Tuesday, March 13, 2007



This working and mothering thing? Not so easy.

Okay, so most of the time, we achieve a reasonable balance. I admit, my job is easy on the family in that I work early hours, am home most days by 4:30, and almost never work overtime.

This week? Flaming exception. Between last Tuesday and yesterday, I put in more than 18 hours of overtime, including a marathon 12 hour stretch on Sunday.

There was a considerable amount of mommy-guilt on my part, being away from the family that much, but with a remarkably small amount of grumbling, Beloved picked up the slack. Dinners were made, nobody ran out of underwear, and while the cupboards are now stocked with Lucky Charms and Bear Paws and Oreos instead of, say, things we can actually eat for dinner and the house looks like warring tribes pitched a four-day battle in it, we made it through the worst of it. I've been loving the work I am doing, and really enjoying the challenge of crisis communications.

Yesterday, I had to drop everything on the backs of my colleagues because Tristan spiked a fever so bad we were doing the two-hour rotation of Motrin and Tylenol and I had to stay home with him.

His fever isn't entirely better today, so Beloved and I played a round of "why my work is more important than your work." In the end, I gave up and called the caregiver and asked her if Tristan could come, with the fever. She said of course, I hung up the phone and promptly burst into tears. This is the caregiver we are letting go. I'm afraid I'm making a mistake. I should be home with Tristan when he's sick. I have a crapload of work to do today, and there's no sign of it letting up for the next week at least, maybe two.

Did I mention my in-laws are on their way for a two-day visit and will arrive in time for dinner?

Edited to add: the caregiver called shortly after lunch, saying Tristan was crying and asking for me. Within 10 minutes, I was on my way, thanks in no small part to the help of my boss, who finds more ways to endear herself to me each day. By the time we got home an hour later, he was - of course - feeling better. The boys are currently watching Toy Story 2 and eating popcorn, calling each other Captain Underpants and Doctor Diaper.

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