Always a Working Mother
One doesn't become a working mother. You're thrown into it. And on most occasions you dream of the greener grass. Days to spend with your child(ren). Endless hours of television. A house that's cleaner than it is now. And dishes that aren't always overflowing onto all the counter tops (or laundry overfilling hampers). But the reality is--working mother or not, all of the above happens. Life happens. Shit happens--and as mothers we find ways to pick up the pieces. Somehow.
And that is where I find myself today. Stuck in a work/life balance that really isn't a balance at all. It's drowned out by work. Work that is increasingly making me sick to my stomach and aching for a life that isn't as complicated or trying on my personal life.
Two years ago I would have made some psychological evaluation (with no education or premise to back me up), that this was cyclical. That after becoming mother, I wanted my "old" life back and pursued work. And once I did, I wanted a calmer existence back and then didn't want to work... and so on and so forth. In reality, I've always worked with both of my children. Never have I not. And usually, for me, I think this a good thing. It allows me to flex a different brain muscle, forces me to have adult conversations (even though they are about ROI, deadlines, and managing expectations), and gives me another "part" of my life that isn't all tied to family.
That is, until I land where I inevitably end up--with a project that sucks the life out of me and in turn hurts my family. I wonder than why the hell I do this to myself.
Obvious answer--money. Two incomes make life a ton easier. Grocery bills aside, we can afford a vacation every now and again. And when my laptop dies (like it did last week), we make accommodations fairly quickly. But what it doesn't do, is make up for the hours (and bills) I spend on day care while I go into the office. Or the hours I don't have with my kids. Or the amount of stress that spills over into coordinating yet another schedule between doctor appointments, picture days, and soccer practices. And that's just the kid stuff. Try eating between back-to-back meetings, a project meltdown, and a VP that decides a project must happen Today.
In the end, it's all fruitless. We work so we can spend time with our family. To vacation. To spend money on whatever it is we like to spend it on. But what the working doesn't give you--are those unlimited hours of fun with the kids. Or the mundane activities like dishes and laundry. Or just be you. In fact, I spend more time trying to relax when I am away from work, than I do enjoying myself.
Maybe it's because I'm a worrier at heart. I worry about my decisions. My Life. My children. My husband. My job. The fact that I haven't had a hair cut in like 12 weeks. All of it. It consumes me most days. At least until I start checking off my list of worries. Check it off, and off it goes to the bottom of the list until the next time around. But I'm digressing (again).
Frankly, I'm stuck. I'm in the middle of madness that has consumed me for the last 2 weeks. And honestly, if I look back at the month before that, I'd been consumed then too. Just not admitting it. And now I am in a precarious situation... how do I dig myself back out. Do I talk to The Boss again? Do I leave? Do I find a place that makes me happier? What really does make me happy?
There is no simple answer. There never is. But this I know. I'll always be a working mother. Just hoping at some point, it might be at home, in my pajamas and staring at a computer screen. Instead of in an office, in ballet flats and some too tight blouse that's trying to pass for sophisticated.
And that is where I find myself today. Stuck in a work/life balance that really isn't a balance at all. It's drowned out by work. Work that is increasingly making me sick to my stomach and aching for a life that isn't as complicated or trying on my personal life.
Two years ago I would have made some psychological evaluation (with no education or premise to back me up), that this was cyclical. That after becoming mother, I wanted my "old" life back and pursued work. And once I did, I wanted a calmer existence back and then didn't want to work... and so on and so forth. In reality, I've always worked with both of my children. Never have I not. And usually, for me, I think this a good thing. It allows me to flex a different brain muscle, forces me to have adult conversations (even though they are about ROI, deadlines, and managing expectations), and gives me another "part" of my life that isn't all tied to family.
That is, until I land where I inevitably end up--with a project that sucks the life out of me and in turn hurts my family. I wonder than why the hell I do this to myself.
Obvious answer--money. Two incomes make life a ton easier. Grocery bills aside, we can afford a vacation every now and again. And when my laptop dies (like it did last week), we make accommodations fairly quickly. But what it doesn't do, is make up for the hours (and bills) I spend on day care while I go into the office. Or the hours I don't have with my kids. Or the amount of stress that spills over into coordinating yet another schedule between doctor appointments, picture days, and soccer practices. And that's just the kid stuff. Try eating between back-to-back meetings, a project meltdown, and a VP that decides a project must happen Today.
In the end, it's all fruitless. We work so we can spend time with our family. To vacation. To spend money on whatever it is we like to spend it on. But what the working doesn't give you--are those unlimited hours of fun with the kids. Or the mundane activities like dishes and laundry. Or just be you. In fact, I spend more time trying to relax when I am away from work, than I do enjoying myself.
Maybe it's because I'm a worrier at heart. I worry about my decisions. My Life. My children. My husband. My job. The fact that I haven't had a hair cut in like 12 weeks. All of it. It consumes me most days. At least until I start checking off my list of worries. Check it off, and off it goes to the bottom of the list until the next time around. But I'm digressing (again).
Frankly, I'm stuck. I'm in the middle of madness that has consumed me for the last 2 weeks. And honestly, if I look back at the month before that, I'd been consumed then too. Just not admitting it. And now I am in a precarious situation... how do I dig myself back out. Do I talk to The Boss again? Do I leave? Do I find a place that makes me happier? What really does make me happy?
There is no simple answer. There never is. But this I know. I'll always be a working mother. Just hoping at some point, it might be at home, in my pajamas and staring at a computer screen. Instead of in an office, in ballet flats and some too tight blouse that's trying to pass for sophisticated.
Labels: motherhood, working
