I was scrubbing dishes one evening when my partner, Lisa, strolled into the kitchen with her planner in hand, a stack of papers following close behind. “Did you realize the kids have two days off next month for fall break and a teacher in-service?” she asked.
“What? We just kicked off the school year! Why do they need a break already?”
She shrugged and waved the school calendar at me. “I have no idea, but we should check the schedule and figure out our plans for when the kids aren’t in school.”
With a groan, I finished the dishes and pulled up my calendar on my phone. As Lisa opened her planner, we began the negotiation process over who would take time off from work to care for our three kids—who are still too young to be left unsupervised. They’re capable of amusing themselves (whether they choose to is another matter), but they haven’t mastered the art of total independence, nor do they possess the judgment to ensure their own safety.
Throughout the school year, there are random Tuesdays off, an enigmatic half-day in March, week-long winter and spring breaks, and holiday vacations to juggle. That doesn’t even take into account the days when a child comes home sick or, heaven forbid, catches lice, necessitating their absence for yet another reason.
Despite selecting several days to be with our kids during school closures, we were still left with around eight days needing coverage. Our options? Work from home—essentially meaning we won’t accomplish anything due to the kids’ presence—and hope our employers don’t notice, or pay for the school’s day camp designed for families needing childcare during break days. But if I can’t afford to take time off, how can I afford to pay someone to watch the kids while I work? None of our choices involve help from family members; we’re completely on our own, and frankly, it’s frustrating.
“I wonder what Jake and Mia are doing with their kids over winter break? Maybe we can take their kids for a day or two and they can take ours,” Lisa suggested. I watched her pull out her phone to text her friend. A minute later, she huffed and muttered, “Of course,” showing me the screen with Mia’s response: Grandma camp!
“Must be nice,” I replied, feeling a twinge of jealousy. Our kids don’t have grandparents in town, and neither Lisa nor I have family close enough to lend a hand—or willing to do so.
I don’t have Mom or Dad to turn to when the kids have an in-service day, or when I simply need a breather. I’ll admit it: I get a bit irritable when a friend from my “village” reminds me that we’re all in this together while casually mentioning their parents are taking the kids for a night so they can enjoy a much-needed date night.
Are we truly in this together? Because your parents aren’t stepping in to help with my kids. I don’t have relatives coming to our rescue, and I lack the free babysitters that others seem to enjoy.
Of course, my friends deserve their time off, and I’m happy for them that they have family members willing to step in at a moment’s notice. I just wish I could rely on a grandparent or relative to offer assistance when I need it most. Without that support, my feelings can turn a little sour.
I don’t love my friends any less, nor do I think they don’t deserve their breaks. But I can’t help but feel a pang of envy when I hear them talk about relatives coming to visit for school breaks. And it’s downright maddening when my kids want to hang out with their friends, only to realize those friends are spending the day at Grandma’s. Can’t Grandma keep her grandkids around on weekends so mine don’t need me to play referee or entertain them?
Lisa and I feel isolated in this struggle. We nod politely when friends plan vacations around school holidays. We hold back our thoughts when we hear about Aunt Karen’s visit to help with their kids. We feign excitement when our friends brag about having a Netflix and chill night because their kids are across town at Grandma’s.
And secretly, we grumble about it all.
It must be nice to save money on childcare and have a safety net when life throws curveballs. It must be refreshing to feel a sense of relief when the overwhelming responsibilities of parenting are eased by someone else stepping in for bedtime.
What I crave the most is not just a babysitter, but support that allows me to breathe easier when things get tough. I don’t want to be pampered; I want to share the load with someone who can help carry the weight when it feels too heavy. I want comfort, acknowledgment of my hard work, and the peace of mind that comes from knowing my kids are in the care of trusted adults. I long for someone to check in on me and show up without any conditions attached.
Parenting can feel overwhelming, and I can’t shake the jealousy I feel when I see my friends effortlessly reaching out to their own parents for help, just as our children do with us.
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Summary:
Navigating parenthood without family support can be incredibly daunting for working parents. The constant juggling of school schedules, unexpected days off, and the absence of nearby relatives often leads to feelings of frustration and jealousy when comparing one’s situation to friends who have family support. The longing for help—whether it be from grandparents or other relatives—can add an emotional toll, as parents wish for a shared load and the comfort of knowing their kids are in the care of trusted adults.
Keyphrase: Parenting without family support
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