Tales of a Business Traveler's Wife: Single Mom Syndrome

I do not claim to have the abilities, stamina and focus of a single mom.  I have only dabbled in the craft a true single mom must master for as long as God has her in that role.

However, I have lived a single mom existence in the short-term because my husband travels for work.  When a person has a spouse who leaves town for a few days on business, or on military duty for much longer periods of time, she takes on a very different life in comparison to those who live every day and sleep every night in the same home.

When I have parented alone I have done so with the knowledge that I will have my partner back with me in a matter of hours, days, or weeks, at most. When he has other roles in faraway places, I keep the  schedule going here, taking what comes as gracefully as I can.

Some days, that's not very much.

  

When I ran the show on my own, I didn't use an iron fist but I did sometimes sit in the Director's chair with a megaphone.  Some of the grace I might have offered got squashed by desire to get through the day without a hitch and with my sanity intact.  I didn't invite God in to guide me, and neither asked for nor took advice from anyone.  Not asking for God's guidance put me on the "I am" track.  I am in charge.  I am good at this.  I am responsible.  I am independent.  

I forgot one:  I am mistaken in thinking any of these.

The Single Mom Syndrome that this Business Traveler's Wife wired for herself had much to do with remaining as Director all day, every day, even when my husband had returned from his journey.  The will to remain in charge -- not lose an ounce of control over the home and hearth production, steeled inside me.  I couldn't lose the edge.  Couldn't let the cast go to another director who may ... gasp ... change the direction of the entire production! 

I had settled into my role of housekeeper, disciplinarian, fact checker, banker, taxi service, laundress, cook, personal trainer, hygiene attendant, gardener, and one-woman show very easily after years of practice.  Seasoned.  That described me.  I knew the ropes, all the lines, and how to deliver them.  I lacked only the star on my dressing room door illustrating my diva-nity.  

My husband probably appeared a mite confused upon his grand entrance into our home as he shook the cares of the outside world from his shoulders after each trip.  I don't recall these moments, too busy to pay attention to that detail.  He entered the scene to some, "Hi, Daddy" chirps and a peck on the cheek from his still-directing wife.  Feeling ill at ease at his "Director" status missing from the marquise, omitted from the script and a mere hint as a supporting player in future family scenes, I know he felt written out of the script at times.

He had only a bit part.  His speaking part barely existed, and I prompted him on it, believing he needed guidance.  He did not know the sequence of the daily scene.  More prompting from me, more of me believing he didn't get it.  The child actors did not always submit to his authority.  I stepped in to direct them ... and him.  He had little stage presence, looking kind of lonely and out of place against the activity of the rest of the players.  He began to wonder if his wife has written his character out of the production, and if his children even knew he existed.

When my bad acting finally dawned on me  -- like a giant, wooden disk-like sun falling full-force on my head -- it took more than a little practice, relearning of lines and rehearsal to get the scene back to a quality level again, worthy of performance on the home front and in the real world.  

Any wife can make these changes, whether her husband travels or not.  If a wife runs the show, directs the action and takes supreme creative control, she can change, with the help of God in self-control.  It took me years to figure it out, mainly because when our children were very small, they excited easily at Daddy's return, and my role more naturally swayed to his lead.  But, as the children aged and grew accustomed to the leaving and returning rotation, they took Daddy's arrivals home in stride.  Nothing new, nothing exciting.  Poor Dad!

In order to return my Dear Director to the privileges of his position, I did the following:

• PRAYED.  I had taken on a larger role for a long time, and had gotten out of hand.  I needed God-inspired guidance in this.  I couldn't and still can't do it alone.
• Learned to prepare our children (pre-teen age) for their dad's arrival, making sure they had cleaned up their messes and attitudes, and offered a proper, loving welcome to the man who provides for them.
• I remembered that though I could manage the entire production alone,  I didn't want to do it full-time, and that I hold the Assistant Director's role in our marriage, allowing my husband the Director's chair advantage and working closely with him to manage this difficult production called "Marriage and Raising Children."
• I gave up the desire to have things run the way I thought best, and learned to brainstorm, compare, contrast and blend the desires of my husband with mine, and follow his very capable lead.
• I had to remember that not every line started or ended with me chiming in with an opinion, an aside or a rebuttal.  Each actor has his own lines, and my preferences don't override theirs. 

My husband dove right in to leading again, sincerely asking my opinion, seeking my input in decision-making and even deferring to me in certain situations.  Sha-zaaaam!  Unexpected!

When I stepped into my God-given role of help-meet and left the leading to my husband, I relaxed.  He relaxed!  Our home life settled down to a manageable level of hubbub.  Our children still perform sibling rivalry at Oscar-level caliber, but they handle themselves with greater pride and look to their dad for guidance, usually more often than they look to me.  I'm the comforting parent, he's the action guy.

When I continually seek God's guidance in parenting and in marriage, and seek my husband's preferences, opinions and concerns next, I feel confident of the path to take, and find the Assistant Director's job easier than when I took a higher role.  Now, when I step up to lead in the absence of my husband, I don't try to outshine him, I don't act alone, and I can't wait until I can share any issues and successes with him.

I've discovered that the Director and Assistant Director work closely, and when the roles require some reversal, the change happens fluidly, naturally.  The way God intended.  When the reversal has served its purpose, we return to our roles without fanfare and with smooth transitions.

If I had paid attention to the Almighty Director in the first place, we would have suffered a lot less heartache, disappointment, failure and misspoken lines.  We would have shared the script, learned our parts and moved on to future productions with the grace God has offered all along.

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