I was driving home from work today around 2 p.m., which is about as abnormal as it gets for my work-day. I got a phone call from C's daycare about 20 minutes before that letting me know she was complaining of an earache and crying.
I drove down 7th east with a whirlwind of thoughts running through my head.
I wonder if she has a fever.
Advil as soon as we get home, and movie-madness-rest-time.
I need to log into my computer ASAP.
I have a meeting in 5 minutes.
And another call after that. Ugh.
Hopefully Alex can handle any follow up questions until I can join the conference call.
I'll have to make sure C is quiet.
What if she cries?
What if Winston starts freaking out...
Maybe I could be muted most of the time? No.
Everyone is just going to have to deal with my noisy shit.
And then all of those things came to a halt and I thought...being a Mom is really, really hard. Being a working mother is even harder.
It's a double edged sword.
At any moment, there is a sacrifice being made. Either I'm sacrificing time with my daughter, or I'm sacrificing time in my career.
Both are obviously very important. My Little C trumps everything, but I also need that career to support the two of us.
So on my drive to pick up my sick little babe, I'm contemplating all of these things. If only she was feeling better, I could still be working towards a promotion. I could be once step closer to getting that gleaming "Associate" title next to my name. I could be finishing a review meeting for a filing to the Federal Reserve, and I could still lead a call after that from the comfort of my cozy little desk downtown.
But, if I was still there, I wouldn't get to snuggle my beautiful babe. She wouldn't be able to lean into me while I cruise through Excel spreadsheets on my laptop. I wouldn't be able to take her out early to grab some pizza with Mr. Steele. {Pizza heals all wounds, or Mac & Cheese in C's case}
I'm really trying to appreciate these difficult moments for what they are: Moments. Small moments in time where I feel like a fucking psychopath.
Sure, it's hard.
Sure, it makes me feel like my head might explode.
Sure, I want to quit.
But, I won't. Because, I know that I have it in me to finish what I've started.
In the words of Amy Poehler:
So, there you have it.
-Stef
I drove down 7th east with a whirlwind of thoughts running through my head.
I wonder if she has a fever.
Advil as soon as we get home, and movie-madness-rest-time.
I need to log into my computer ASAP.
I have a meeting in 5 minutes.
And another call after that. Ugh.
Hopefully Alex can handle any follow up questions until I can join the conference call.
I'll have to make sure C is quiet.
What if she cries?
What if Winston starts freaking out...
Maybe I could be muted most of the time? No.
Everyone is just going to have to deal with my noisy shit.
And then all of those things came to a halt and I thought...being a Mom is really, really hard. Being a working mother is even harder.
It's a double edged sword.
At any moment, there is a sacrifice being made. Either I'm sacrificing time with my daughter, or I'm sacrificing time in my career.
Both are obviously very important. My Little C trumps everything, but I also need that career to support the two of us.
So on my drive to pick up my sick little babe, I'm contemplating all of these things. If only she was feeling better, I could still be working towards a promotion. I could be once step closer to getting that gleaming "Associate" title next to my name. I could be finishing a review meeting for a filing to the Federal Reserve, and I could still lead a call after that from the comfort of my cozy little desk downtown.
But, if I was still there, I wouldn't get to snuggle my beautiful babe. She wouldn't be able to lean into me while I cruise through Excel spreadsheets on my laptop. I wouldn't be able to take her out early to grab some pizza with Mr. Steele. {Pizza heals all wounds, or Mac & Cheese in C's case}
I'm really trying to appreciate these difficult moments for what they are: Moments. Small moments in time where I feel like a fucking psychopath.
Sure, it's hard.
Sure, it makes me feel like my head might explode.
Sure, I want to quit.
But, I won't. Because, I know that I have it in me to finish what I've started.
In the words of Amy Poehler:
"I like hard work, and I don't like pretending things are perfect."
So, there you have it.
-Stef
