While Jack was gestating I worked two jobs. Both were part-time and I quit the one that had me on my feet about 6 weeks before Jack arrived. As for the other job, I still have it. I work predominately from home with the occasional meeting that puts me back in dry-cleanable clothes. At home I work out of a little armoire where my computer lives and all the accoutrements of my old desk and file cabinet corner.
So, techinically, I’m not a 100% Stay-at-Home-Mom. (Just 87% or so.) I’m grateful we’re able to manage this. It’s cut back on some of the fun frills– I sorely miss having the occasional twenty dollar bill in my pocket that isn’t earmarked four times over for something. But the alternative would be dreadful. I can’t imagine, when Jack is grown and off traveling the world with his band and their #2 on the chart rendition of “Jingle Bells!” and distinctive jumping dance moves that I’ll wish, “If only I’d spent less time with him and spent my day at the office!”
I pity Robby sometimes. He’s a great Dad. And he’s ridiculously good at working in as much time with Jack as possible– it’s Robby that feeds Jacky breakfast and Robby that puts him down for the night. Still, there are all sorts of little things that transpire in the hours while Robby’s off earning an income that cannot be replicated. The crazy energy of mid-morning, mid-week, is not the same energy as mid-morning, weekend. Even the hellish hour before Robby comes home while I try to make some semblance of a meal and Jack is torturing the poor Little Black Dog is something one has to witness in it’s immediacy.
It’s not that I’ve got little bluebirds of happiness fluttering around my headbanded head– I relish the chances to get away once in a while. My niece babysat the other day and I giddily went to the market. When Jack was at his grandparents last week Robby and I almost ran out the door to go to a heavenly grown-up Sushi place with our pal Nat. The luxury of not timing every aspect of a meal to a toddler’s mood is beyond describing.
Today I was not so grateful feeling. A series of little skirmishes with the Little Tyrant left me exhausted before 10 a.m. So I rallied the troops. I took Jack to Target. Just to get OUT. I used the flimisiest of excuses to look for a thing I “need” and ended up spending 15 minutes in the Thomas-the-Train aisle of the toy department. Jack reluctantly left (reluctantly is a nice way of saying I had to carry him kicking to the front of the store). We had a lovely little “conversation” where we both agreed to cease fire before heading to the local Greek diner for a grilled cheese (he) and cup of soup (me). And somewhere, over the cost of this $7 lunch, we remembered to take great delight in each other and the people around us.
Seven dollars would dry clean one work outfit. I think I got a better bang for my buck.
