Last year, during a week off from my medical practice, I unexpectedly found myself with a rare moment of solitude at home. My spouse, Sarah, had taken our two older children out, leaving our infant, Lily, peacefully asleep.
If you were to inquire about my ideal getaway, I would jokingly say, “A cozy couch and a pizza all to myself.” Yet, there’s a grain of truth in this jest. As a parent to three kids under nine, I frequently crave that elusive alone time. I imagine all the things I could accomplish without the constant buzz of children around. My home would be tidier, I’d have the opportunity to exercise more, and I could indulge in films that don’t feature animated songs on a loop. I could read, socialize, and carve out a life that isn’t exclusively focused on parenting.
Many parents share these sentiments, and it doesn’t stem from a lack of love for our children. I adore my kids wholeheartedly. Rather, it’s the reality that there’s no “off” switch in parenting. With limited breaks, the desire for personal time grows stronger. However, when that precious time does arrive, an unsettling feeling can wash over you. It’s a peculiar blend of guilt and anxiety about not being productive or feeling neglectful.
For instance, with Lily napping and the older kids occupied, I decided to start a mindless action flick on a streaming service—something I rarely indulge in since Sarah isn’t a fan and the kids are too young for that genre. Yet, as I watched, guilt crept in, leaving me uncertain about what I “should” be doing instead.
This internal conflict arises each time I find myself alone. I yearn for that time, but when it comes, I often find myself fretting. Shouldn’t I be devoting that time to my family instead? It feels like something vital is missing in their absence. It’s a frustrating paradox that I suspect is tied to the transformative experience of parenthood.
Having been a father for nearly a decade, I’ve managed to maintain two hobbies: cycling (though I feel that slipping away) and writing. I try to write each day, but only in the early hours when the house is quiet, sparing myself from guilt over taking time for my own interests. I can only imagine how perplexing this might seem to those without children. Yet, this is the reality of parenting—it can be all-consuming.
My children are my greatest passion. I think about their needs, worries, and joys, and my writing has become a reflection of that. Interestingly, while this may sound like an obsession, it’s not a problem; it’s simply the essence of my life now.
I recall watching a documentary titled The Other F Word, which explored the lives of former punk rockers navigating fatherhood. A quote from Flea, the bassist of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, resonated deeply: “My kids gave me life. You know? They gave me a reason.” I feel the same way about my children. Reflecting on my life before them, filled with movies and aimless hours, shows me I was missing out on true fulfillment. The joy of teaching my son to ride a bike or helping my daughter learn to write far surpasses any personal achievement I once valued.
This sentiment explains why, when I do get alone time, I often feel unproductive. Parenting is inherently demanding and rewarding, and though it can be overwhelming at times, the satisfaction of guiding my children through life is unparalleled.
When Lily awoke during my movie, it was a relief. I turned off the screen and went to her. She reached for me from her crib, her hair tousled from sleep. As I settled her pacifier, I asked, “Did you miss me?” Her gentle touch reassured me. “I missed you too,” I whispered back.
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In summary, while parents often yearn for alone time, that very time can trigger feelings of guilt and unproductivity. The all-consuming nature of parenting makes it challenging to embrace solitude, even when it’s desperately desired. Ultimately, the joys of parenthood and the fulfillment it brings overshadow the fleeting moments of solitude.