I often find myself blogging about the sunshine and roses of
parenting. The good moments, the happy stories, the recipes that tasted
straight out of the cook book. However, this is really only telling half the
story of my journey as a working Mom.
That’s not reality. My life as a working Mom is not all
sunshine and roses….its …well… rain and weeds sometimes. So I thought I’d start
a blog series where I share those weeds. Some confessions from the dark side of
working motherhood.
Here goes nothing:
Confession #1: I feel
REALLY guilty.
I am the first to admit it that I have a great working Mom
life. My job is amazing to raise children in. I’m able to work my job, leave
early to rush to the dance studio, head the baseball field, etc. I don’t work nearly
the nights and weekend hours that my partners do.
For many years when my kids were really little – my personal
life was very manageable. Now my working life and personal life have exploded
and I am constantly on the go. I spend more time in my minivan than my house it
seems. And this reality causes things to get missed and people to get caught in
the cross fire.
One person always comes to my mind….poster child of my
working Mom guilt: L.
Yep, if there was a face to my guilt…it looks like this:
L is the youngest of the three – following a (near) 7 year
old sister and a 5 ½ year old brother.
L and I have had so much against us from the start. See,
when I had J, my first baby, I had all the time in the world. She was rocked to
sleep every night, she got a whole song book of lullabyes, we visited every
children’s museum, had art on Sundays, we took walks just to take them. She got
all my attention. All the time.
When H came around 15 months later, you would think he would
have to share my time. Well, it just so happened that H was a difficult baby
due to his colic and ear problems. My husband couldn’t deal with the screaming
baby anymore than he had to and so we had an unspoken arrangement of "you (Todd) take
care of J (the easy one) and I’ll (me) take care of H". So H still got all my
attention, and although I had to split my time between my babies, he still got
pretty much everything his sister did, with some minor exceptions.
And then came L. It was such classic foreshadowing of my
life that L was taken from my immediately from the time he was born (he
swallowed fluid coming out). I spent the first 3 hours of his life, begging,
pleading, and yes telling the entire hospital I was a lawyer and would sue them
if they didn’t let me see my baby. They finally took me in my hospital bed down
to the NICU to see him.
Then of course, my anesthiologist screwed up my c-section
and failed to give me morphine. Meaning that I was in massive pain following
the surgery. So much pain that I hardly could hold L in the hospital. And my
recovery was painful and long.
And as was my luck, L was an amazing baby. Slept through the
night, hardly cried, easy peasy. This meant that my husband now had more
difficulty with the dramatic 4 year old and active 3 year old in our house. This
lead to another unspoken policy of “you (Me)deal with the two of them, and I’ll (Todd)
have L”.
Reality stepped in with three kids. I was suddenly pulled in
three directions. Where as J got a songbook of lullabyes, L never got rocked to
sleep. L spent the majority of the first year of his life in car-seats sitting
at dance studios, soccer fields. I hardly had time to lay on the floor and play
with him because the house was always a mess, laundry was always piling up. And
if I did lay down with him the two other vocal children always had something to
pull me away.
I look at L now and I can’t believe he’s three. My last
child and I really didn’t get a chance to enjoy the moments. They flew by – I’m
never going to get to do this again and I’m missing so much. Reality keeps
getting the way – life is moving too fast.
Yet somehow even though Mommy is always on the go – L became
a notorious Mama’s Boy. Of my three, he is the one that refuses to be away from
my side. With my other two if you bring in Nana or a shiny new toy, they don’t
even know I’m in the room, but L? L cries every time I leave the house. In
fact, he always has his shoes on because he always wants to be ready to follow
me whenever I head for the door. And if that doesn’t break your heart…I don’t
know what else will.
This leads to an incredible amount of guilt for me. The
other day Todd told me L had a field trip to the zoo at school – I had no idea about
the field trip. I cried all the way to work that day – I had never missed a
field trip for J and H, and here I had to miss this one. With J being a
competitive dancer, and H playing sports I am always on the run with them. I
often spend my evenings sitting in a dance studio hallway.
There are nights I find myself rushing fast through his
favorite lullabye – there are nights I forget to read his favorite Good Night
Good Night Construction Site. At age three, he takes more showers than bubbly
playful baths. Nights like those I lay there in bed and feel incredibly guilty
and see the dark side of being a working Mom.
The other night the kids were outside playing with the
neighbors and of course L was inside the house with me cleaning the kitchen. I
looked at him. He looked so old to me. All of the sudden it was like a little
boy was standing there, not a baby. My kitchen was a mess, I had a ton to do –
but I didn’t care. I picked him up took him into his room and we sat on the
floor and played cars. And we played and played until it was so dark the kids
couldn’t see outside. It was a great night. A night I truly felt at peace.
I know those nights are few and far between – I can’t
promise with my crazy life of running around that things aren’t going to be
missed. But all I can do is focus on the time we do have together and make sure
I make it the best.
Sometimes reality sucks.
Mandi