What’s surprised me most about parenting is how completely it’s swallowed my solitude. I knew it would take time and energy, but I didn’t expect how little space would be left just to exist—to sit in my own thoughts without being needed. As someone who recharges in silence, I’ve been caught off guard by how much I crave it. It’s not just the hours spent actively parenting; it’s the constant hum of responsibility, the feeling that even when I’m alone, I’m never really off the clock.
Preach it, sister! I never realized how much I missed my solitude until last summer. When both boys were at work and it was just me at home, I was guiltily shocked at how wonderful it felt. The efficiency of my writing skyrocketed, and I often wrapped up what I had to do by noon. You are so right, too, about the constant hum of responsibility. My schedule is still very dependent upon theirs and what they're going to need. My youngest is not quite driving, so it's still up to me to take him where he has to go for classes and such. And while my oldest does have wheels, during this time of the year, there are other considerations, so I make it a point not to be out of cell range during the school day. (The roads have been horrific this winter, and he's already managed to bury the truck in the ditch once this year.) I am a mother before all else at this point in my life, but I have to admit, moments of not being "on" are welcomed on occasion.
Right? It’s like you suddenly remember what it feels like to move through your own day without the weight of everyone else’s needs pressing in.
And the winter driving situation? That adds a whole other layer of ‘mom mode’—being available, staying within reach, always anticipating the next potential crisis.
I’ve loved the freedom that came when my girls started driving, but it brings a different kind of mental occupation. And as much as I appreciate the extra time, I have to admit… I really miss our drive-time conversations.
I hear you on the drive-time conversations! That is why I still take them in for a few activities, such as taekwondo. I tell them it's because I'm going to workout so we might as well go in together, but if I'm honest, it's to hold on to that little bit of time.
To add my story to the mix - I wasn’t prepared for the apathy/indifference stage. As my 13 yo daughter rejects nearly every idea I generated for free time while she shows only an interest in doing nothing. With a phone.
I never expected to lose to a phone.
And more importantly for her mind to be hijacked regularly.
I experienced nothing of the sort with my 18 yo twins.
It’s wild how different kids can be, even within the same family. The fact that you didn’t experience this with your twins must make it even more confusing. Is it birth order? Personality? Different experiences within the family or society? (I just had a conversation with a friend this morning about the residual impacts of kids living through lockdowns.) Other? Combo of some or all?
How do we pull them back without it turning into a constant battle?
Yes—the letting go happens in layers, doesn’t it? We brace ourselves for the big moments—graduations, goodbyes, the first real step into independence. But the real shift happens in the small, everyday ways we don’t see coming.
It’s in the conversations where we realize their perspectives are fully their own. In the choices that make us pause and think, I wouldn’t have done it that way. In the moments when we catch a glimpse of them as people we’re still getting to know.
Maybe that’s the paradox of parenting—pouring everything we have into raising them, only to stand back and watch them become something beyond what we ever could have imagined.
I wasn't prepared for the competing influences that would undermine my parenting and my relationships with my kids. We live in a culture that I believe unwittingly creates parental alienation and parents have to work extra hard to keep their children oriented to the family culture so they can maintain some influence. I also wasn't prepared for the pain of recognizing the limits of said influence, and that I'd have to resort to faith in my kids' adaptability and nature's yearning for them to thrive. Learning to shift into curiosity, letting go of "being right" and finding the faith necessary to not lose my own mind (which I admittedly did there for a bit, but I've witnessed this plunge many a "good" mom into long term despair and depression) has transformed my life for the better. I've come to believe parenting-and the inevitable grief it will inflict--is the vehicle that creates next level maturity and true elders. And the world needs more elders along with a healthy respect for experience and wisdom!
I can't express how deeply this resonates. The tension between shaping our children’s world and accepting the limits of our influence is one of the hardest reckonings of parenthood. Especially in the last several years.
The pull to ‘get it right’ is so strong, but as you so beautifully put it, curiosity and faith are the real guides. That shift—from control to trust, from certainty to presence—is where the real transformation happens.
And yes, the world is desperate for true elders, for those who’ve walked this fire and can hold space for the next generation with wisdom instead of fear.
