I’ve been a parent for almost 18 years now and from the absolute get-go, the whole idea of combining a job and motherhood has made my head hurt.

It’s not that I do not like working. I actually do really enjoy a lot about working — most especially the simple act of doing Great Work. The issue for me is that these two things — motherhood and work — compete against each other. They are arch enemies, standing at opposite ends of town, waiting to duel.

And I am standing right there between them, in the line of fire. Sometimes I can dodge the bullets…like the times when school gets out early, after-school care is CLOSED and a friend offers to pick up the kids for me.  (Terese, you are an angel!)

Other times, I get hit.

Like the morning, when my husband had Very Important Visitors from Corporate Headquarters in town (from Europe no less) to meet first thing in the morning, I had a huge marketing proposal to get out first thing in the morning, and my 5 year old proudly announced, “Hey Mommy! My pee is RED!”

Red.

As in Panic Button Red.

Ka-pow!

The first thing we did was make sure our son was ok, and he was, aside from the very scary-looking pee. Then my husband and I looked at each other to figure out who wasn’t going to work that day. I knew from the look on my husband’s face that it would be me — I was ok with this because of course, I want to take care of my child. But it’s that pull I felt at that moment — of NEEDING to be in two places at once, of knowing that someone, in this case a whole team of someones, was going to have to scramble in my absense — that makes combining motherhood and working suck sometimes.

So why does there have to be such a division between work and motherhood?

Why can’t the two things be combined in new, creative ways? 

Why can’t those dueling enemies meet in the middle, shake hands and come up with something that doesn’t make my head hurt?

It’s certainly what I’m working towards, that’s for sure. 

p.s.  the boy turned out to have a bruised kidney and is all better now.  But yes, it was one heck of a day!

Emily at almost 18 and YoYo the Cat at 15

Back in January 1992, I was camped out on the couch, big and pregnant, on bedrest with dangerously high blood pressure and an attractive case of cankles. I worried non-stop for four solid weeks as I waited for that baby to be born – hoping she was ok, hoping I was ok, wondering how we’d pay for the house we’d just bought, and on and on. I was also unbelievably tired of waiting, waiting, waiting and not terribly thrilled with being told to do nothing. Nothing. All. Day. Long.   There I was,  feeling as if time was standing still.

I had no idea just how fast time would move after that.

The time since that boring month in 1992 has been anything but dull. That baby showed up, a day before her due date.  We got her a kitten when she was 2 — we still have that cat (see picture).   She returned to that same hospital where she was born three years later to welcome her new baby sister (she’d asked for a baby sister for Christmas and by golly, I delivered). Her life was turned upside down when she was 5 and her father and I divorced, but she got through it. She walked down the aisle as a flower girl when I got remarried in 1999. Over the next few years, she welcomed another baby sister and a baby brother, and moved to the side amidst the chaos of little kids in the house.

It’s been a busy time since she first showed up. Non-stop busy. While I’m not big on the whole idea of regrets, sitting back now and reflecting on the last 18 years with my first child, I can only say that I had no idea so much time could pass so quickly. I have three more children, ages 14, 8 and 5. If I’ve learned anything from watching my first child get to adulthood, it is this: I want to slow down. I want to stop more, so I can enjoy and savor the moments as they happen.

Because they sure grow up fast…  (but I think that cat might live forever)