Adjusting to Single Parenting with a 2 Year Old and 4 Month Old: Real Tips I Learned After 4 Years Together
I’m standing at the kitchen sink at 7:12am, coffee gone cold in the mug I set down 20 minutes ago. My 4-month-old, Lila, is strapped to my chest screaming because she just spit up down my only clean t-shirt, and my 2-year-old, Jake, is climbing the pantry door trying to get to the Goldfish crackers I hid on the top shelf after he ate three full packs last Tuesday. Three weeks ago, this kitchen had two coffee mugs by the toaster. Now there’s just mine, and the other cabinet where his dad kept his protein powder is empty.
The first two weeks after we split, I tried to keep everything exactly the same. I made homemade sweet potato puree for Lila every Sunday, cut Jake’s fruit into bite-sized chunks every morning, folded every piece of laundry the second it came out of the dryer, and stuck to the 30-minute maximum daily screen time rule I’d sworn by before. Everyone I talked to gave me the same vague advice: take time for yourself, be kind to yourself, everything will work out. I tried the “take time for yourself” bit once, 10 days in: I drew a bath after both kids fell asleep, got my hair washed, and was halfway through shaving my legs when I heard a thud. Jake had climbed out of his crib, dragged the step stool to the bathroom closet, and dumped an entire 8-ounce bottle of baby lotion all over the carpet. I sat on the floor next to the mess and cried for 45 minutes before I even got a paper towel.
It wasn’t until Lila’s 4-month checkup that I started to figure out what actually works. I mentioned to our pediatrician that Jake had started biting, throwing more tantrums than usual, and clinging to my leg every time I tried to put Lila down. She didn’t give me any fancy advice, just said that Jake is two, he can’t process that his dad isn’t sleeping down the hall anymore, and asking him to “be a big boy” right now is asking too much from a kid who still can’t put his own socks on. That clicked. I’d been so focused on keeping everything running smoothly for both kids that I’d been asking Jake to grow up six months faster than he was ready for, just to make my life easier.
I went home that day and put together a “nursing bin” from a dollar store storage bin I had in the closet. It’s full of things that only come out when I’m sitting down to nurse Lila: a new sticker book, a set of small toy dinosaurs, pipe cleaners to bend into shapes, and a few lollipops I save for extra fussy days. Before, when I sat down to nurse, I’d tell Jake to go play by himself and get frustrated when he clung to my leg or tugged on Lila’s blanket. Now I hand him the bin as soon as I sit down, and he knows it’s his special time with special toys. It doesn’t work every single time, but it cuts down on 80% of the tantrums we used to have during nursing sessions. I stopped saying “be a good big boy” and started saying “can you play with your dinosaurs for 10 more minutes? Then we’ll go outside together.” It’s a small change, but it makes a huge difference.
The next thing I let go of was all the non-essential chores I used to do to keep the house “perfect.” I used to spend 45 minutes every morning making fresh food for both kids. Now I buy pre-cut apple slices and pre-made puree from the grocery store. That extra 30 minutes a day lets me sit down and drink my coffee while it’s hot, or catch up on one load of laundry instead of letting it pile up. I don’t fold every single piece of clothing anymore. I keep a pile of clean clothes next to the couch, and we just pull what we need from it when we need it. Some nights we eat chicken nuggets and fries for dinner three nights in a row, and no one has gotten sick yet. I loosened the screen time rule too: if Lila is having a fussy growth spurt day and I need an hour to just rock her without chasing Jake around the house, he can watch an extra episode of Bluey. It’s not the end of the world, and it keeps all of us from losing our tempers.
I also stopped saying “I’m fine” when people ask if they can help. The first week, my neighbor texted me and said she wanted to bring over dinner, and I told her I was fine. Two days later I ran out of formula at 9pm, and had to drag both kids out in the rain to the gas station to get more, which ended with both of them screaming and me forgetting to buy toilet paper. Now when people offer to help, I give them a specific, small thing to do. When my sister offered last week, I asked her to pick up a gallon of milk and a pack of diapers on her way over. When my friend texted last month, I asked her to come over for an hour after dinner so I could take a long shower without worrying what Jake was getting into. Most people want to help, they just don’t know what you need, and giving them a small job is way easier for them than guessing.
Some days are still terrible. Last week Lila had a fever, Jake pooped his pants in the middle of the grocery store, and I cried in the parking lot for 10 minutes after I got both kids strapped into their car seats. I still forget to return calls, I still have a pile of unopened mail on the counter, and some nights I fall asleep on the couch before I get the dishes washed. I don’t have this whole single mom thing figured out yet, and I probably won’t for a long time.
But these small, low-fuss changes have made the hard days a little easier. I stopped trying to be the mom I was when there were two of us, and I started being the mom I can be right now. That’s enough, for today.
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