Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Working Mom's Buzz

I am a working mother. I work 8-9 hour days. Add in the commute and ultimately I am away from home for up to 12 hours every day. My son is in day care, with a group of women I need to trust with every ounce of my being. My parents are nearly 8 hours away, my in-laws about 6, and my husband is pursuing a new career, but must first complete studying for his second bachelor's and master's degree. Day care is our only option.

I am plagued with guilt almost every day when I set my son on the floor at day care, place a toy in front of him, hoping that it will distract him long enough for me to make a quick, stealthy exit. I know that, depending on his mood, he has the potential to look at me as if I am the cruelest person in the world for leaving him there. I get in my car, and drive to work.

When I come home, he's there waiting for me with his daddy and I am almost 100% of the time greeted with a squeal and a smile. I have roughly 2-2.5 hours with him until it is bedtime. Within this time, one of us will cook, we eat and feed the baby, then clean up. Next thing I know, we have an iota of play time, then he is sleeping.

There are days where I feel the pang inside my stomach, the yearning to be able to stay home with my son every day. I see friends who are stay-at-home moms who can nurse on demand until age 1 and who can make their own baby food. If I close my eyes and envisioned perfection, that would be it. Almost.

Almost? Why almost? Here's why: I studied for four years to obtain my bachelor's degree. I busted my butt and landed myself a great full-time job with a company excellently positioned and a boss who was amazing. Working in this position for about 2.5 years prepared me for where I am now. After a short stint as a slave, er, I mean administrative assistant, I am finally working a job where I get to do something I love: write. I LIKE going to work. I LIKE my boss, my floor, how I get to spend my day. Not to mention... my paycheck is a necessity.

I am a mother, yes, and my son has fulfilled me in ways I have never imagined, but I am also 25 years old and have (I hope) a long life ahead of me. I'd love to spend my day with my son, playing, reading, going for walks, but, and here comes the other sense of guilt: I want, and need to be working.

I like adult interaction and conversation, I like people respecting my opinion and I LOVE being complimented by people with hefty titles on articles I wrote (oh, yeah - that happened).

So, here I sit, staring at fork in the road and really no option but to go in this direction -- working.

I like to live by the idea that 50 years from now when I have dentures, need a hearing aid and am sitting on my front porch swing with my beloved husband, I won't think back and say "I wish". Regrets happen, but I try with all of the power within me to not have any come knocking at my door. Everything happens for a reason, I believe that, and I plan to look to my husband and say, "I'm so that glad we..."