I would like to give all my single parenting friends a medal.
No, maybe a party.
Maybe a party in their honour during which they would receive a medal.
And a surprise – maybe a voucher for a nice meal somewhere, or a night away some place relaxing.
Because I honestly don’t know how they do it.
On even my worst days of wanting to murder my other half for not helping me with the babies in the way that I wanted him to, at least I knew he was there.
At least I knew I could hand over if I needed a break and I had someone to sound off to if I wasn’t sure about a parenting decision I was about to make.
At least I have an extra pair of hands and eyes to get through.
The fact is that lots of my friends who had babies without a partner in tow didn’t have that.
They had twice the work, and twice the stress of raising children.
They did all the school runs, all the meals and all the bedtime stories.
My single parent friends were mum, dad, nurse, teacher, confidante, counsellor and best friend to their little ones.
They deserve all the cake and all the wine and all the applause.
And the medal – don’t forget the medal.
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