Parenting
By Jamie Carter
Updated: June 15, 2021
Originally Published: September 20, 2016
A little after 8 a.m. on a Saturday, my partner, Sarah, groggily confessed that she hadn’t caught enough Z’s the night before. Curious, I asked when she finally hit the hay. We have three kiddos, and thankfully, they all managed to sleep through the night. Sarah and I usually tag-team the nighttime duties, so I would’ve known if she needed to get up. In fact, our youngest, Zoe, didn’t stir until after 7:30, a solid hour and a half later than usual.
I couldn’t wrap my head around her lack of sleep unless she had once again decided to stay up late. “What time did you go to bed?” I ventured.
“A little after 1 a.m.,” she replied, her red-rimmed eyes saying more than her words. I sighed, leaning into my habitual lecture mode. “Why do you keep doing this? Why didn’t you turn in when I did?”
I had called it a night around 10 p.m. as I sauntered off to bed, leaving her in the living room with a casual promise of “I’ll be there soon.” But, of course, that didn’t happen.
I shot her my best “I don’t sympathize with you” face, partly because this wasn’t the first time Sarah had stayed up late for what I considered no good reason.
Since we had kids, I had embraced the early bedtime lifestyle. Sleep became my top priority. Between night feedings and juggling two jobs, any chance for sleep was seized like a gold nugget. Sarah, on the other hand, seemed to prioritize her late-night escapades.
After nearly 12 years of marriage, with nine of those years spent parenting, I noticed a pattern: once our oldest son hit the toddler stage, Sarah began her late-night rituals. Now, we rarely went to bed at the same time. While I missed our shared bedtime, I was more perplexed by her late-night activities, which usually left her bleary-eyed the next day.
She remained quiet, lost in thought, while our children munched on breakfast. “I spend all day with the kids. All. Day. And when they’re not around, I’m with you,” she began, “which is great, but when I’m not with you, I’m either with the kids or doing schoolwork. I just…” She paused, searching for the right words. “I really need some me time.”
I leaned back, trying to digest her words. I never really understood the concept of “me time.” I knew I needed sleep, but that didn’t equate to the same thing.
“What does ‘me time’ mean?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
Sarah exhaled, her expression caught between irritation and contemplation. “I want to sit on the couch and not have someone climbing on me. I need a break from the constant demands. When the kids are around, it feels like sensory overload. Sometimes I wish I could just crawl into a bubble. I want to enjoy a show that doesn’t involve cartoon pigs or endless Minecraft tutorials. I crave a quiet house, a book I want to read, and just some time to be…” She raised her eyebrows and said something that struck a chord. “Late at night is the only time I can feel like the person I was before I became a mom.”
This was a revelation I hadn’t anticipated. I always assumed Sarah relished motherhood. Sure, we’d discussed the challenges of parenting, but I didn’t know she felt the need to reconnect with her pre-mom self.
“Do you not enjoy being a mom?” I hesitated, unsure if I was more concerned about her feelings or my own fears of her wanting to step away from motherhood.
With a half-smile, Sarah replied, “I love our kids. But this isn’t about them. It’s about needing time alone. Sometimes, I don’t even want you around.”
Her honesty was refreshing and unsettling. “It’s not that I don’t love you or the kids,” she continued, “but I just need time to be myself. To not have anyone needing anything from me. Right now, that feels more important than sleep. Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “I mean, I get it’s not something I need, but I can respect your feelings.”
As Sarah nestled closer, resting her head on my shoulder, we shared a moment of comfortable silence.
“So, are you going to stay up late again tonight?” I asked.
She nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Alright,” I said, “I’ll make sure to give you space.”
In the grand scheme of parenting, it turns out that understanding the need for personal time can be just as crucial as sleep—something I’m learning to navigate alongside my partner.
For more insights on parenting and personal time, check out this excellent resource on home insemination, or learn more about self insemination.
Summary
In this humorous exploration of parenting dynamics, Jamie learns about his partner Sarah’s late-night habits and her need for personal time amidst the chaos of family life. Through an enlightening conversation, he discovers that her late nights are less about insomnia and more about reclaiming a sense of self in the midst of motherhood.