In a recent episode of his show, comedian Mark Jennings quipped, “New rule: Married couples who have spent years quietly feeling sorry for single people, particularly those of us without kids, should answer this question: How do you like me now?” Well, Mark, I can confidently say that we’re not fans of your perspective.
“We” refers to those navigating the chaotic world of continuous family time during this pandemic, a relentless social experiment testing the limits of sanity. When we envision your life, Mark, we picture you indulging in naps, whipping up sourdough, binge-watching shows, participating in Zoom yoga, painting accent walls, and diving into books. We think your biggest issue is simply being bored.
Ah, boredom — a privilege of the childless, or “childfree,” as some prefer to be called. You’re right; we’ve come to appreciate that distinction during these challenging times. You have the freedom to be unoccupied.
One of your kind remarked to me recently, “I’m so bored, I just took a one-hour hot shower.” Another asked, “Should I get Hulu? I’ve nearly exhausted Netflix.” Yet another pondered, “I’m thinking about writing a book. If not now, when?” Just as I was channeling my pandemic anxiety into resentment towards your lifestyle, a single-and-childfree friend texted me: “It’s just so lonely.”
Then came the unexpected: “Honestly, spending a day with a kid sounds kinda fun.” That’s when it hit me once again that the grass is always greener on the other side.
At the start of lockdown, I found myself longing for my pre-child existence. With the mandate to stay home — something I believed suited my introverted nature — I was unable to fully enjoy it because my two-year-old was determined to prevent me from reading, watching shows, baking, napping, or doing anything except entertaining her.
But I recalled my days as a single person without children. Every weekend, I would sink into a mild depression, struggling to find motivation to get out of bed. My days were wide open, yet I felt overwhelmed by the possibilities and ended up doing very little. Sometimes, I would venture to the grocery store and, while chatting with the cashier, realize I hadn’t spoken to anyone in over a day and a half. I always looked forward to Monday when I could return to work and have a purpose.
I know that if I were single and “free” during this pandemic, I’d probably feel a bit like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. It wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Now, as a parent with a spouse and a full-time job, I’m perpetually exhausted and irritable, but I also have a reason to rise each day. My life is filled with purpose — perhaps too much of it.
This pandemic has forced us into extremes. Those with partners or children are experiencing nonstop family time with no reprieve, while those who are single and childfree are grappling with isolation, fulfilling their lifetime quota of solitude. What we all seek is balance. I crave alone time because I have none; if I were isolated, I’d yearn for the company of others (even a group of toddlers would seem appealing). The extremities we face amplify our desires.
Understanding this nuance doesn’t stop me from rolling my eyes when my single-and-childfree friends talk about their bubble baths. I still feel envious and sometimes irritated when they say, “Call me when you’re free,” as if such a state is achievable for me right now. But I do my best to make those calls. Their yearning for connection often clashes with my burnout from socializing; still, I try.
Even Mark Jennings might be feeling a bit lonely these days. Not lonely enough to consider having children, but perhaps tempted by the idea of adopting a few kittens. Now that’s an image!
If you’re navigating similar feelings, you can find more insights in this related post on home insemination. For those interested in exploring options for starting a family, check out this comprehensive guide. Additionally, if you want to delve deeper into fertility topics, the Women’s Health site has excellent resources.
In summary, the pandemic has unveiled the struggles of both childfree individuals and those with families. Each group faces its own set of challenges, leading to a mutual longing for balance. Understanding these experiences can foster empathy, even amidst the chaos.