I wasn't prepared for the challenge of being needed by two little people at the same time. Sure, I knew it - but like you said in another comment - we can know something, but to experience it is completely different. I struggle the most at bedtime. Both (a 3-year-old and a 5-month-old) want me to put them to sleep and I would happily do both, but I can't (yet?).
So, I listen to my baby cry in my husband's arms while I tuck my toddler in and try to read him a story loud enough to drown out the crying -- but not too loud, because we are going to sleep! Or, I nurse my baby and rock her quielty, while I hear my toddler tearfully yell "but I wanted it to be Mommy's turn!"
I wasn't prepared to both resent my husband *and* feel so guilty that he is not the preferred parent at bedtime. It breaks my heart for him, but it also breaks my heart for me. I know it's just a phase, but it's a tough one!
Oh wow, this took me right back to when my girls were small. They’re two years apart and I remember this feeling all too well—being pulled in two directions, knowing someone was always waiting (and usually crying).
Bedtime can be brutal—everyone’s exhausted, you included. That impossible choice between comforting one while the other cries for you? And the resentment/guilt combo? Ugh. Wanting to be there for both, wishing your husband could seamlessly step in—while also feeling bad that he’s not the ‘preferred’ one? That’s a lot to hold at once.
You (and everyone reading this) know it’s a phase, but that doesn’t make it any less tough while you’re in it.
Sending reassurance from someone who made it to the other side of this season—it gets easier and doesn’t last forever, I promise. Be so gentle with yourself.
I became a psychotherapist and got trained in a model that looked at how the Family of Original (FOO) influences an individual before becoming a dad. So I “knew” about this but experiencing it is totally different.
This notion that parenting brings me face to face with my own childhood wounds in a way nothing else does.
I mean, many other things in life make me aware of my childhood wounds, but not in the way parenting does.
It’s a bittersweet gift. And the more I pay attention to, and work through, what she (my daughter) brings up in me— the better dad I am.
Oh.. and no one prepared me for how many times a toddler can say “dada” in 1 second lol. 🫠
Oh, this is good stuff. We can ‘know’ something intellectually, but ‘living’ it is an entirely different thing. Parenting has this unique way of holding up a mirror to our own childhood wounds—sometimes gently, more often like a wrecking ball. Nothing else quite compares.
Unpacking what our kids bring up in us is, without a doubt, hard and holy work. Thanks for highlighting the reward of it all. It's easy to lose sight (or even believe) when we're in the thick of it.
Also… the ‘Dada’ repetition… absolute endurance training.
For over a full calendar year my now 4 year old daughter has given me a run for every penny I have. All the nonsense, all the battles. I was not prepared for such an extended period of defiance and how that would affect my mental fortitude. Sure I knew about terrible two's and threenager stuff but I didn't think it would be like this. I think of it like a fuse. My mental state gets burnt down and down and down during the day, it has a chance to grow back up when we're having great times. But it never reaches back where it was, it always catches fire again and begins the downward descent. Regrow, burn, burn, regrow, burn.
And no one warns you (or knows) just how long these phases can last—or how much they can chip away at your mental reserves. The classic ‘terrible twos’ and ‘threenager’ labels make it sound like a short-lived storm you just need to ride out, but when it stretches on and on? It’s exhausting.
The way you describe it—the fuse burning, regrowing, and burning again—is so accurate. It’s like you never quite get back to baseline before the next spark hits. And that constant cycle of holding it together, resetting, and getting tested again is brutal.
I see you. You’re in the thick of it, and it’s so much. But for what it’s worth, just the fact that you’re aware of how hard this is means you’re still fighting, still showing up, still giving your best. Even when it feels like you’re running on fumes.
But also… what do you think we could do to minimize or manage this? Just accepting that ‘this is how it is’ doesn’t sit right with me. There has to be a way to make it more sustainable.
We've been learning so much about ourselves and how to deal with her, it's been a massive learning season. Having the self-awareness to recognize when we're getting frustrated or when she's found a button and is stomping on it. What we do in those moments is critical and we've gotten much better at it. Spending time thinking "why" did this get me going earlier today and why did I react that way has been great. Maybe I was frustrated she was moving slowly because "I" failed to set expectations properly or didn't put "my"self in a position to be successful.
