I need to pivot.

On FIFO life, solo parenting, and finding joy in fluidity.

My husband is travelling for work and we’re figuring out how to balance living with the realities of life.

But this isn’t our first foray into Fly In Fly Out and, after a shamozzle first week and manageable second, I think we’re landing on a better approach.

The work trips started about 10 years ago when we lived in California. He would fly to Pittsburgh to consult banks and eat pierogis, while I stayed in L.A. building my wellness business and frequenting farmer’s markets.

Next, he joined the crew in Silicone Valley and we marvelled at the sparkling water dispenser in the Google office over FaceTime.

For a long while the distance served us well: we could pursue our careers in the places they were best suited, we had personal friendships and a weekend shared social circle, we watched vetoed TV shows, and I slept diagonally without needing to share the blanket.

We had space to be individuals and felt excited to reunite.

But once our sons arrived, travel became markedly less…exotic.

He felt guilty for being away, I felt resentful for having to stay.

Enthusiastic “welcome home” conversations were replaced with roughly scratched life updates on a torn piece of dining table art.

COVID gave some reprieve but then we moved states (thrice) and the frequent flyer miles started stacking.

2024 was a break from regular trips —a day here, two there — but they were neither extended nor regular so we pretended it didn’t impact our family routine.

But this most recent bout of separation isn’t just a blip.

Twice a week, my husband boards an interstate plane during the darkest bookends of the day and I shift gears into what life looks like when he’s away.

In some ways, it was easier when the boys were very little and always at home.

Now they’re (barely!) older — 4 and 6 — they each have their schedules, schools, little mates, and big opinions.

The youngest still needs help taking off his pyjamas and our eldest is often lost in a magical state of daydreaming that I envy. (Good for seeing the world through an expansive lens. Tricky for getting out the door by 8:15 am)

There are separate drop-offs, pickups, and unified emotional meltdowns by bedtime.

Wide-eyed pleas — can you play with me?
Rapidly followed by where’s dinner, I’m hungry?

(In what mythical universe can these things coexist?!)

Then, there’s life admin and home responsibilities and local clients, and no matter how we slice it, someone has to keep things running.

Historically, I chose to cope with these changes via sheer efficiency: pressing pause on small moments of wonder to stay ahead of necessary big tasks.

I pivoted away from who I was to who I needed to be, so often in fact that I coined this, The Chameleon Effect.

I burnt the candle at both ends until I burnt out.

So this time, I’m testing solo what I’ve been writing about for a while.

I’ll do less.
To experience more.

Self-regulation in the form of searching for seedlings, courageous enough to pop their heads into a world of ravens, slugs, and small fingers who love pretty things.

But what does that look like from a day-to-day reality?

First of all, it’s acknowledging that this is hard.

Solo parenting is hard.
Changing time zones to go to work is hard.

But it’s also beautiful and expansive.

This is why I’m trying to embrace our current situation with fluidity, a few non-negotiables, and a whole lotta grace.

Some days that works better than others and those days feel good.

Secondly, hasten the day for recognition of domestic duties.

“Doing less” doesn’t actually mean I’m doing less.

That’s laughable.

It means that I’m not putting myself under pressure to start additional work at 9 pm after a full day of All The Things.

This isn’t Trad Wifedom, just simple mental health.

Read: Martyr Mother, Mother Matters

Finally, when life gets rocky, we circle back to our values.

If you don’t know why you’re doing something it becomes a lot more difficult to see it through. FIFO life doesn’t exactly align with our family values but there’s a reason it has to happen, so it’s our responsibility to accept the big picture (for now), and then fold meaning into the rhythms of the day.

Some days I feign enthusiasm for values, other days I embody it — it’s a process :)

Clock the creepy scarecrow and mudpit in the back. This is real like, folks.

I also need to set tangible goals for myself that hold the possibility of seamless transitions, even if such transitions don’t exist.

Here is what I’m toying with for next week:

• To have space to create beauty and share joy.

• To reduce the feeling of fragmentation in an undeniably fragmented day.

• To prioritise self-care a little better than I’ve so far managed.

Also to remind myself, that even though we’re in this season of pressure — young kids, rough economy, early years of mortgage, building job security — we’re also in the thick of Life.

And I, for one, am not keen to miss it.

What about you?

Are you also pivoting? What’s your process for welcoming change and holding space for beauty?

Until next time,
Jenn xx