Parenting in our house is a team sport. Joe and I try to help each other, back each other up. I can’t begin to imagine how hard this would be for me without him. I can’t imagine what single parents deal with.

And I’m going to take a moment to acknowledge and honour just how much I don’t understand how single parents – including my own mother – get through it day after day. I have one child, I have a partner and family support, and I struggle.

The fact of parenting, though, is that Joe is a father and I am a mother. We came into this with different experiences and we have different struggles. We have this child who treats us differently, has different expectations of us and different demands for each of us.

Sometimes you just feel alone in the middle of a crowd.

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We want to be a team, but sometimes we end up in a yelling match just desperate for the other one to understand our side of the experience.

There’s this little heart-filling, adorable and frustrating wedge that we have to figure out how to work around.

I feel responsible. Of course I do, I let her get away with things. I was with her every moment for her first year, I’m with her every day now. I live and die for her.

Here’s my husband, who has given up his time for us. He goes to work and we get to have fun. He watches her life from the sidelines so often, and still I choose her. She is my heart. He owns only part of it.

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