Working Mom Blues

Until I became a mother I never really understood or even knew about the tension between stay at home moms (SAHM) and moms who have paying jobs outside the home. See? I can't even say "working moms" as a shorthand because the SAHM cabal will scold me and remind me that "we are all working moms."

The debate used to be about who had it harder - the mom who never gets a break from her little tyrants and has keep the household running or the mom who might have time away from her children while putting in her 40-50 hours a week but still has to grocery shop, do laundry, keep house, make dinner, pay bills, etc.

As a mom with a paying job, I always felt that my ilk has it a bit harder especially if one is single like me. I do get time away from MyKid but going to work everyday is not exactly "me" time. My butt has to be in the company chair from 9 to 5 (more or less) each day, rain or shine. I have to wake up early and hustle us out the door everyday no matter if either of us is lacking sleep or otherwise crabby. I have to do all my shopping during weekend hours when the stores are really crowded. I stay up late at night to get laundry done. I attempt to serve healthy balanced meals everyday. I have been know to vacuum at 4 am. The bottom line is that I have a lot less flexibility in my day. Things have to run like clockwork. And I miss MyKid all day long.

But all that is beside the point nowadays. The debate has gotten more complex. Working at a paying job or not seems to be a barometer in certain circles for how devoted one is to one's children. I have found myself in uncomfortable conversations with other mothers who tell me that if I just made some sacrifices I, too could stay home. Just give up that annual vacation to a tropical location. Drive a cheaper car. Move to a cheaper house. Stop going to Starbucks. I have been lectured ad nauseum about how raising her child is the most important, most difficult, most rewarding job any woman can have.

For me, as much as I would love to, it ain't gonna happen. I am fortunate that Babydaddy does financially contribute to MyKid's support but the amount he contributes is not enough to live on. To make matters worse Babydaddy is no longer interested in living in a single household together so I have the sole resposibility to put a roof over our heads . I am the one who will be putting MyKid through college. I already live frugally but I there is just no way to stop working altogether or even part-time. Tell that to the SAHM cabal and get scolded for making the bad choice to become a single parent in the first place. (fuck you Dr. Laura!) It is a no win and I am not even trying to win. I am just trying to love MyKid and do my best for him.

This is coming off like a bitter rant. That is not my intent. I know some amazing moms, some with paying jobs and some without. Most of my mommy friends and acquaintances take the attitude that each family has to do what is right for them and pass no judgment. That is my general attitude as well.

I am just thinking a lot about this today because after our usual morning hustle, my hour commute to downtown LA, and about an hour in my cubicle, I got a call from the preschool. MyKid vomited on himself and needs to go home. Fuck! I have a deadline to meet and I was already pushing my luck.

I called Babydaddy but he is having some absenteeism issues of his own at work and could not comfortably leave. I called my sister who also works 9-5 but works in the Valley and can sometimes help out. No luck there. I even broke down and called Babydaddy's mother who does not work, lives close by and yet never seems to be available when MyKid needs her. She never answered phone and doesn't have a carseat anyway.

I bit the bullet, went into El Jefe's office and delivered the bad news that I had to leave but would try to work from home the rest of the day. He rolled his eyes, sighed tiredly, and waved me off. He has two preshoolers. And a stay at home wife.

When I walked into MyKid's classroom, he gave me a cheerful grin and reported proudly "I frowed up." Then he ran off to the playground where I had to fetch him, fend off his tantrum about leaving his playmates and bring him home. He begged to stop for french fries on the way. Real sick. Damn it! I was secretly counting on the fact he would be so sick that I could justify putting him to bed, turning on Noggin and working the rest of the day. Wait a minute! Did I just admit to letting the WonderPets babysit MyKid? Did I just wish that MyKid was sicker than he is? I sound like a lazy, evil mother with her priorities out of wack.

Maybe they're right about me after all.