In August 2019, my ex-husband moved out of state. I was suddenly a solo parent to my two young sons, then just 2 and 5.
My kids and I stayed in the three-bedroom ranch that we had bought before my second son was born, and within its walls I tried to create stability through upheaval.
That house saw it all: my divorce, the pandemic when it became a schoolhouse, and the growth of my marketing agency at the kitchen table. Yet every room still echoed with ghosts of my marriage, and the invisible labor of being a solo parent was incredibly heavy.
One icy morning in 2022, while dragging garbage cans down the driveway, I decided I couldn’t do it any more. What began as a half-joking text to my mom and stepdad, “What if the boys and I moved in until I figured things out?” became the catalyst for the most unexpected fresh start of my life.
I went from survival mode to stability
At first, I felt embarrassed. I worried people would see moving back home as failure. But the truth wasn’t that I couldn’t afford to be in our house anymore — it was that I no longer wanted to. The upkeep and silence of parenting alone each night had just become too much.
In March, we moved into my childhood home. My mom and stepdad stay downstairs, and the boys and I took over the upstairs: three bedrooms and a bathroom, including the very room I grew up in.
We cleared out old furniture, laid new rugs, and furnished it with a mix of family pieces. In my own room, I set up my childhood bed with fresh sheets and a mirror my sister gave me. I see it as a symbol that reflects not only my image but the person I’ve become through this transition.
Now I’m sharing the load of single parenting
The invisible labor of solo parenting is something that is rarely talked about. If you’ve ever sat at the table with two tired kids, trying to finish homework while cooking dinner and folding laundry, you know the overwhelm. There’s literally no one to tag in.
That changed when we moved in with my family. My stepdad cooks dinner almost every night. My mom keeps fruit stocked for the kids. We split bills in ways that make sense, and we share groceries or treat each other to takeout.
The biggest gift is what I don’t pay: rent or a mortgage. That freedom allowed me to invest the profits from selling my home into the startup I co-founded with my sister. Without that support, I couldn’t have built my career, kept a flexible schedule, or shown up as the mother I want to be.
My kids gained a lot, too
As someone who was close to my own grandparents, nothing warms my heart more than watching my sons build rituals with their grandparents.
My stepdad is the ultimate fixer of broken toys, and he and the boys share holiday traditions. My mom makes sure they have costumes and art supplies for every project. They’ll sit together for long conversations about science and history — conversations I often don’t have the bandwidth for after long days.
Interestingly, the hardest part of moving back home was learning how to ask for help, and then being open to receiving it. I had been so hyper-independent as a solo parent that it felt unnatural to let my parents step in. But over time, I realized that accepting support didn’t make me less of a parent, it made me a stronger mother.
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