Balancing act

As you know, I’m a full-time working mommy. D turned 7 months old yesterday, and I have been back to work since she was just over 3 months. So I’m pretty used to the routine by now.

I was very fortunate, too, because my husband (from now on referred to as R, because it’s easy and I’m lazy :)) was able to take almost 2 months of parental leave when I went back to work so we didn’t have to send D to daycare until she was 5 months old.

Knowing she was home with Daddy made my transition back to the grind MUCH easier than if I had to ship her right off to strangers on the same day I had to return to face my office all hormonal and miserable since my baby had just been ripped from my arms. Well she obviously hadn’t been, but that’s what it felt like. Or would have, had I had to take her to daycare right away. But I digress…

Lately a battle has begun brewing inside me. And no, it’s not that ice cream from last night that caused the hellish dream.

Before I went back to work I wracked my brain trying to think of any way possible to stay home with D. R even conceded that if I could figure out something that would just cover our house payment I could be the stay-at-home parent. Alas, I failed, so back at my desk I sit each day.

Things have been going well too – we’re very happy with our daycare, D loves seeing the teachers, and I no longer feel like I’m about to melt into a puddle of tears each time we drop her off. In fact, we leave smiling every morning because D is so enthusiastic and ready to start the day.

However, I’ve been getting increasingly restless at work. Certain things have been a little off ever since I returned, and I’m just sick of feeling like I’m in a constant struggle. I have worked at this job long enough that everyone knows I’m good at what I do, or else I wouldn’t still be there. So this nagging suspicion that I’m slowly trying to be discredited or even eventually replaced is getting quite annoying. I have been assured numerous times that this is not the case at all, but you know when you get a feeling that you just can’t shake?

That’s where I am right now. How long do I want to stay where I’m uncomfortable? And if I am just being silly and my role is not in jeopardy at all, what has to give before I finally am convinced once and for all? It’s hard because some days are great, and I leave work feeling like all is right in the world. Then the next day I’m right back down in this rut. It gets pretty exhausting.

Another massive roadblock – the paycheck. Yes, it’s nice to have and necessary to continue living where we do currently. But I learned a long time ago that money definitely is not everything.

That’s another thing about my job. I have worked in this field for about a decade now with a short break thrown in for some much-needed and fully-enjoyed play time, and the whole time I have been surrounded by people whose lifeblood consists of how much money they are making, losing, and moving around. That’s just not how I’m wired. I do what needs to be done from the time I walk in the office door until the time I leave, and I do it really well, but when I go home, I go home.

I am a firm believer in leaving work at the office so I can spend time with my family, so when I get the impression that that is frowned upon, I get frustrated.

Without my paycheck though, we’d have to do some serious tweaking of our budget and lifestyle. That part wouldn’t be all that hard – we’re not ballers or wasteful spenders and we already have some good savings underway. But basically all extracurricular activities would have to cease, which I think we would miss more than we realize right now.

I also constantly wonder what effect this choice will have on D.

Will she grow up resenting me for not staying home and spending this precious time with her, or will she respect me for helping R provide for our family so she and any future siblings hopefully don’t have to want for much?

I hate that I have to miss so many hours with her every workday. How many milestones are her daycare teachers getting to witness that I’m missing? I still haven’t seen her roll over yet. But in all honesty, I’m not sure she even does roll; I think she just likes to wiggle around on her stomach until someone pushes a toy within her reach because she’s so cute. ๐Ÿ™‚

On the flip side, picking her up each afternoon is wonderful – seeing her face light up when she sees me walk into her room washes away any negativity that may be leftover from work.

Then there are days, too, when I question whether I’d even be a good SAHM. Daycare sends lesson plans home each week for D’s room, and there are activities on there that I know I probably wouldn’t get a chance to do with her each day. How many days would I actually find time to read books, sing songs, play numerous games with multiple toys, finger paint, play with snow, make art projects, and on and on and on? If I’m brutally honest with myself, probably not nearly as many as they do at daycare, which is every day.

So there’s that aspect too. Could I do it right even if I had the opportunity?

So you see, the balancing act between mommy and career girl is tricky and tends to give me fits.

Am I doing a good job? Am I doing a bad job? D seems happy, so I hope I’m doing a good job, but then again, she’s only 7 months old – I could put a dirty rag over my head, pull it off, and shout “Peekaboo!” and she’ll be happy, so that really has no reflection yet on these major life choices I’m making.

I do take solace in the fact that R and I are having fun starting our little family, and our house is full of love, so hopefully that’s a good sign. I just wonder how long I’ll have to walk this tightrope…. I hope I don’t fall off!

 

 

Wait, what??

I wasn’t lying when I said I have some of the craziest dreams ever dreamed. And lately, a lot of them have been the kind where you’re so relieved they were only dreams when you wake up that you practically jump out of bed just to make sure.

Case in point, this morning:ย  I dreamed I was watching some sort of demonic horror movie (why? who knows), when it suddenly poured out from the TV into our living room. A priest, or some other holy man of the cloth, was stabbing at a covered cave-like structure that was growing out of our coffee table. Turns out, as soon as his walking stick-turned-spear burst through the covering on said cave, the utmost wrath from the depths of Hell was going to spew into our house. Fantastic, a party! Remember the movie The Gate? A similar gaping fiery hole was preparing to swallow me up. But the terrifying part was that our sweet baby girl (I’ll call her D from here on out for simplicity) was napping on the coffee table right above where all this was taking place!! Our beautiful angel was snoozing away on the brink of Hades, utterly oblivious to the surrounding chaos. WTF?! I really hope it wasn’t a sign that little D will have to encounter a massive struggle between good and evil in her life. Ugh. Then again, why was she napping on a coffee table when she could so easily roll right off and crack her head on those jagged rocks leading into Hell? Bad mommy.

Good lord, no more ice cream before bed.

Anyone else’s dreams verge on the insane, or am I just a lucky one?