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My son woke up with a cough today. You know what that means…mass panic and mild hysteria as my husband and I tried to assess how serious the symptoms were, whether he really needed to stay home, which one of us had a busier workday, whether the ear thermometer was accurate, and which one of the four thermometer readings we should believe. By all accounts, his temperature was under the 100 degree cut off, so we decided to bundle him up and bring him to school.
I spent the entire commute feeling horribly guilty and like a terrible mother. Shouldn’t I have stayed home so he could rest on the couch while I cooked chicken soup? And if I’d stayed home might we have prevented an even worse cough or cold from developing? Was my daughter going to catch it?
Well, by the time I found a parking space, booted up my computer, and grabbed my first cup of caffeine, the child care center called to say I should come get my son. “He’s not feeling well,” they said. “He really needs to be home.” Two hours later he was planted firmly on the couch while I was in the kitchen heating up some Campbells.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what it is going to be like for NewMom the first day she takes NewGirl to school. I’ll never forget how small CommuterGirl looked when we went for our first visit. We had planned to visit together; but the infants were going on a walk so I sent her along while I stayed behind and finished the enrollment paperwork. Well, that was the idea — instead I sat on one of the little chairs in her new classroom and cried.
CommuterGirl was almost 4 months old and I was convinced that her first day at school without me would be a disaster…she was a breastfed baby and wouldn’t take a bottle very well; we had stopped having my mother babysit since the majority of the 2 hours would be spent with CommuterGirl screaming louder than we could imagine until she was back in mommy’s arms. She even screamed when I left the room while she was with Daddy.
On the first day of school CommuterDad “just happened to be at home” (yes, I have a great husband who knew I’d need a shoulder to cry on), so we dropped her off together and went out for lunch and ran some errands. Four hours later we went back to school to find a happy little girl who hadn’t cried once, drank a whole bottle, and had a “great time,” according to her teachers. That was the beginning of CommuterGirl proving me wrong.
Holy mackerel! I have never known exhaustion like I know now that I’m pregnant. It happens at home on the weekends — at 11:00 a.m. — maybe two or three hours after I just woke up from a full night’s sleep.
The other day I told NewDad that I was just going to take a brief rest on the hardwood floor in our new house where we have no furniture yet. No joke — four hours later I awoke with a furniture pad covering me for warmth. And now it’s happening at work. With almost no notice, I could rest my head on my keyboard and not awaken for another three hours. I’ll be in a meeting and the conference table will suddenly look like a heavenly place to rest for the afternoon. About half the days of the week, I am completely non-functional after 2:00 p.m.
Most people don’t even know I’m pregnant yet, and I imagine they must think I’ve totally lost my edge. But if you’ll excuse me now, I think if I can just curl up under my desk beside my hard drive for a power nap, maybe no one will see me.
Last week I had a series of early meetings, culminating in a 10:30 appointment with the CEO and president of our company. My workday was scheduled to start at 7:45 which meant that I needed to be at the child care center when the doors opened at 7:00, settle the children in their respective classrooms, and race to the office. Admittedly, I was concerned that even with impeccable planning I wouldn’t be able to get there in time…that I’d dash in 20 minutes late attributing my tardiness to traffic.
I prepared as thoroughly as possible the night before: packing lunches, laying out clothes, putting breakfast on the table and toothpaste on the toothbrushes. And, to my great delight and surprise, the morning routine went off without a hitch. I made it to work on time and sailed through the first couple of meetings.
I had a 20-minute break before the “big” meeting, and it was then that I nonchalantly glanced down and noticed that with my knee-length skirt I was wearing two different boots. One was brown and the other black. One was pointy and the other rounded. Perhaps most alarming, they were different heights. So much for impeccable planning. Had the dozens of people I’d seen that day noticed and been too polite to say anything? Did they think I was starting a new fashion trend? Were they just as bleary-eyed as I was and oblivious to my fashion faux pas? I raced to PayLess Shoes a few blocks away and bought a pair of new boots. Who would think that a pair of $20 shoes would become the most valuable in my closet?
I took my first trip away from home without CommuterGirl. Yes, she is 13 months old, and other than going to school, and spending an evening with Grandma, she has never left my side. I learned a lot on this trip.
