Last weekend I conquered one of my all time great parenting fears – I had to go it alone, fly solo with my son for four days, without the usually highly anticipated buffer of Daddy-time built in to the end of each day.

It became clear early on the only way we were to survive our solo stint (and subsequently, me stay sane) was to store my energy reserves and focus exclusively on my son. Basically this translated in to me declaring, “chores be damned” for an entire weekend and I took to the lounge, trashy mag in hand, during each one of Harrison’s day time sleeps like a sloth instead of racing the clock to tick off all the items usually found on my to-do list.

So yes, by the end of the four days my house resembled that of a break and enter – Harrison has spread himself far and wide flinging items with great delight the whole unit over. And of course, it did rankle my nerves but I knew all my precious energy needed to be conserved, and to be quite honest, although I had to work hard to ignore the ever increasing mess around me, it proved to be a nice break from the mundane.

Entering in to day three of our solo stretch and the perfect little man that had been my son for the last two days suddenly morphed into a little monster. And while we’d been out an about just the two of us, it became increasingly clear someone was getting sick of the sight of just one other face (could have been either one of us really!). So we packed up our little pantomime and moved it on to the Stewarts were Harrison soaked up the undivided attention of his devoted big cousin Logan. It was here things really unravelled when we got the scary phone call about my Nan being gravely ill, and it certainly put all my earlier silly fears into perspective.

That night I shared a room with my son, and at 5am when it became clear he wasn’t happy about sleeping in a strange room, we cuddled in my single bed, me seeking such great comfort simply by listening to the sound of his breath and having his little hand curl around my finger.

Worst thing about that though was, my wriggly son, whilst manoeuvring his way around the single mattress, in order to get comfy, found that the only way he’d sleep was to lay diagonally across it. Great for him, not so for me who was forced to virtually cling to the side and lay there wide awake trying not to fall off the edge!

So to single parents the world over – I stand before you and bow in sheer admiration! Sure, I survived, and secretly admit we had a lovely little time just the two of us (but, husband, when you read this, don’t go getting any ideas about taking off again soon please!). Perhaps the thing that worried me the most (besides the scary episode with my beautiful Nan) was the lead up to being left to go it alone. You imagine all sorts of worst-case scenarios coming to fruition. But when the inevitable day dawned and daddy had to leave I just told myself to suck it up and march on. And if that false bravado failed me, I just had think of the box of Magnum ice creams awaiting me at the end of the day to make me smile once more.