This is such a powerful reflection. The level of self-awareness you’re building—both in understanding her and recognizing your own triggers—is incredible. It’s so easy to react in the moment, but taking the time to step back and ask why is a total game-changer.
The part about realizing frustration can stem from our own unmet expectations? Yes. That’s next-level parenting. What a gift you’re giving her (and yourselves) by approaching it this way!
For over a full calendar year my now 4 year old daughter has given me a run for every penny I have. All the nonsense, all the battles. I was not prepared for such an extended period of defiance and how that would affect my mental fortitude. Sure I knew about terrible two's and threenager stuff but I didn't think it would be like this. I think of it like a fuse. My mental state gets burnt down and down and down during the day, it has a chance to grow back up when we're having great times. But it never reaches back where it was, it always catches fire again and begins the downward descent. Regrow, burn, burn, regrow, burn.
I didn't expect the extent of the guilt. The doing the best you can but it never feels like enough guilt. The guilt that you should be more, do more, because they deserve more- they deserve the best.
And especially the need time for myself guilt. The guilt while taking time for myself that Im missing out on something and should be with them instead. The guilt of feeling jealous my spouse gets time alone in the car, at the store, at work, in the bathroom, when the kids are asleep... Even when they are working incredibly hard at their job and carrying the chores at home and spending time with the kids- because it still feels like you're the one carrying the mental load and always putting everyone else's needs above your own.
Oh, I feel this so much. Even when we logically know we deserve rest, it’s so hard to shake the feeling that we should be doing more, should be with them, should be fully present all the time.
And the part about feeling jealous of the small, seemingly mundane moments of solitude? YES. Especially when they're younger. A quiet drive, a solo grocery run, a locked bathroom door—somehow, those feel like luxuries.
You’re not alone in this. And for what it’s worth, I bet you’re giving your kids exactly what they need. Even if it never 'feels' like enough.
I never expected to become a mother of a special needs kid who was typical in her younger years and developed a developmental delay later on in teen years due to health issues. I never expected the day when they weren’t little anymore. I never thought the baby/toddler years to be the actual easiest part of it was the most sleepless, but the easiest for me. I never expected college to cost so dang much and not be prepared for it. I never expected to try and provide for everyone with 2 unemployed parents. I never expected to be in the same boat as so many people and also be so alone.
Thank you for sharing this, Emily. The weight of the unexpected in parenting is so real—how it can upend everything we thought we knew and leave us navigating challenges we never saw coming.
The shift from childhood to the teen years, the unpredictability of health, the financial strain, the loneliness in the midst of shared experiences—I hear you. It’s a lot. And I hope you know you’re not as alone as it sometimes feels.
I’m grateful you put this into words. Sending you strength and solidarity.
Whilst I am here! I know it may not be your thing but my publication tries to educate on the topic of child online safety so if you have kids or know people with them a subscribe, restack or recommendation would really help me reach as many people as possible and mean the world to me!
Hi Dale! So glad you introduced yourself. I’d love to get you listed in PARENTstack if you’re interested—it’s a great way to connect with the parenting community.
Check it out and see if it feels like a good fit! You can add yourself to the directory using the 'Add Me to the Directory' button at the top of the page: https://unpopularparent.substack.com/p/parent-stack
What’s surprised me most about parenting is how completely it’s swallowed my solitude. I knew it would take time and energy, but I didn’t expect how little space would be left just to exist—to sit in my own thoughts without being needed. As someone who recharges in silence, I’ve been caught off guard by how much I crave it. It’s not just the hours spent actively parenting; it’s the constant hum of responsibility, the feeling that even when I’m alone, I’m never really off the clock.
My friend Todd Kashdan recently wrote a powerful piece on the emotions tied to craving kid-free solitude, and it hit me deep—https://toddkashdan.substack.com/p/the-tender-solitude-of-parenthood.
Preach it, sister! I never realized how much I missed my solitude until last summer. When both boys were at work and it was just me at home, I was guiltily shocked at how wonderful it felt. The efficiency of my writing skyrocketed, and I often wrapped up what I had to do by noon. You are so right, too, about the constant hum of responsibility. My schedule is still very dependent upon theirs and what they're going to need. My youngest is not quite driving, so it's still up to me to take him where he has to go for classes and such. And while my oldest does have wheels, during this time of the year, there are other considerations, so I make it a point not to be out of cell range during the school day. (The roads have been horrific this winter, and he's already managed to bury the truck in the ditch once this year.) I am a mother before all else at this point in my life, but I have to admit, moments of not being "on" are welcomed on occasion.
