I’m back to work. I’ve been back to work for some time,
actually, and while it has not gone perfectly at least we've
maintained a functional home and family while we’ve managed the transition. I
do work full time, a little more than 9-5 Monday-Friday, and O is in full time
daycare as a result. I like his daycare quite a bit - at times I have more
confidence in their ability to care for him than in my own parenting skills (seriously, these
people are educated in early childhood development, know all the words to “The
Wheels on the Bus,” actually seem to enjoy the album of kids’ songs that appears
to be playing on a loop and makes me want to attack the stereo with something pointy, etc.), and at the moment the plan is to continue this
arrangement indefinitely.
It’s a good setup, all things considered. There’s just one
problem: it has no built-in redundancy or failsafes. This doesn’t sit well with
me – I’m the person who enjoys having NASA-level control over logistics. And
boy, have those logistics gotten more complicated since we had a baby: I will take this car here and you will take
that one there so you can pick up this other person but do not park in that
lot, park in this other one, because your car has the stroller in the back and
mine has the car seat base and the diaper bag and on and on and on….
For instance, our daycare routine has only one arrangement
where it really works: I wake up at 6 AM, I take care of the cat and the dog
and breakfast and packing a lunch and pumping some breastmilk and, oh right,
the baby also needs to be changed and fed. I try to arrive at daycare right
as they’re opening the infant room in the morning, then hightail it to the
office; at 5 PM, I finish up whatever I’m working on to rush back to the car
and do it all in reverse. If I forget one single chore, or I leave one tiny
item out of my pumping bag, it all falls apart. It feels like a minor miracle
that on most days, our household functions as well as it does. And it’s to the
eternal credit of our extended support staff – my wonderful husband in
particular, plus our friends and neighbors – that we’ve navigated hurdles like
O’s first cold (actually, make that his first five colds) and several late
night and early morning meetings for my job.
Here’s the thing: I’m actually really happy at the moment.
Yes, I’m exhausted, and yes, most days are some degree of stressful. But most
days are also pretty successful. (And let’s not forget that in stark contrast
to the last year, I’m not wildly hormonal while also trying to process some huge
life changes.) But the same personality traits that make me love the NASA-esque
organization stuff – and that make me love my job – are the ones that keep me
up at night wondering what we will do in the future.
This arrangement will work at most until O is ready to start
kindergarten, so what, another four years? My own mother didn’t work when I was
young and I treasure the memories of meeting up with her after school. There’s
also a practical component to having an adult in the household who doesn’t work,
or who works part time; my vision of O’s future doesn’t include the frantic
must-get-all-chores-done-on-the-weekend pattern we’ve fallen into so far. I
want him to have adventures and opportunities to volunteer and time to explore
music and sports and art that we can’t provide at our family’s current rate of
speed. It seems incomprehensible that I won’t be available to offer him the
same kind of care that my mother offered me, but it also seems incomprehensible
that there could be a day in the not-so-distant future that I would leave the
workforce with no plans to return. And what
if we have another child?!?
Bear in mind, I don’t think I could have written anything
less original if I had tried. I could probably hyperlink every single word in
this post to other sites where women (and not a few men) are also debating the
balance between work and parenting. These are not unique, or unanticipated,
concerns or fears. But they are real ones.
And they all center on the same thought that keeps popping up when I’m
puzzling over this in the middle of the night, or stuck in traffic, or packing
up my pump for the millionth time: what’s best for me personally might not be
what’s best for my family. For now. I think?