1. On the plane I can read People Magazine (or my book if I choose to be more literary) and nobody is going to bother me for anything other than to offer me a drink and a bag of pretzels.
2. I missed CommuterGirl, but I survived.
3. CommuterDad CAN handle everything on his own. Walking the dog and getting CommuterGirl off to school is possible when there is only one of you.
4. Two nights was long enough.
5. I’m extremely grateful for CommuterGirl’s teachers. Reading her daily notes when I got home helped me feel like I hadn’t missed so much!
6. I love camera phones. The highlights of my trip included the pictures CommuterDad sent of CommuterGirl.
7. No matter how much you want to wake your daughter up when you get home from a business trip, don’t do it. (Luckily, I didn’t have to learn that one the hard way!)
8. It is true, you never love anything as much as your own child. Being away from CommuterGirl for the first time since she was born really proved that to me.
Oh, and yes, it was a productive trip from a work perspective as well. The next trip - 4 nights...can I handle it?!?!
It was just a few short months ago that I would see a glowing beautiful pregnant woman at work and wonder, “How does she think about anything but that perfect round belly and the baby inside all day long? She can’t possible get any work done, and who would blame her? Someone give her a crown just for showing up at the office, for goodness sake!”
Now that woman is me. You can give me the crown, if you’d like — I’ll take it. But truth be told, work has become my refuge from my own pregnancy. It’s the one place I don’t think about being pregnant every hour. It’s the one place I don’t indulge my every whim. The fact that there’s no queen-sized bed and fluffy pillows, no TLC, Game Show Network, or daily reruns of Sex in the City helps, of course. But the fact is, work gives me a purpose and reminds me in just a normal regular way that I have other responsibilities and that while a huge part of my life is about to change, there’s a lot that will still remain the same.
While I’m headed into uncharted territory as a first-time mom, the familiarity and affirmation of a job I know how to do, and do well, may just be the sanity saver I need.
The other day I got an e-mail that a respected colleague was leaving the company to be a “full-time mom.” The same day, I read an article stating that both Kate Winslet and Gwen Stefani have put their careers on hold to be “full-time mothers.”
For those of us who work outside of the home, it’s impossible to ignore the implication — if moms who stay home are “full-time mothers,” we must be “part-time mothers.” Funny, I didn’t feel like a part-time mother at 3 a.m. yesterday when I was trying – unsuccessfully – to get my 1 ½ -year-old daughter back to sleep. And I didn’t feel like a part-time mother at 4:30 a.m. when my 4-year-old snuck into my bedroom to ask if it was okay to sleep on the floor. There was nothing part-time about getting two kids woken up (more or less), dressed, fed, somewhat clean, loaded into the car, and dropped off at school in time to be at my desk by 8:00. And during the workday there are inevitably doctors appointments to make, calls to check in at school, and various other “mommy details” that need attention.
The time, energy, and resources I devote to my children far outweigh any other aspect of my life. Whether or not I’m physically with them around the clock, I am always their mother…all of the time, full time.
It’s amazing what you can get done in a one-hour commute — make a grocery list, call a long-lost friend, debate with CommuterDad about what to have for dinner (“What do you want?” “I don’t care, what do you want?” We could do that for hours!!), send/read a few e-mails on my blackberry (I wouldn’t suggest this unless you are stuck in traffic), make a list of what needs to go to school with CommuterGirl tomorrow morning, clean out my purse, and listen to a book on tape.
OK, so I don’t really do all of these in one commute, but maybe during the course of a week. A year ago I never realized I could be so efficient. Having a baby sucks away all of your personal time; not that I’m complaining, I love nothing more than spending time with CommuterGirl. But, I’ve never cared less about what I look like when I leave the house than I do now…I just want to make sure the baby looks good. At least when CommuterGirl is at school, doing her own multitasking (reading books, chatting with the other babies, laughing at her teacher, eating, playing with toys, practicing her walking, etc.), I can try and focus on work for a few hours and actually get something accomplished. Then, back to the car for the drive home — and a few more items on my commuting “to do” list.
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