Right? It’s like you suddenly remember what it feels like to move through your own day without the weight of everyone else’s needs pressing in.
And the winter driving situation? That adds a whole other layer of ‘mom mode’—being available, staying within reach, always anticipating the next potential crisis.
I’ve loved the freedom that came when my girls started driving, but it brings a different kind of mental occupation. And as much as I appreciate the extra time, I have to admit… I really miss our drive-time conversations.
I hear you on the drive-time conversations! That is why I still take them in for a few activities, such as taekwondo. I tell them it's because I'm going to workout so we might as well go in together, but if I'm honest, it's to hold on to that little bit of time.
That's too funny! I do something similar by enticing Scout with trips to Trader Joe's.
Thanks 🙏 Erin!
To add my story to the mix - I wasn’t prepared for the apathy/indifference stage. As my 13 yo daughter rejects nearly every idea I generated for free time while she shows only an interest in doing nothing. With a phone.
I never expected to lose to a phone.
And more importantly for her mind to be hijacked regularly.
I experienced nothing of the sort with my 18 yo twins.
I've taken a wayyy back seat to the electric guitar. 🙄 Every. Waking. Moment.
It’s wild how different kids can be, even within the same family. The fact that you didn’t experience this with your twins must make it even more confusing. Is it birth order? Personality? Different experiences within the family or society? (I just had a conversation with a friend this morning about the residual impacts of kids living through lockdowns.) Other? Combo of some or all?
How do we pull them back without it turning into a constant battle?
I wasn't prepared for my children to go their own way.
I thought I was prepared for this. If you'd asked me, I'd have said I knew that. But I never really knew it until they did.
Now that I do understand it, I find this the most humbling and the most beautiful part of raising children.
Yes—the letting go happens in layers, doesn’t it? We brace ourselves for the big moments—graduations, goodbyes, the first real step into independence. But the real shift happens in the small, everyday ways we don’t see coming.
It’s in the conversations where we realize their perspectives are fully their own. In the choices that make us pause and think, I wouldn’t have done it that way. In the moments when we catch a glimpse of them as people we’re still getting to know.
Maybe that’s the paradox of parenting—pouring everything we have into raising them, only to stand back and watch them become something beyond what we ever could have imagined.
So true! I’ll never forget the moment when my then 3 yo rejected a pair of pink shoes because “they have to be purple!”
Who knew she had a favorite color? She never discussed it with me! But I exchanged the shoes.
And FWIW she’s now 31 and she’s the most considerate, unselfish woman I know.
This made me smile. Love every bit of this, especially the end. Lucky/blessed mom, lucky/blessed daughter.
I wasn't prepared for the competing influences that would undermine my parenting and my relationships with my kids. We live in a culture that I believe unwittingly creates parental alienation and parents have to work extra hard to keep their children oriented to the family culture so they can maintain some influence. I also wasn't prepared for the pain of recognizing the limits of said influence, and that I'd have to resort to faith in my kids' adaptability and nature's yearning for them to thrive. Learning to shift into curiosity, letting go of "being right" and finding the faith necessary to not lose my own mind (which I admittedly did there for a bit, but I've witnessed this plunge many a "good" mom into long term despair and depression) has transformed my life for the better. I've come to believe parenting-and the inevitable grief it will inflict--is the vehicle that creates next level maturity and true elders. And the world needs more elders along with a healthy respect for experience and wisdom!
I can't express how deeply this resonates. The tension between shaping our children’s world and accepting the limits of our influence is one of the hardest reckonings of parenthood. Especially in the last several years.
The pull to ‘get it right’ is so strong, but as you so beautifully put it, curiosity and faith are the real guides. That shift—from control to trust, from certainty to presence—is where the real transformation happens.
And yes, the world is desperate for true elders, for those who’ve walked this fire and can hold space for the next generation with wisdom instead of fear.
