope, as I take another sip of hard lemonade.
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In summary, the challenges of raising an only child in a suburban setting can feel isolating, especially during the summer months when activities are often limited. Building imaginative projects may be the key to engaging both parent and child, while also fostering connections to the outside world.