Balance

OK so typically I feel really good about being a working mom.
But every now and then that guilt settles in - and so does that overwhelmed feeling.

When you are at work, you feel guilty for not being at home.
And, when you are home, you are guilty for not being at work.
When you do house work, you feel bad for not being with the baby. And, when you are with the baby, you look around and see all that has to be done (well, for the most part you are just psyched to be with the kiddo..but you know what i mean).

How do the women who do this well, do this?
Deep down - I wonder...Do any of us actually totally rock it - or are some of us are just better at covering it up...

Now, it might sound like I am complaining, but really I am not. It's more like that saying, "an embarrassment of riches:"

I love my job (and am glad I have one), and I worship my family (and am glad I have one).

Sometimes, I guess...you just get tired, ya know? How the H do single moms do this? If i ever win the lotto my mission will be to help them.

On a sort of related note, the mom of a beautiful little baby at daycare posted this on her Facebook page (And I could not agree more)

Tell Me About It

Carolyn: My best friend has a child. Her: Exhausted, busy, no time for self, no time for me, etc. Me (no kids): Wow. Sorry. What'd you do today? Her: Park, play group . . .

OK. I've done Internet searches; I've talked to parents. I don't get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please, no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners. . . . I do all those things, too, and I don't do them every day.

I guess what I'm asking is: What is a typical day, and why don't moms have time for a call or e-mail?

I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events), and I manage to get it all done. I'm feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy — not a bad thing at all — but if so, why won't my friend tell me the truth? Is this a contest ("My life is so much harder than yours")? What's the deal? I've got friends with and without kids, and all us child-free folks get the same story and have the same questions. — Tacoma, Wash.

● Tacoma:
Relax and enjoy. You're funny. Or you're lying about having friends with kids. Or you're taking them at their word that they actually have kids, because you haven't personally been in the same room with them.

Internet searches? I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard.

To claim you want to understand — while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are that your mom friends are either lying or competing with you — is disingenuous indeed. So, since it's validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get.

In list form. When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, clean, dressed; to keeping them out of harm's way; to answering their coos, cries and questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times; to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired or bored, any one of which produces the kind of checkout-line screaming that gets the checkout line shaking its head. It's needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15. It's constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier. It's constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family members and friends, well-meaning and otherwise. It's resisting the constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone's long-term expense.

It's doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything — language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity, empathy. Everything. It's also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy — and then when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, you wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend — a good friend wouldn't judge you, complain about you to mutual friends or marvel at how much more productively she uses her time. Either make a sincere effort to understand, or keep your snit to yourself.
~reprinted without permission

Anyway, I should sign off and hit the sack.
Loves!