I called March Break “March Broken” — only somewhat jokingly — because I felt like I was constantly disappointing someone.
Freed from the burdens of Primary and preschool, forced to colour at home instead of in a group setting, our kids were primed for adventure. I didn’t sign them up for the half-day rec camps like I’d originally planned, and that was probably a mistake. I thought I wanted a week where we didn’t have to rush out of the door just after 7 a.m., but caring for them 24-7 while also self-employed left me cranky and drained.
It was the dates, you see! They wanted dates! Solo dates with me and only me, and not their sibling (or their father, for that matter).
When you have more than one child, there is an extreme amount of pressure to spend solo time with each of them. This is especially complicated when you and your spouse work mostly opposite hours. Sure, you’re not paying for childcare, but one of you is always “on duty” with both kids.
It doesn’t leave a lot of time for the one-on-one connections you read so much about in those guilt-inducing parenting books. (OK, who am I kidding? Online articles. The last parenting book I read was What To Expect When You’re Expecting.)
And so I dated. I went on so many dates over the 10 days of March Break (which was supposed to be nine — damn snow day) that I felt like my profile must have been posted on Plenty of Fish …