“Hey Mom! What are you doing in there?” My 4-year-old’s muffled voice called out from the other side of the bathroom door.
“Nothing! Just…umm, nothing! Going to the bathroom? I need some privacy please!”
“Then why are you sitting on the floor reading a magazine?” The door swung open, and her head popped in. I thought I had locked it this time.
“Oh, I’m just gathering ideas for our pretend beauty shop!” I said, quickly standing up and brushing off my yoga pants. “Now, let’s find those scissors!”
Of course, that was a fib. I wasn’t researching beauty shop ideas at all—I was hiding from her because she’s simply relentless. Just that morning, we had read countless books, completed so many puzzles, and played Candy Land until I heard imaginary voices giving me commands. I was in the middle of an imaginary perm when I desperately needed a break.
This game of hide-and-seek started last September when both of her older siblings began attending school five days a week. This is all uncharted territory for me. I don’t know what it’s like to raise an only child, or at least, I don’t remember it. My kids are 4, 5, and 6, and just as I was getting used to one, another would pop up asking, “Hey, wanna play?”
Yes, having three kids close in age presents its challenges. The fact that I rely on my daily dose of Zoloft for trips to the grocery store is no coincidence. At home, though, my parenting responsibilities are fairly minimal. I call them when dinner is ready, strap on their bike helmets, and see them again at bedtime. Together, they build fairy houses in the yard, ride scooters in the driveway, or (let’s be honest) bicker like wild animals for the neighbors to witness while I enjoy a book on the patio in peace.
But this year is different. My youngest now attends preschool three days a week, so for two full days, it’s just me and the 4-year-old, and it’s non-stop. I had no idea how exhausting it would be.
“Sure, once we finish this stack of books, we can read every other one on the shelf 50 times!”
“Of course we can play some more! Everyone knows the first 15 rounds of Uno are just a warm-up!”
“Absolutely, let’s play ‘Mom Is a Jungle Gym’ again!”
There’s no escape. There’s no off switch. It’s as if she’s tracking me like a lioness. She can sense my presence behind the closet door.
What I find fascinating is that all my friends with only children often express guilt about their decision to stop at one, feeling they took the easy way out.
Good news for parents of one! I have conducted some field research and you can toss that guilt right out the window along with any hope of sneaking away for a quick moment of bathroom peace during the day.
Despite its challenges, this one-on-one time with my youngest has allowed me to truly see her as an individual, not just as the younger sister she is when with her siblings. We do puzzles, work on letters, and have uninterrupted conversations. It’s strange. I envy parents who get to know their only child in such an intimate way from the start.
The silver lining is that this time alone with her has motivated me to slow down and make an effort to carve out one-on-one time with my other two kids as well. Not anytime soon, mind you, but someday—once I’ve had a chance to catch my breath.
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In summary, while parenting an only child comes with its own unique set of challenges, it also offers a profound opportunity for connection and understanding that I’ve come to appreciate, even amidst the chaos.