The Worst Part

...is keeping the cell phone charged.

When The Husband travels, it doesn't take long before the mechanics of singly caring for two kids instinctively elicits the muscle memories of days past, back when I was singly caring for two kids for, shall we say, a bit longer than a week.

(All together now: blech.)

And it reminds me of what I've always hated the most about solo parent duty - the very "solo-ness" of it all. Not in terms of being the only one making lunches and driving kids to birthday parties and figuring out how to switch the amp to 6-channel so we can watch Fantastic Mr. Fox (aside: this movie is GORGEOUS. Watch it. [Also aside: YES!! I totally figured out how to make the amp work]).

No, the worst part about solo parenting is that the proverbial buck has only one final destination.

Me.

Who didn't clean up the kitchen last night? Me. Who didn't make sure there were enough cucumbers for healthy snack? Me. Who will the school call if someone falls off the monkey bars and breaks his arm? Me.

Which is why I feel the need to carry my cell phone with me all day, bringing it to meetings where my little pay-as-you-go Samsung must experience a tremendous inferiority complex in the face of all the Blackberrys and iPhones and fancy touch pad texty thingamajigs.

Now usually, my cell phone is somewhere at the bottom of my purse, if it's even turned on. Or charged. I get messages from The Husband: "Helllooooo. I am calling the bottom of your purse. You have it on vibrate again and if you don't turn your ringer on, you will never hear it. But even if you heard it, you would not be able to find it in time because of that huge purse that you insist on carrying filled with all that crap."

And this? Is okay. If all I'm waiting for are snarky voicemails, it doesn't matter if I don't answer it.

But when someone is in Vienna and may or may not even be accessible by phone, there is only one person who can make that dash to the emergency room, and that is me.

It's a lot of responsibility and it's wearing to have to add it to an already-full slate of keeping things chugging around here while also working full-time and going to band practice and teaching ESL.

But.

Wanna know the best thing about solo parenting?

The best part about solo parenting is that the proverbial buck has only one final destination.

Me.

Who gets to eat chips in the bed because there's no one else around to mind the crumbs? Me. Who gets to waive kitchen-cleanup because her book is getting good? Me. Who gets final say in how everything runs and doesn't have to "discuss" what is going to work best for the family since what works best for the family = what works best for me? Me.

It's tremendously freeing. It's my way or the highway, and if something didn't happen, it's because I didn't feel like doing it and I'm already okay with that. There are no unmet expectations to take me by surprise.

So much of coparenting nastiness takes place in that gap between where we each thought our responsibilities ended. Or where there's an overlap and we both consider ourselves responsible for something as well as the ultimate authority for how that particular thing happens - and then the teeth grit and the "discussion" begins as to why my way is better than yours.

So, it's the worst of times and best of times, I guess. Not my awesomest, but there are definite perks.