Hear that noise? No? Me neither.

It’s 9:30 in the morning on the first day of school. That sound? Dead silence. I can actually hear the wall clock ticking. First time in months. Blessed relief. I exhale the breath I realize I have been holding since March.

Just yesterday the house was full of the sounds of my kids – the TV playing endless episodes of “The Office” on Netflix, someone singing offkey to whatever music he was pumping through his headphones courtesy of Spotify. Intermittent bumps as one kid played mini basketball in the basement. The sound of the microwave door slamming shut as someone made a snack. Drawers opening and closing. The toilet flushing – or perhaps it was the shower actually getting a workout? Judging by the noise, you’d have thought I had half a dozen kids, but it’s only two. But then again, there may have been a friend unaccounted for in the house as well.

In a normal year, the summer would have been busy: one son off to a summer job in an out-of-town locale for a few of weeks; the other away at summer camp for a month. August would have been spent travelling as a family and hanging out at the cottage. Between these various activities, I would have gotten a grand total of maybe six days of not having to parent either child. I live for those six days per year.

As a single parent with no nearby relatives who can take the kids occasionally, I am “on the job” full-time for most of the year. It has admittedly gotten easier as the kids have matured, but there is still parenting fatigue – especially as their willpower and wiliness grows with their years. In normal years, this has led to attempts in the form of gentle persuasion through to pointed suggestions to send them off to overnight summer camps, foreign-language immersion out of town and other creative avenues to place them in the custody of presumably trustworthy adults (a.k.a. strangers) for at least a week or two per summer. One child is more amenable to this than the other, so I have usually ended up “half-parenting” instead. A change is as good as a break, right? Or that’s the conventional wisdom anyway. Either way, I’ll take it!

But this year options were limited, with overnight camps cancelled and the summer job put on ice. Instead the summer was an extension of the school year: a lot of time spent together at home, minus the schoolwork, but with the continuing battle to get the kids off their tech and outside during the good weather. Mostly a losing battle. At least the return to school means I can park my guilt for a few hours per day.

Having the kids home full-time for six months has been insightful in many ways. I discovered our enforced family confinement simply distilled my teens’ inborn personality traits down to their essential essence. Unfortunately, they figured out quickly that schoolwork submitted after March Break could not reduce their marks. Consequently, the over-achiever took the opportunity to work harder than ever to increase his already impressive average. The hedonist, on the other hand, did the minimum required despite my stern edict that all schoolwork, optional or not, was to be completed to a high standard and submitted on time. I also (re)discovered what I already knew: I have no interest in homeschooling my kids. I’m happy to pay my taxes and let the professionals do what I won’t try at home.

Food was another opportunity to see my kids’ true characters in action. I hoped that with less stress and activity, the underweight kid would finally eat more due to expending fewer calories while holed up in his room. Alas, reminders and threats to eat more, more often, did little to add to his weight. Meanwhile, the kid who loves to eat simply ate more, mostly due to the lack of physical activity and ultimately out of sheer boredom. And so did I. COVID weight gain ensued.

Holding my kids to account wasn’t my best skill either. The omni-present crumbs and unwashed dishes strewn throughout my normally tidy kitchen (and beyond) offended my OCD tendencies. Constant reminders to clean up after themselves brought minimal results and I had to resort to full-blown mom freak-out fits to get their attention. This wrought miraculous improvements for about two days (who says teens are self-absorbed?). Thereafter I quietly reassumed the duties of being their housekeeper.

Somewhere along the way I also became my kids’ chauffeur. Truth be told, I was always their chauffeur, but in the last few months the details changed. Initially there was less driving with all activities cancelled – no music lessons or sports activities to which to take them. But as things have slowly opened up again and they have clamoured to see friends, I have found myself doing more “social driving”. I encouraged bike riding, but with the increase in traffic, their safety on the roadways of our busy city became a concern. So they drive me mad and I drive them away from the house.

To be sure, returning to school under the current circumstances will be no panacea, but the fights about homework and bedtime will feel blissfully normal. And all the things that have been parked or deferred over the summer (or, more accurately, since March) will come flooding back to create some semblance of routine. …

In the meantime, I have a few hours to be home completely alone for the first time in months. What to do? Sweep up the crumbs and collect the stray plates from throughout the house, of course! Oh, and complete my paid work. But in the blissful silence. It may well be the first time in my life that I welcome the fall.