Solo-parenting shouldn’t be a massive deal to me. Lots of people do it 24/7, without choice. But I write about it anyway, because nothing quite makes me feel more like a parent than four in the morning after days of sleep deprivation, running between two waking children, scrubbing sick out of the carpet, and feeling like all I want to do is sit in a corner and fall apart.
I am pathetic with people being sick. When Sam is here I make him deal with the sick and I find excuses to be in another room. I have been known to launch Arlo off my lap at the first sign of a gagging noise. So, because Arlo hadn’t had a tummy bug since he was 15 months old, and because Sam was away, obviously it was bound to happen that I would be woken by a puking child at 1am. And I had to man up and deal with it. Every half an hour until the sun started to rise.
Other great things about Sam’s week away were: Arlo deciding that 3.30am was the new morning time, every day. A 12 week old baby with a cold. No more than three hours broken sleep a night. A barely functioning parent.
So, that was fun.
It was meant to be a week of quiet evenings and getting stuff done. I wanted it to be a week full of fun activities for Arlo. Instead, it turned into a week of survival. And YouTube.
All parenting standards went out the window (not that I have many anyway) as I allowed Arlo to watch as much YouTube as his heart desired. YouTube for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Thomas collections, unpacking Thomas trains, opening Thomas kinder eggs, Thomas episode reviews.
His new favourite phrase is “Hello YouTubers”.
It was nice having the double bed all to myself though.