Confessions of a Single Mum

‘Do it yourself’ is the mantra of single parents everywhere. As a single mum of two daughters, aged seven and fourteen, I know I have to rely on myself if I want anything done at all.

When I set out to write about being a single parent I had a good idea of what I wanted to say. It was going to be very balanced – an essay type argument – with a clear list of pros and cons. You can imagine the style; a punchy introduction, a few positives, a smattering of negatives, all building up to the conclusion that sure, parenting alone is tough, but it also brings a whole host of benefits.

So I sit down to write. On the first page I get as far as a heading. I actually write ‘some things that are great about being a single parent’ at the top of the page and prepare to brainstorm. I stare a while at the bright white blankness of the page, perfectly reflecting the blankness of my mind.

I can think of plenty of reasons why I’m particularly glad not be co-parenting anymore with my ex – no clash in parenting styles, no more crying and shouting in front of the children, no more begging him to take them out just for a couple of hours and then feeling too guilty to enjoy my time alone. They aren’t hugely positive though. I realise they aren’t specifically reasons why I love parenting on my own, more like reasons I’m glad to be out of a damaging relationship. I guess when your options are limited to being alone or being with a partner who sucks away your very essence then single motherhood does seem appealing.

I fantasise briefly about the as yet undiscovered third option, the one where we frolic as a family in sun-dappled woodland with a Brad Pitt type father figure who, on our return to our family home, lovingly prepares dinner for us all before running me a bath and supervising wholesome craft activities with a cluster of adoring children. The fantasy doesn’t do much to inspire me in my quest for the joys of single parenthood and I feel temporarily at a loss. Surely if I can’t think of any positives then I should be miserable? If mothering alone really has no perks then why am I not ready to stick my head in the oven every time I cook a dinner that is guaranteed to be rejected by at least one of my two children? 

I may not have found my happily ever after yet but I am far from fed-up. I am quite content being the sole breadwinner, housekeeper and distributer of cuddles. Not having a partner often makes things simpler for me and my inner control freak quite likes the fact that I always get the final say. I do find myself from time to time overwhelmed by the responsibility of it all, but on the whole taking the lead feels natural to me. Although I’m not sure my eldest daughter really understands to concept of authority. “I never really think of you as a parent,” she revealed recently “I just thought you were in charge because you were the tallest.”

Bringing up children on your own is tough, there is no denying that. There is no one to share secret proud glances with at school plays, no one to share the tedium of cooking, washing and badly written bedtime stories. If you want things done, you most definitely have to do it yourself. Does being part of a couple though actually half the workload? I’m not convinced. I would bet that the majority of women would, if they were really honest, say they had the lion’s share of the responsibility for the children – doctor’s appointments, dental check-ups, school trip money, presents for birthday parties – how many women find they are ultimately the ones in charge of all these dull day to day duties? If not actually doing them then co-ordinating them. At least as a single parent you never expect anyone else to share these chores with you, so you never end up disappointed or resentful.

And then it dawns on me. Single parenthood may not have many unique positives going for it, other than those that come with being single generally like taking up the whole bed and the satisfaction of knowing you only have yourself to blame when you run out of milk, but that doesn’t mean the joys of parenthood generally don’t still apply. The unconditional love you give and receive, the arms flung around your neck and the shower of kisses you get for no other reason than that you are mummy. Perhaps not so applicable for a 14 year old, but still, you get the drift.

So thinking about it, maybe I wasn’t so far off the mark with my plan for a balanced argument, as the all consuming nature of single parenthood does work both ways. Sure most children’s books are dull – I have never really been one for storytelling – but being the sole provider of bedtime stories does make you sole beneficiary of goodnight kisses and proclamations that you are loved ‘to infinity and beyond’, which in my book more than makes up for the mountain of washing and pile of dirty dishes I have waiting for me downstairs. Besides, I will just make one of the kids do the washing up in the morning – now that really is the best of both worlds.

Jo Middleton is a freelance journalist and single mother. She lives with her two daughters in Somerset, UK.

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