I was chatting with a childhood buddy the other day, catching up as we occasionally do. Her name is Sarah, and she’s a single mom living it up in a bustling city, juggling a solid job and raising her daughter. Meanwhile, I’m in a quiet little town, married with three kids. Our lives have taken such different paths.
Somehow, we got around to discussing how often we get to unwind without the kids. I confessed that my social outings are virtually nonexistent. With two jobs and every spare moment consumed by family time, I hardly see the inside of a bar. Sarah, on the other hand, tries to hit up bars and concerts as much as she can. “I love my life,” she texted. “I make good money and have a great sitter. I need to keep my sanity, you know?”
Reading that felt like a punch to the gut. Had it really been months, maybe even a year, since I’d hung out with friends? Both in our mid-30s, I realized I have friends, but they seem to be at the bottom of my to-do list. Should I prioritize them more?
This isn’t to say either of us is doing it wrong. I know Sarah’s a fantastic mom. Yet, I couldn’t wrap my head around how she balances her daughter’s activities, runs her household, has a demanding job, and still manages to maintain an active social life.
As I pondered how I could squeeze in time with friends, it dawned on me—I wasn’t missing out as much as I thought. Around this time, I stumbled upon an article by Lisa Turner titled “I Value My Friendships, But I’d Rather Be with My Family,” where she expressed her preference for family time over brunches or girls’ trips, emphasizing that this fleeting time when her kids choose her over anything else won’t last long.
For someone like me, a dad working over 50 hours a week, this perspective made complete sense. I often leave before my kids wake up and come home after they’ve gone to bed. My work trips take me to distant cities, where my interactions with my family are reduced to brief phone calls and pixelated video chats.
Every time I travel for work, I enjoy uninterrupted sleep (which is a rare treat), meet new people I likely won’t see again, and learn new things. But what I miss most is my family—their cuddles, the warmth of holding their little hands, and those sweet kisses from my wife.
I also miss being a supportive partner. Hearing my wife, Emma, express how overwhelmed she feels managing three little ones is tough for me. It’s not that I doubt her ability; I just know how demanding our kids can be, and I prefer being there to help. I genuinely enjoy being a father and husband, even when it’s chaotic.
As a working parent, I often find myself away from them, striving to provide. So when I do come home, I want to do more than just bring home a paycheck.
Now, don’t get me wrong—my kids can drive me up the wall sometimes. There are days when I come home to see half-naked children and a frazzled wife, reminiscing about how peaceful work was. But even when I’m at work, thoughts of my kids bring a smile to my face. I eagerly anticipate the moments of watching them play soccer or practice gymnastics. I cherish those times when I can help my daughter conquer a tricky math problem.
There’s a deep yearning in me to help my kids become extraordinary individuals. My bond with Emma has transformed over the years from romantic to a true partnership. Yes, we still have our romantic moments, but we’ve become a formidable team. We understand each other, and together we tackle every mess life throws our way. I genuinely enjoy her company more than anyone else’s, and I find peace in our togetherness.
Just last week, we had a family movie night with “Trolls.” As the music played, everyone but my too-cool-for-dance-party son joined in for an impromptu dance-off in the living room. My youngest was shaking her pigtails, my middle daughter nailed some ballerina moves, and Emma and I bumped hips, while my son looked on with a smirk. Honestly, it was better than any concert I’ve ever been to.
It’s tough to part with those moments. After being away for work, the last thing I want to do is socialize with others when all I crave is time with my wife and kids. It doesn’t make me boring or uncool; it simply means I’m relishing this stage of my children’s lives, knowing it’s fleeting.
Like Lisa said in her article, “I’m sorry if I miss out on some things. I probably will miss a lot. I only have a limited time to choose these little people before they stop choosing me.” I couldn’t agree more.
For those navigating similar waters, check out this resource on pregnancy as well as this post about fertility supplements to keep your journey on track. And if you’re looking for more insights, don’t hesitate to reach out here.
Summary
In this reflection, Jake acknowledges the changes in his social life and priorities as a father and husband. He contrasts his experiences with those of a single friend who actively maintains a social calendar, ultimately recognizing the joy and fulfillment he finds in family life over social engagements.