And then there are days that are not like that. At all. That is the day I had today.
I started off by losing my temper. I’m not proud to admit it, but one of the girls’ very favorite toys is the exact same toy that I despise. It’s a baby stroller. They each have one, courtesy of a great friend with little girls about the same age who gave it to us for Christmas.
The girls play with their strollers non-stop. And they adore them.
Mommy hates them because they’re so stinkin’ loud and somehow, even though they each have their own, it ends up being an argument every day as they try to steal both for their own use.
This morning was one of those days where the squabble got out of hand. And I lost my temper. And then I acted shamefully toward my husband. And hastily left the scene of the crime to get ready to go to staff meeting.
Outside the bedroom door I heard Mia ask Isaiah, “Is Mommy still mad?”
When I exited the room Maggie approached me and said, “Mommy? Mad?” while patting my cheeks with concern.
I felt about two inches tall but the reality was that I was still mad.
Later in the day we had a group naptime and I ended up with Mia curled up on my left side, head cradled against my baby belly, Maggie tucked against my right shoulder. The baking babe was happily tap dancing on Mia’s head, Mia was blissfully unaware.
I slept for awhile with the girls, but then woke up and spent some time in thought. I felt the heaviness of their sleeping bodies, I noted the sweet, sweaty heads against me, drank in the smell of them that is slowly changing from baby to person smell (maybe I should say ‘stink.’ Depends on the day!).
I realized that I can tell the difference between them just by listening to the sound of their breath whistling in and out of their bodies.
And I wondered, have I hit a time when I am finally ready to exchange achievement and drive and pursuit of an outward goal for... Contentment? Satisfaction?
As I held them I realized just how incredibly precious they are. That my time with them can only be considered a time of ultimate stewardship. That someday in the not too distant future, the “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” pleas for attention that drive me batty now will be silent or replaced by conversations that Mommy is simply to out of touch to understand.
When its all said and done, will my commitment to my career be something that will last? And how far do I have to go in my career to call it a success?
I envy those people who don’t feel compelled to work in their jobs. Sort of. I know that I have a gifting and a calling to do the work that I do, a calling that I would happily shuck to the side of my life if I knew how to do it without losing an integral part of myself. I hate the constant feeling of guilt I have for completing the work I feel I must do at the expense of my family... And for spending the hours of time I do with my family that require me to place strong boundaries in my life against a work environment that can be all consuming.
Does that make sense?
How can someone be torn so completely between two precious callings? To be a mother... And to be a professional. To impact your children’s lives in a positive manner... Or to be the voice that keeps a student from committing suicide?
To spend your time thanklessly cleaning up Cheerios from the couch cushions... Or to be awarded Staff Member of the Year?
To have the time to see joy and understanding dawn on your child’s face as they achieve a new skill... Or deal with a student who hates you because you hold them accountable to a university standard?
I wish I had an answer. I suspect that many, if not most, women struggle with this, but we aren’t talking about it. I wish we would. It gets lonely sitting here on the fence.
So... Here I am. Contemplative more than funny. Trying to define where achievement hits satisfaction. And sharing it with you – hope you don’t mind!
JJ
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