The year was 1990. I was 7. I thought all moms stayed at home with their kids. That's just what moms do.
The year was 2008. I just had a baby. I had a flexible part-timeish job. I became a stay-at-home-mom. I had to make mom friends. Figure out how to make play dates (not totally unlike making real dates) and relinquish respect from everyone in the world, except other moms. It was hard as hell, completely under appreciated, sleep deprived and over-puked on, but now I realize, it was good.
The year was 2010. My husband got a promotion to a job traveling 3-5 days a week. The stay-at-home mom gig became a single parenting gig and it sucked. Big time. I love that kid to pieces, but preschool 2 days a week became my sanctuary. I'd drop him off early and pick him up late. I was that parent. Not because I was absent minded, but starving for time off from parenting solo
The year was 2012. Debt, marital stress and impending job layoffs sent me job hunting. Not a casual, part-time, flexible, all-fulfilling gig would work like most mothers envision. Mama needed benefits and a steady paycheck. I've worked for small businesses, where neither were promised, so the prospect of a giant corporation backing my bills was a little exciting at first. Cute "work" clothes and people judging me if I didn't shower was an idyllic prospect. (Moms have mom code: we don't judge if you don't shower-sounds good, but isn't cute.) My preferred job labeled me as "overqualified" after 5 interviews. Thanks Master's degree. Can I have a reimbursement on all those Starbucks drinks?
The year is 2013. Mom goes to work. Dad and kid sleep in. Dad feeds the kid breakfast. Dad does the laundry. Dad takes the kid to the library. Dad goes to the gym, does yoga. Mom goes to lunch with co-workers (I used to think heaven existed in meals that other people cooked, without children present). Dad puts the kid down for nap. Dad takes a nap. Dad takes the kid to the science center. Mom works 40 hours a week. Squeezes in a workout, while feeling guilty for taking time away from the kid for herself, then heads home at 5pm exausted. Dad got laid off and is the new stay-at-home-mom/dad. Cute? Maybe.
The house is messy, the kid is high on refined carbohydrates, undernapped, and overstimulated on 4 straight hours of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, but alive. In actuality, my house is probably cleaner than when I was at home. My child is better behaved with the enforcer around. And he is still fed too much white flour for my hippy taste, but you can't win it all. Really, my husband makes a fabulous full-time dad. While I don't think it's in the male blood, I think they need investment and productivity and progress. All of which is very hard to sift out of Dora The Explorer and cabin fever and coaxing another human to use a toilet quickly enough, but he does it well. I know both of us don't want these lives forever. But it is now.
This job has been the best and worst thing for me and our family. The best? Because it allows us to pay bills, drive cars and crazy things like eat fresh vegetables. It's given my husband and I a new appreciation for the lives we used to live. I thought nothing was more trying than 72 hours straight with an insensible 2 year old fit. Now I know insane bosses and purposeless reports can drain you nearly as much.
I miss my old life, he doesn't miss the same grueling, heartless corporate gig I now do for less money. I miss my freedom, calling the shots on where and when, and certainly, pouring my entire insides and energy into my little boogery ball of a child. That meant something to me and my life and purpose, this job does not. It's not fair, but it is what is now. Hopefully not forever will I have a job that dulls my sharpness and reduces my wit, but for now, it does.
The problem with this life now is that there's little me time. I like my me time. I loved my 1-3 nap time and fought for it ferociously when i had it. It wasn't a luxury, it was my one payment for mothering. My me time gets swallowed by trying to get exercise, asking my husband to stay a little longer at the library so I can come home to a quiet house, or my saturday morning sleep in amongst the racket of saturday morning cartoons and knocks on my bedroom door.
But I've come to realize this: there is no perfect. Full time mothering is not perfect. It is not continually blissful and filled of gracious children and family and people. It's under appreciated and overwhelming. And certainly filled with too much poo. But going to work is not perfect. You miss your child's life. The child who you are working the hellish job for, that child. Your energy gets sucked by making money for the man, and not feeding hungry children across the world. (I'm sure some of you do, and I'm totally jealous.)
But here's what we have: health, a reliable car, a place to live, an unemployed husband (oh, not you?), and still lots of debt. I guess we also have each other. Life may not always feel good, but we need to make it good in it all. Cheers to you mothers and fathers, to whatever you do with your time, you deserve a tall drink either way.
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