I wasn't prepared for the challenge of being needed by two little people at the same time. Sure, I knew it - but like you said in another comment - we can know something, but to experience it is completely different. I struggle the most at bedtime. Both (a 3-year-old and a 5-month-old) want me to put them to sleep and I would happily do both, but I can't (yet?).
So, I listen to my baby cry in my husband's arms while I tuck my toddler in and try to read him a story loud enough to drown out the crying -- but not too loud, because we are going to sleep! Or, I nurse my baby and rock her quielty, while I hear my toddler tearfully yell "but I wanted it to be Mommy's turn!"
I wasn't prepared to both resent my husband *and* feel so guilty that he is not the preferred parent at bedtime. It breaks my heart for him, but it also breaks my heart for me. I know it's just a phase, but it's a tough one!
Oh wow, this took me right back to when my girls were small. They’re two years apart and I remember this feeling all too well—being pulled in two directions, knowing someone was always waiting (and usually crying).
Bedtime can be brutal—everyone’s exhausted, you included. That impossible choice between comforting one while the other cries for you? And the resentment/guilt combo? Ugh. Wanting to be there for both, wishing your husband could seamlessly step in—while also feeling bad that he’s not the ‘preferred’ one? That’s a lot to hold at once.
You (and everyone reading this) know it’s a phase, but that doesn’t make it any less tough while you’re in it.
Sending reassurance from someone who made it to the other side of this season—it gets easier and doesn’t last forever, I promise. Be so gentle with yourself.
I became a psychotherapist and got trained in a model that looked at how the Family of Original (FOO) influences an individual before becoming a dad. So I “knew” about this but experiencing it is totally different.
This notion that parenting brings me face to face with my own childhood wounds in a way nothing else does.
I mean, many other things in life make me aware of my childhood wounds, but not in the way parenting does.
It’s a bittersweet gift. And the more I pay attention to, and work through, what she (my daughter) brings up in me— the better dad I am.
Oh.. and no one prepared me for how many times a toddler can say “dada” in 1 second lol. 🫠
Oh, this is good stuff. We can ‘know’ something intellectually, but ‘living’ it is an entirely different thing. Parenting has this unique way of holding up a mirror to our own childhood wounds—sometimes gently, more often like a wrecking ball. Nothing else quite compares.
Unpacking what our kids bring up in us is, without a doubt, hard and holy work. Thanks for highlighting the reward of it all. It's easy to lose sight (or even believe) when we're in the thick of it.
Also… the ‘Dada’ repetition… absolute endurance training.
For over a full calendar year my now 4 year old daughter has given me a run for every penny I have. All the nonsense, all the battles. I was not prepared for such an extended period of defiance and how that would affect my mental fortitude. Sure I knew about terrible two's and threenager stuff but I didn't think it would be like this. I think of it like a fuse. My mental state gets burnt down and down and down during the day, it has a chance to grow back up when we're having great times. But it never reaches back where it was, it always catches fire again and begins the downward descent. Regrow, burn, burn, regrow, burn.
And no one warns you (or knows) just how long these phases can last—or how much they can chip away at your mental reserves. The classic ‘terrible twos’ and ‘threenager’ labels make it sound like a short-lived storm you just need to ride out, but when it stretches on and on? It’s exhausting.
The way you describe it—the fuse burning, regrowing, and burning again—is so accurate. It’s like you never quite get back to baseline before the next spark hits. And that constant cycle of holding it together, resetting, and getting tested again is brutal.
I see you. You’re in the thick of it, and it’s so much. But for what it’s worth, just the fact that you’re aware of how hard this is means you’re still fighting, still showing up, still giving your best. Even when it feels like you’re running on fumes.
But also… what do you think we could do to minimize or manage this? Just accepting that ‘this is how it is’ doesn’t sit right with me. There has to be a way to make it more sustainable.
We've been learning so much about ourselves and how to deal with her, it's been a massive learning season. Having the self-awareness to recognize when we're getting frustrated or when she's found a button and is stomping on it. What we do in those moments is critical and we've gotten much better at it. Spending time thinking "why" did this get me going earlier today and why did I react that way has been great. Maybe I was frustrated she was moving slowly because "I" failed to set expectations properly or didn't put "my"self in a position to be successful.
