You May Think There's Nothing To It, But I Simply Cannot Do It Alone

In case I needed another sign that I probably shouldn't have children, I got a taste this week of what it's like to be a single parent.

My husband left Saturday morning as part of a coalition of photo- and video-journalists heading to Washington, D.C. to chronicle the inauguration of our new president. It was a very exciting opportunity for him, so I was glad, albeit a bit jealous, that he got to go. But I was also pretty apprehensive about being left behind.

At five days, this trip would be the longest amount of time we've spent apart since getting married (and probably the longest since we started dating, since we worked together at the time). It seemed like an eternity!

I felt a little silly for feeling that way. Just a few months ago, my sister was alone for seven weeks when my brother-in-law had to go out of town for job training. Five days is nothing compared to that.

Truly, it wasn't so much the days that bothered me; it was the nights. I had plenty of work and activities to keep me busy every day, but when the sun went away, the loneliness set in. There was no one there to have dinner with me or discuss the events of the day, and I got ready for bed every night knowing no one was there to say "goodnight" or "good morning."

And then there was the matter of Stella. For five whole days, I would have sole custody. I was the only one who would be around to take her out, feed her and play with her. I was the only one who would be around to make sure she wasn't chewing up the rug or grabbing pieces of laundry to hide with under the bed.

Alright, so maybe it wasn't exactly like being a single parent. Truthfully, it wasn't that big a deal except for the potty schedule. Stella is a little dog; she can hold it for several hours, but I'm sure she gets pretty uncomfortable after awhile. So as her only caretaker, I had to stay up a bit later than usual, get up a bit earlier than usual and leave her at daycare when I went to work (meaning leaving earlier and getting home later). And even three days of it took a toll on both of us. At the end of the day, we'd come home and collapse on the couch together, practically comatose until it was time to get tucked in for the night.

But somehow, those hours, the hours that would have been the most lonely, ended up not being so bad. Sure, Stella didn't ask how my day was, but she was always thrilled to see me when I picked her up at day care. She didn't help clean up the kitchen after dinner, but she licked the tile floor companionably while I wiped down the counter. And she didn't say "goodnight," but she curled right up in her crate without argument when I told her it was bedtime. So the dog I thought would be a burden to care for by myself ended up being the one who kept me company and got me through that five days.

So maybe having kids wouldn't be as difficult as I think. Not because it's not difficult, but because in the end, the return is worth the time and effort. Maybe I wouldn't mind the responsibility, because children are their own reward.

Maybe.

As long as my husband never leaves town again.