*Note: I wrote this a few days ago, and then I hesitated to publish this because it seemed whiny. Well, it is. Sort of. It’s my whiny and I’ll hit “publish” if I dare to.
All mothers (and fathers) work, and it is hard, rewarding, amazing, humbling work.
But this is for those of us mothers who also have a job outside of the home.
Am I crazy? I’m not trying to be superwoman, right? We aren’t crazy. Today is just one of those days. Please, someone out there tell me you know what I’m talking about.
In the past few weeks I have spent a few extra hours talking, laughing, crying and raising my fist in solidarity with other working moms who are scheduling meetings around nursing schedules and feedings and school pick-up and drop-off times while I was juggling a sick kid at home during a home office day and conference calls.
Just this morning, both my boys claimed illness before I had had a chance to make myself a cup of coffee. My husband had to go into the office by a certain time and since my office is downstairs I got the delightful job of trying to gently cajole and then outright threaten them with cancelled play dates to get out of bed.
Boys 2, Mom 0.
Maybe they really are sick?
I try not to get angry at my husband as he leaves. I know he worries about the boys, and he feels bad that I have to stay home and reschedule meetings and phone calls, write deep and moving blogposts, close the books on a training seminar day, finish some work-related reading on leadership and diversity while tending to two boys who will spend the rest of the day complaining about being bored because the fever never materialized. And in the midst of that I can’t get past the crumbs all over the counters and table and floors, but I will manage to get past the clean laundry sitting in a pile on the couch.
I’ll just move it when I need to collapse later.
I try not to get angry that when he comes home he gets to “help” me, which I know he doesn’t mean it in that way but when I’m tired and cranky (for those of you with young children, you will still have tired and cranky moments with teenagers because by then you are older and have a lower threshold) I can’t stand the fact that he gets to “help” me as if the expectation is that it’s all my job – the kids, the home, the job outside of the home – and he gets to help.
I remember a few times having to listen to both men and women marvel at how Peter managed at home with the baby and then the two kids and now three kids while I traveled. One person even used the term “babysitting”.
Babysitting?
Fathers do not babysit their own children!
And while I do have fun on my business trips (if you love what you do and respect and enjoy the company of the people you work with and for work can be fun), it’s still work.
I try not to get angry, because we both have chosen this lifestyle and agreed that for the time being I will bring in some bacon and fry it up in a pan even though as a woman I need to work 23% more to earn at the same rate as my husband. I try not to get angry, but I certainly have moments where I feel crazy. Today is just one of those days.
And to top it off, I gave up nail polish and candy for Lent…
Gotta go. The little guy is hungry.