How Do Single Moms Date Over Christmas Anyway?

My youngest son caught me covertly texting while I was making the eggs Benedict on Christmas morning. His older brothers were still elbows deep in their stockings, cozy in their matching plaid pajamas, relaxed in the happy sameness of our usual holiday routine. The big fruit and homemade cinnamon buns we snacked on while we opened our stockings, A Christmas Story playing in the background. The plate of Santa’s half-eaten cookies perched on the coffee table with his elegantly scrawled thank you letter already forgotten on the floor beside it. The older boys did not seem to feel even the slightest shift in my attention.

My youngest was a different story. He came marching in the kitchen and loudly asked who I was texting. I felt caught out. Red-faced. God help me but when they all glanced up with mild curiosity from the sofa to see what I was up to, I considered lying for a split second. I nearly told them I was on the phone with their grandma but we can all see where that might lead. The “let me say hi!” or “ask her XYZ” follow up questions would be a problem.

And so I said, “No one really” which was a lie but ambiguous enough to keep life moving along. Because I was texting the man I had recently started seeing. A man I missed on Christmas morning. A man who, for the first time in years, had the power to actually distract me from my favorite thing in the world: Christmas morning with my kids.

We were both single parents, both pretty adamant about keeping our lives separate in those early months. It was fun at first, this little bud of a secret between just us two. His daughter was in my son’s class and we would smile at each other at school pick up, an exciting little reminder that yes, we both had a person. Yes, we both had plans on a Saturday when our kids were gone. A real joy that neither of us took for granted. On the weekends when our kids were gone we took turns cooking for each other at our houses. We watched movies and went for walks and when the weather started to turn at the end of November, it was like we were living in our own cute little snow globe.

I started to daydream about our time together. My head full of potential winter outfit choices, imagining my mittened hand held in his as we walked in the snowy woods together before going for hot chocolate and then presumably having sex to warm up afterwards. Good sex, comfortable sex. Middle-aged sex, which I was learning was highly underrated.

Then the holidays kicked into full gear. Our pre-snow globe lives became the main event. We had no time for each other. Our kids had tight schedules of memory-making for the next few weeks and needed us to have our eyeballs trained on them 24/7. It was the season of “watch me, Mom. Watch!” and “Don’t forget to buy my teacher a present.” and “Can we take 10 of my friends sledding on Sunday and then watch Christmas movies?”

This new man and I decided to just check in with each other now and again and pick things back up when our kids went to their other parent’s house the day after Christmas. Which was right and fine and sounded easy enough.

Except we couldn’t stop texting each other. When I think back to that holiday all I can really picture is my phone screen and our running commentary about every mundane moment in our days apart. Which might have seemed cute and charming, except I had four sons who needed me to make Christmas magical for them instead of online shopping at Victoria’s Secret for some red lingerie to wear when I saw my boyfriend again. Or trying to come up with sound excuses to see him while I was wrapping presents/grocery shopping/building a gingerbread house with the kids.

Dating at Christmas was turning me into a teenager again. I felt sneaky and distracted, a bit belligerent and sulky. I was meant to be the founder of the feast, as I had been every year, and instead I was the pouty teenager with her arms crossed at the dinner table. I was secretly texting a boy I liked on Christmas Day and getting caught by my son. It was all very confusing.

We got through the holidays and if my distraction ruined anything for my sons, they’ve never mentioned. When I finally made my way to my boyfriend’s house, giddy and excited, we found the magic had faded. We found ourselves distracted with thoughts of our kids. We talked about them constantly, what they were doing, what they would be like when they came home again, which presents were a hit and which were a miss.

And I guess this is the truest thing about dating as a single parent: On some level, no matter where you are or who you’re with, you feel like you’re supposed to be somewhere else.

Even on Christmas morning. Especially on Christmas morning.

Jen McGuire is a contributing writer for Romper and Scary Mommy. She lives in Canada with four boys and teaches life writing workshops where someone cries in every class. When she is not traveling as often as possible, she’s trying to organize pie parties and outdoor karaoke with her neighbors. She will sing Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” at least once, but she’s open to requests.