Growing up, I remember the sound of my mom’s car pulling into the driveway at 7 PM sharp every weeknight.
She’d walk through the door, still in her work clothes, and immediately start on dinner while helping with homework and sorting through the stack of bills on the counter. There was this constant hum of stress in our house, this feeling of always being one step behind.
It wasn’t until I became a parent myself, with a partner who shares the load, that I realized how many things I’d considered special treats were just normal Tuesday occurrences for families with two incomes and two sets of hands.
When you’re raised by a single parent, your normal looks different. You learn to celebrate small victories and find joy in moments that other families might not even notice.
Now, watching my own kids grow up with both parents present, I see the stark difference between what felt like luxury then and what we take for granted now.
1) Eating dinner before 8 PM
Can you imagine thinking of a 6:30 dinner as fancy? In our house, that was Christmas-level special. My mom worked until 6, commuted for 30 minutes, then had to cook from scratch because takeout wasn’t in the budget.
We’d eat at 8 or 8:30 most nights, and I’d already be halfway through my homework, stomach growling.
These days, Matt handles dinner prep while I help with homework, and we’re sitting down together by 6. The kids don’t know how lucky they are to eat while it’s still light outside most of the year.
They’ve never had to do math problems while their stomach rumbles or fallen asleep at the dinner table because it was already past bedtime.
2) Having someone pick you up from after-school activities
Remember begging to join the drama club or soccer team? For me, the answer was usually no, not because my mom didn’t want me to explore interests, but because she couldn’t leave work at 3:30 to pick me up.
The few times I did participate in something, I was always the last kid waiting, watching the parking lot empty out, hoping she hadn’t forgotten.
When Ellie wanted to try art class after school, we didn’t even have to discuss logistics. Matt adjusts his schedule, or I do.
Someone’s always there, usually early, chatting with other parents. It’s such a simple thing, but it opens up entire worlds of opportunity that single-parent kids often miss.
3) Grocery shopping without kids in tow
Every single grocery trip of my childhood involved me and my mom. She’d hand me the calculator to keep running tally while she shopped, turning it into a math lesson because what else could she do?
I’d beg for cereal that wasn’t on sale, and she’d have to say no while managing my disappointment in the middle of aisle seven.
Last week, I went to the farmers’ market alone while Matt took the kids to the park. I actually got to smell the peaches, chat with the vendor about which tomatoes would be best for sauce, and browse without anyone tugging on my shirt.
This freedom to shop mindfully, to actually think about meals without negotiating with a toddler, feels almost indulgent when I remember those harried trips with my mom.
4) Sick days that don’t require impossible choices
What happens when your kid wakes up with a fever and you’re a single parent? You either miss work (and pay), send them to school sick (guilt forever), or call in that favor from your neighbor who you’ve already asked too many times.
My mom once had to bring me to her office, where I slept under her desk because she’d already used all her sick days.
When Milo had the stomach bug last month, Matt stayed home without us even having a discussion about it. His meeting could be rescheduled; my workshop couldn’t.
We didn’t have to calculate lost wages or feel guilty about sending a sick kid to daycare. The luxury of having options when your child is ill is something two-parent households rarely have to think twice about.
5) Weekend mornings that start slowly
Saturdays in my childhood meant errands, laundry, and all the housework that couldn’t get done during the week.
My mom would wake me up early so we could hit three stores before the crowds, clean the house, and maybe, if we finished everything, go to the park for an hour.
Now? Saturday mornings Matt makes pancakes while I drink coffee that’s actually still hot. The kids play in their pajamas until 10. The laundry can wait because someone did a load Thursday evening while the other parent handled bedtime.
This slower pace, this ability to ease into the weekend, would have been unimaginable in my childhood home.
6) Attending parent-teacher conferences without losing pay
“Can we schedule this for after 5:30?” My mom asked this question every single school year. Sometimes teachers accommodated; sometimes they couldn’t.
She’d have to choose between missing the conference or losing two hours of wages. Report cards would come home with notes she’d never discussed with teachers because she simply couldn’t be there.
When Ellie’s teacher requested a meeting last month, Matt and I compared calendars and he went. No lost wages, no guilt, no begging a boss for flexibility.
We even both attended her spring concert, one of us leaving work early while the other handled pickup for Milo. These school moments that build childhood memories don’t have to come with financial stress.
7) Birthdays that don’t break the budget
My mom was creative with birthdays, I’ll give her that. Homemade cake, a few dollar store decorations, and one carefully chosen gift that she’d been saving for months to afford. The party was family only because hosting friends meant feeding them, and that wasn’t happening.
This year, Ellie had ten friends over for her birthday. Nothing fancy, just homemade pizza and games in the backyard, but we could afford the extra food, the craft supplies for activities, and yes, even the bounce house rental that made her feel like the coolest kid ever.
We split the preparation, the supervision, and the cleanup. What would have sent my mom into financial panic for months is just a normal celebration for us.
8) Having energy left for bedtime stories
By 9 PM, my mom was done. Completely spent. She’d worked eight hours, commuted, cooked, cleaned, helped with homework, and handled whatever crisis the day brought, alone.
Bedtime stories happened maybe once a week, and even then, she’d sometimes fall asleep mid-sentence.
Every single night, our kids get stories. Matt does voices for all the characters while I snuggle with whoever needs extra cuddles. We’re not perfect parents, but we’re not exhausted parents.
We have energy left to be silly, to answer those endless “why” questions, to really be present for those precious bedtime moments because the day’s burden was shared.
Seeing luxury in the everyday
Here’s what I want you to understand: Single parents are superheroes doing the work of two people with half the resources. If you grew up in a two-parent household, you might not realize that your normal Thursday evening routine would have been our Christmas miracle.
And if you’re a single parent reading this, feeling guilty about all the things you can’t provide? Stop. Your kids will grow up resilient, grateful, and with a deep understanding of what really matters.
They’ll appreciate small joys that others overlook. They’ll be the adults who never take partnership for granted, who understand that having help is a privilege, not a given.
Sometimes I watch my kids casually expect both parents at their events, assume dinner will happen at a reasonable hour, and take for granted that someone will always be available, and I feel this mix of gratitude and grief.
Gratitude that they have what I didn’t, grief for the little girl who thought eating dinner before dark was fancy. Both feelings can be true.
The real luxury isn’t just having two incomes or two sets of hands. It’s having the breathing room to be present, the margin for error, the space to be human without everything falling apart.
That’s what two-parent households often take for granted, and that’s what single-parent kids learn to live without, building strength in the spaces where others have support.
