Heigh-Ho, Heigh-Ho, It's Back to Work I Go

Tomorrow will be my third day back at work after my “maternity leave” at home with Eleanor.  I use quotation marks (as sarcastically as possible) since I, like way too many women, do not get any paid maternity leave.  So, I did take off ten weeks (plus almost one week of doctor ordered leave prior to Eleanor’s birth), which was more than we could afford, but not enough for me or for Eleanor.  This country needs to support parents and children more.  We are drastically behind the times when compared to other developed countries.  I am tempted to drone on about this issue, but that isn’t what I was going to concentrate on during this post.

Aside from all of that, I know that I was lucky to have ten weeks at home with Eleanor.  The first ten weeks of a baby’s life are not easy; it’s tough to figure out what they like, get them on some semblance of a routine, and decipher their individual cries, wants, needs, problems, strengths.  When you look at a newborn, you will most likely think that they look like an alien and in my opinion, they all look fairly similar.  However, every single one of them is different (even if both of your daughters look very much alike in their baby pictures, they are different people).  What works for one, doesn’t work for another.  I will also resist the temptation to go on a rant about how we should all be supporting one another for how we parent, not judging each other.  Breastfeeding, formula feeding, attachment parenting, baby wearing, all of those things are dwarfed by simply loving your baby and doing the best you can. 

Anyway, I digress.  I was talking about going back to work. 

When you work full time and you have two small children, mornings are full of goodbyes.  It doesn’t matter how much you love that job, that doesn’t take away from the love you have for your family.  Each morning, no matter where you leave your kid, you say goodbye.  They have their day, separately from you and you have your day, where you do whatever it is you do and people actually forget for whole segments of the day that you even have kids. 

 

Being a stay-at-home mom would take a kind of stamina that I’m not sure I have. I have the absolute utmost respect for women (and men) who are stay-at-home parents.  Again, we need to spend our energy building each other up rather than comparing our lives and trying to one up each other about whose situation is the most difficult. 

I am not saying that I regret going back to work.  I’m not saying I wish I didn’t have to send my kids to daycare.  I’m not saying that I don’t value the things they will learn because of where and how they spend their days.  I’m not saying I’m not grateful for those who spend their days taking care of and loving my children.  I’m simply saying that being a parent is tough. 

Being a parent means you are still yourself, but you’re also different.  Being a parent means the love you have for that kid outweighs everything else.  Your professional life looks different, your personal life changes.  Being a parent means your time is divided in ways you never knew were possible (it makes me kind of want to punch younger Katy who thought she was busy before having kids).  This week I’ve been reminded that sometimes being a parent means that part of you wishes you were wherever you aren’t; when I’m working my thoughts are often with Amelia and Eleanor.  When I’m home, there are moments when I’m distracted by thoughts of work.  

No one’s life is easy; no one has it all figured out.  So, we’re just taking it one day at a time.  Tomorrow, that will be day three of back to work week for Katy.  It will be Eleanor’s third day away from me.  It will be another Wednesday at school for Amelia, another Wednesday at work for Adam.  We will all do our best, enjoy our day, be professional, concentrate on what we’re doing.  We will count our blessings once more, including the gift of another amazing and incredibly good baby.  But, we will all also, in our own ways, count down the hours until we come back together for the short time we have each evening before bedtime and could the days until the ever elusive weekend.   And, then, we will do it all over again.