This is such a powerful reflection. The level of self-awareness you’re building—both in understanding her and recognizing your own triggers—is incredible. It’s so easy to react in the moment, but taking the time to step back and ask why is a total game-changer.
The part about realizing frustration can stem from our own unmet expectations? Yes. That’s next-level parenting. What a gift you’re giving her (and yourselves) by approaching it this way!
For over a full calendar year my now 4 year old daughter has given me a run for every penny I have. All the nonsense, all the battles. I was not prepared for such an extended period of defiance and how that would affect my mental fortitude. Sure I knew about terrible two's and threenager stuff but I didn't think it would be like this. I think of it like a fuse. My mental state gets burnt down and down and down during the day, it has a chance to grow back up when we're having great times. But it never reaches back where it was, it always catches fire again and begins the downward descent. Regrow, burn, burn, regrow, burn.
I didn't expect the extent of the guilt. The doing the best you can but it never feels like enough guilt. The guilt that you should be more, do more, because they deserve more- they deserve the best.
And especially the need time for myself guilt. The guilt while taking time for myself that Im missing out on something and should be with them instead. The guilt of feeling jealous my spouse gets time alone in the car, at the store, at work, in the bathroom, when the kids are asleep... Even when they are working incredibly hard at their job and carrying the chores at home and spending time with the kids- because it still feels like you're the one carrying the mental load and always putting everyone else's needs above your own.
Oh, I feel this so much. Even when we logically know we deserve rest, it’s so hard to shake the feeling that we should be doing more, should be with them, should be fully present all the time.
And the part about feeling jealous of the small, seemingly mundane moments of solitude? YES. Especially when they're younger. A quiet drive, a solo grocery run, a locked bathroom door—somehow, those feel like luxuries.
You’re not alone in this. And for what it’s worth, I bet you’re giving your kids exactly what they need. Even if it never 'feels' like enough.
I never expected to become a mother of a special needs kid who was typical in her younger years and developed a developmental delay later on in teen years due to health issues. I never expected the day when they weren’t little anymore. I never thought the baby/toddler years to be the actual easiest part of it was the most sleepless, but the easiest for me. I never expected college to cost so dang much and not be prepared for it. I never expected to try and provide for everyone with 2 unemployed parents. I never expected to be in the same boat as so many people and also be so alone.
Thank you for sharing this, Emily. The weight of the unexpected in parenting is so real—how it can upend everything we thought we knew and leave us navigating challenges we never saw coming.
The shift from childhood to the teen years, the unpredictability of health, the financial strain, the loneliness in the midst of shared experiences—I hear you. It’s a lot. And I hope you know you’re not as alone as it sometimes feels.
I’m grateful you put this into words. Sending you strength and solidarity.
Excellent post! @Erin Miller
Whilst I am here! I know it may not be your thing but my publication tries to educate on the topic of child online safety so if you have kids or know people with them a subscribe, restack or recommendation would really help me reach as many people as possible and mean the world to me!
Thanks
Hi Dale! So glad you introduced yourself. I’d love to get you listed in PARENTstack if you’re interested—it’s a great way to connect with the parenting community.
Check it out and see if it feels like a good fit! You can add yourself to the directory using the 'Add Me to the Directory' button at the top of the page: https://unpopularparent.substack.com/p/parent-stack
Thankyou so very much! That looks great and I have submitted the form and I will be adding a recommendation for your publication too!
Fantastic—and thank you so much! I'll get you added in the next day or two and will reach out to let you know when it's done.
You are a star thanks!
My pleasure! It’s noble work you’re doing.
It's the least I can do honestly
I'll choose to make this light.
It’s 2 a.m., and I’m feeling like a top dad doing my share—baby wakes up, I do the whole routine: nappy change, bottle. Nailed it.
Then… that sound. A deep, ominous rumble. Fine. I change her again, back to feeding her.
And then I feel it. Warm. Spreading. On my arm and my hand, my PJ's.
I forgot to put a new nappy on.🤦
No nappy. Just free-range poop.
Next thing I know, it’s 2:30 a.m., and we’re both having a bath, while I question every life choice that led me here.
I’m simultaneously cringing and laughing—too funny!
It's giving me a great story to talk about my imperfection. Got to keep it real Erin😁