Double agent

I go both ways

Every week, I’m two people. They’re related, yes, and I’m getting better at blending them. But in the first half of the week, I’m on duty for school drop-offs, midnight laundry when I realize there’s no clean uniforms, remembering drum sticks for lessons, and thinking about things like screen time and snacks. And then the second half, my son is with his dad and while I still manage many kid logistics, my house is weirdly quiet, I get to be social without a babysitter, and I sometimes sleep in to a whopping 8am. (Every so often, I’ll lie in bed texting and writing emails until 9. Imagine.) I feel like a double agent, because at a moment’s notice I can talk kid-shit and single person-shit. Most of my friends exist in one or the other sphere, so I also have people I tend to see in only the first or second halves of the week.

On the pros side, I have time with my son to myself, I plan around just us, we make our home feel and operate the way we want it to. Then, the time to myself is a wonder. I rest after the physically taxing, busy, and over-stimulating days of full-time single parenting. I have to ask, “do you have to go potty?” less.

Cons… well, who wants to feel like they lead two lives? I am on the hook for everything all at once for 3-4 days/week, which can look like dinner burning because he’s yelling that the water’s going up too high in the toilet. Plus, I think my son is under the impression that the house cleans itself, because most of it happens when he’s not here. As does the grocery shopping, various errands, and my appointments.

I’ve gotten used to tailoring our time around him, a symptom of both the Covid era and being a single parent. Our time is almost exclusively kid shit and I schedule life’s necessary boring shit on my time. If I only have a few days with him each week, why would I “waste” it making him wait with me in line at the pharmacy?

But it’s had the effect of him not being incorporated into my life. He’s the center of my universe for a few days and then I stumble around off my axis figuring out the rest of life on my own for a few days. He’s physically present in my world half of his time and even then, he’s not invited into what I assume will be boring to him. It doesn’t come naturally, to me anyway, to tell him about my day over dinner. I ask about school and Mario Maker (no I don’t, he tells me without my asking). It’s a huge disservice to us both, I’ve come to realize, and not least because of the massive amount of brain space and logistics it takes to make sure that I only ever tackle a to do list when he’s otherwise occupied.

Last week, out of the blue, he asked about my new travel planning role. He said, “you were telling someone that you’re planning trips for people but what does that mean?” I felt put on the spot! Why was he asking? What had he heard? I said, “well, you know how I love to plan our trips? I get to do it for other people now, too. Not everyone likes to do it, plus we’ve been lots of places, so I get to help other people go on fun vacations.”