Down Days

As of next week, I will officially have been in Virginia for two months and Kayla will have been here for slightly more than one. While we're starting to settle in and most days are good, I have to admit that I still have days where it's simply...hard.

I was so incredibly fortunate to spend that first year at home with Kayla. Being there for all of her firsts, for all of those amazing moments where the light bulb popped on over her head, was a precious gift. Being able to take afternoon naps after Kayla had a bad night...likewise, a gift. That said, there were days that I longed for the adult stimulation that work provides and there were days I longed to go back to doing something more intellectually stimulating than dreaming up new mushed food recipes. Now that I'm back here though, I realize how hard it really is to do it all. I'm certainly not the first one to talk about this - there is literature everywhere discussing these ideas in far more depth and eloquent detail than I will attempt here - but it has occurred to me many times over the past weeks that the "freedom" women now have to be both mother and professional, can be its own kind of prison. Certainly, being the feminist that I am, I am glad I have the choice. I am glad that I can choose to work and to raise my child. That said, some days when I am trying to be the best I can be at both of my chosen careers, I find myself feeling tired, a little overwhelmed and, sometimes, stretched a little thin. This schedule...I wake at 0600, hoping to get a shower and to get ready before Kayla wakes up. If that works, great. If it doesn't, it is rush rush rush to get ready while trying to entertain her, keep her happy and keep her from running off to find something dangerous to do. Not easy. Then it's rush to get her ready and to get us out of the house. We rush to daycare because if I don't drop her off early enough, then I don't get to work early enough and then I can't leave work early enough to get back to pick her up at a reasonable time. So, it's up at 0600, out of the house with Kayla by 0715. We get to daycare by 0730/0745 and I get to work by 0800/0815. I work my 8.5 hours and then rush back to pick her up, hopefully no later than 1715, so that we can get home no later than 1800 so that we have time to get her dinner before she is starving, to have some brief playtime together, to have time for a bath and for reading, singing and relaxing together before bed and then it's down to bed for Kayla by 2030 and, let's be honest, by 2130 for me. It's a packed day. And the hardest part is that this leaves me with essentially no "me" time. I have Kayla in the morning, then coworkers all day long, then Kayla in the evening and then one blessed hour in which I basically shovel down some dinner, brush my teeth, wash my face, climb in bed and maybe get in a chapter of my book. I'm not trying to complain. Obviously, there are people who have it way worse, but I'm trying to explain why some days...some days are harder than others. On the days when Kayla didn't sleep well the night before or when I have had stress at work or when Kayla has decided that it's temper tantrum time or when I realize that it's now been three months since I last got my hair done and my highlights start about mid-neck...well, those days are harder. Or one days like today, when Kayla reverts to clinging to me and sobbing hysterically when I drop her off...oh, God. I can't explain how horrible that feeling is...Even knowing she'll be fine before I've ever left the room, even knowing that she likely has a fabulous time playing all day, even knowing that she isn't really mad at me, she is only saying "I love you, Mama. Can't you stay and play too?" Even knowing all that, it still breaks my heart to leave her behind. The guilt of "abandoning" her every day is unbearable. And I don't feel it every day. Not anymore. But there are still those occasional mornings, like today, where I tell her goodbye while wanting nothing more than to pull her back into my arms and to take us both out to the park to spend a Mommy-Daughter day laughing in the sun.