Single parenting: a learning experience ~ November 9, 1995

David Heiller

I’m a single dad these days. My wife, Cindy, has gone away to help her mom recover from cancer surgery.

Her absence makes me appreciate many things.

David and I were partners, which made my many weeks away from my family so very
hard. Funny, there are really no photos from that fall. 
We all survived with lots of love and understanding. Well, maybe not the house!

When I think about how hard it is being a single parent, I think back to my own childhood. My dad died four months before I was born, so Mom raised us eight kids by herself and with the help of her mother, who lived upstairs.

I can’t get Mom to reminisce about those good old days much, maybe because they weren’t so good. But when she does, she always mentions how Grandma was there to help, how she couldn’t have done it without her.

Lately I’ve been thinking about Cindy in the similar manner. I couldn’t do this single parent thing very well.

Our family life has evolved into certain patterns, and those patterns are all askew now. For example, Cindy supervises the kids’ homework, and now I’m doing that. It’s a lot of work, but I like it.

It’s a good time to sit face to face with the kids and go over any problems they are having in math, or to help them review social studies for a test. We often talk about other things at that time too.

Cindy makes them practice their instruments, and I’m doing that. Well, some of the time. I don’t always remind them to practice, and they don’t remind me to remind them, although Noah did remind me to remind Mollie to prac­tice her piano. Funny, he didn’t remind me to remind him to practice his trombone.

I’m now in charge of rousting them up in the morning at 6:15, and making breakfast and seeing that their teeth and hair are brushed, their faces washed (and is Mollie’s hair dirty?), and making sure their school bags are packed without any forgotten gloves or books, and making them cold lunch if they want it, and getting them on the bus at 7:15. Whew. It’s tiring just thinking about it.

I’m in charge of cleaning, which has suffered the most. I’m getting a glimpse of what our house would look like if I wasn’t married. It isn’t pretty. I call it the Norwegian Bachelor Farmer look. Everything appears all right, if you aren’t wearing your glasses. On closer look… Well, don’t take a closer look.

I’m in charge of supper, of which I can prepare one meal: eggs and potatoes and onions all mixed together in a frying pan with a pound of butter. I raided the garden one night for brussel sprouts. That was a big improvement. Yeah right, Dad.

Fortunately for the kids, and for me, people have sensed my dire cooking straits and sent home some fabulous food, like soup and spaghetti and tapioca pudding and meatloaf and bread and rolls and coffee cake and banana bread and cookies.

You see a lot of kindness in emergencies like ours. One friend even sent a note from her winter home in Arizona. “If I were home, I’d have cooked some fattening thing for Dave to take home for supper,” she wrote. “Thank you for sharing your sad news, giving people like me (us) an opportunity to pass on some of the kind­ness shown us in the past.”

That kindness is much appreciated.

Family photo.

The kids have taken on more responsibility in Cindy’s absence. Chores that Cindy and I might have done before, like washing dishes or vacuuming or folding laundry, they are now being asked to do, and they aren’t complaining about it. They know there are only 24 hours in a day, and that I can’t do it all. They know their grandma is sick, and that their mother is gone, because they miss her very much.

As do I. Cindy and I call each other two or three times a day, just to check in. I’m not much of a phone talker. The silences that come in a normal conversation don’t translate well for me over the phone. But it’s different talking to Cindy.

We tell each other about our days, about something the kids said, some incident from work, or how the tractor worked in the woods. It’s idle conversation that we might normally have over a game of Scrabble, or while riding to work together. But now nothing is normal, so we chat on the phone.

I’ve got a hunch that things will return to their old routines soon enough. Cindy will be heading home this week, I hope. In the meantime, it’s been a learning experience for everyone, and a time to appreciate what we often take for granted.