I feel the most guilt that my daughter is an only child on Sundays. Why Sundays?
Before we get there, it’s important to understand that my husband and I never intended to be a one-and-done family. We each grew up with two siblings, and we always imagined we would have at least a couple of kids of our own. But, as often happens, life had other plans. After getting married in our mid-30s, I was diagnosed with breast cancer 16 days after our wedding. Long story short, our four-year-old is a miracle. So not only is a second miracle unlikely, but at this point, we’ve very much settled into our Three Musketeers vibe. As she (and we!) gets older, starting over with sleepless nights and diapers sounds less appealing than, say, introducing our singleton to our love of European vacations.
But it doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes feel sad about our family’s only child status and that’s where Sundays come in. As is probably true for many moms, I feel an overwhelming need to be productive on Sundays so we are ready for the week ahead. There are errands to run, grocery orders to pick up, a house to clean after the weekend toy explosion, laundry to wash and fold, and work and school bags to organize. This hectic Sunday pace is further complicated by my husband being a golf pro, and Sunday is his busiest workday. He’s typically gone from about 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. (if not later) giving lessons.
So that leaves just me and my four-year-old, and only one of us truly appreciates and fully participates in how much needs to be accomplished. Instead, all she wants to do is play and, specifically, play with me. I try all the parenting strategies to keep her entertained. I go the connection route, playing with her for “X minutes” but then making it clear I’ll need to finish folding laundry. I include her in what I’m doing, making a game of how fast we can pick up a room or letting her help me cut up fruit and vegetables for the week. I also set her up for independent play with crafts or toys, which I hope will keep her attention. (Hello, fancy new water table!)
But it never fails that within 15 minutes, I hear in that whiny 4-year-old sing-song we all know and hate love, “I need someone to play with me!” When I recently suggested she play with our dog, my daughter scream-cried, “But she never talks back to me!” Okay, fair point.
And that’s usually when my heart breaks, and the guilt floods in. Even though I know independent play is a developmental skill she’s still learning at this age, I can’t help but think about what our Sundays would look like if she had a sibling. In my rose-colored daydream, my daughter and her imaginary sibling play together for long enough that I’m able to accomplish my Sunday tasks with less interruption and, therefore, in half the time. In doing so, they’re teaching each other life-long lessons about sharing toys and attention, empathy and unconditional love, social skills, and flexibility.
A girl can dream, right?
I have enough friends with multiple children to know that, in reality, they would either be ignoring each other or fighting over what to play, requiring near-constant attention from me as a referee. And I’ve read and listened to enough Dr. Becky to know the stereotypes about only children aren’t true. Even without a sibling to teach her, my daughter can grow into a kind, compassionate, and well-adjusted human being.
But every Sunday, when I see my daughter’s disappointment when she realizes she has no one to play with, I can’t help but feel saddened by my only child guilt.
