Kid-Free Time is not Free

I sometimes joke with happily married people with kids that everyone should get divorced so they can have every other weekend off. No one but me ever laughs, and the general response is a nervous change of subject. It is true, though, that when a divorce results in a schedule with alternating kid-free weekends, parenting takes on a different texture. Throw in a holiday without family responsibility, and it’s downright odd. On this Father’s Day weekend, I found myself with a Dad out of state and both kid and boyfriend-free due to Father's Day celebrations that did not require my presence.

Stephen and I enjoy our kid-free weekends, and can be as happy at home together as out in the city. On my own, however, I sometimes find myself at loose ends.

Don’t get me wrong—I have stuff to do. I like to exercise, and a great work-out takes time and the psychological will to do it. Kid-free time is perfect for this. I have a new job, which is challenging and demanding, and having time on a weekend to work without worrying about the kids is the dream of many working mothers. There is cleaning the house, and laundry and meal planning and groceries. And all the annoying things that take too much time and brainpower during the week that still need to get done (call the billers to change the billing cycle, email the den leader about the Cub Scout camp out, locate expired passport and a utility bill to renew my driver’s license). Not in the annoying category, but calling my Dad for Father’s Day was on the list. But by Sunday morning, I had done it all, and it was “me” time.

There were many options. My dad and stepmom gave me a spa gift certificate for my birthday. I could have used it. I could have watched movies or good old fashioned TV. All day. In bed. I could have worked out. Again. I love to read the actual paper version of The Sunday New York Times. I could have spent the whole day on that. 

What I ended up doing in the "me" time category was talk myself into 1000 meters at the Maplewood Family Aquatic Center, and take up my mom (a divorcee herself) on a last minute invitation to celebrate Father's Day sans fathers with gin and tonics at The Boathouse in Forest Park.

But, if I'm being honest, the driving force of the day was still to get things as ready as possible for my kids’ return. I washed bedding, found an old movie (Zathura) that Maya had wanted to watch that we couldn’t find last week. I spent an hour in Cameron and Stephen's son Ian’s room—a disaster of dirty socks (singles, not pairs), books (picture and chapter), Pokemon cards, plastic weaponry of all kinds, and briefly used $30 DS games tossed aside (too boring). I bought a good supply of their favorite Dove Bars and Fitz’s Orange and Cream soda, and counted the minutes until pick-up time. Because no matter how friendly or settled things are with the divorce, making things as nice as possible at home is one way that I say I’m sorry.

A kid-free weekend may give me time, but it doesn’t free me from my kids at all. And that is a very good thing.