*With apologies to Allison Pearson, but NOT the Hollywood version, which looks to be atrocious.
As a working mother, (doing a PhD on the side), I occasionally get that, "I don't know how you do it!" comment and I still haven't figured out how to handle it. I can't help feeling a little patronized, which puts me on guard, and I don't know what to say. Acknowledge that it's hard but that we get by somehow, and I sound arrogant, downplay it and I come off as insincere. I usually try some flip answer, like, "I don't know that I do most of the time!" which is also as close to the truth as I can articulate. The truth is, I just barely hold it all together in most instances, and then, every couple of months or so (and it is no coincidence that that timeline coincides with the academic quarter system mentioned last week), it all falls apart, and my life disintegrates spectacularly. Friday morning was such a morning.
It had already been a crazy week - finals, which included several late nights, on top of a regular workload for me, and my dear husband was busy with setting exams and grading for his classes, with lots of early meetings, and a day out of town. After all that, I was really stressed about Friday, since I was doing a presentation to our students, on behalf of our Associate Dean of Student Affairs, immediately followed by my first PhD committee meeting. The presentation was ready, but I was trying to fit about an hour's worth of information into 45 minutes, and I had to be in the auditorium at 8:30 am sharp. And that meant, to factor in rush-hour traffic, I had to leave as soon as the kids got on the school bus, or I would be late. Really, though, the real problem was that I was uptight about my committee meeting, unsure of what to expect, and anxious about what new curve balls would be thrown my way. So, of course, on some level, my poor kids picked up on my tension, and those are always the times that they start to act up the most.
To be fair, for the most part, my 11 year old has started to figure out that if Mum or Dad are stressed, and especially if we both are, then those are the times to hunker down and get things done as co-operatively as possible, although he had had an unexplained meltdown with the babysitter the previous day, which I had had to smooth over. Our 7 year old, though, seems to have a knack for picking up on the tension, and then escalating it. It's almost as if on some level he realizes that he is not the center of attention, and so feels the need to ratchet things up so that he is.
Yesterday, it all started with the weather, which was lovely and mild, and promising to improve into a nice, sunny, Spring day. So the 11 year old decided to wear shorts. So, of course, the 7 year old wanted to wear shorts. The problem being, that since the weather has been decidedly wintry until a few days ago, their idiot mother had not excavated the shorts from the depths of the closet recently. The older one figured it out, but the younger one could only find a pair of shorts that were his brother's cast-offs, and so were too big. His Dad suggested a belt, which was derided as an intolerable suggestion, so he was forced to wear a perfectly serviceable pair of jeans, which caused heartrending wails and gnashing of teeth. I started to do the math that the time it would likely take to placate him was considerably longer than we had until the bus arrived, which meant driving him to school, which would make me late. And that was one of those watershed moments when all the juggling balls of my life come crashing down, and I turned into evil bitch mother. Little one was rude to me, I yelled back, I tried to force socks onto his feet, he kicked me, and it all deteriorated from there.
Fortunately I am blessed to have a spouse who, while also extremely busy and also prone to stress-induced outbursts with the kids, seems to be able to tag-team with me, and just knows when I need him to step up the most. He sent the older one out to the bus stop, told me to leave, and promised he would deal with the little one and get him to school. So, of course, it all worked out. To an outside observer, it may even have appeared to be another day when the Allen family managed to pull it together and get done what needed to be done. And for that, I suppose, I am lucky to have such a wonderful partner. The truth is, though, I drove into work in mental and emotional turmoil, and survived my presentation, my meeting, and the rest of the day in a state of bewilderment and stress. By the time I got home, I was exhausted, and drank two glasses of wine faster than I should have. Yes, we pulled it together, but those are the days when I worry about what it is doing to the state of our mental health, and also about how little it would take for it all to fall apart. Little one had another two temper tantrums over the next 24 hours, which has left us all drained and sad. We don't have any family to fall back on, any help we have, we have to pay (and, sometimes, cajole and beg), and there are days when it is not so obvious whose deadline or meeting takes precedence, and my darling husband and I start to turn on each other.
After days like that, it seems that the question is not HOW I do it, but WHY? (The same question, incidentally, that Allison Pearson's protagonist ends up asking). Why do I put myself and my family through all of this, when, unlike many other dual income households, we are lucky enough to be able to afford to survive on my husband's income? Most, privileged, middle class mothers are delighted to be able to at stay home, and undoubtedly are much more available to their children, and so, are arguably better mothers. I worry that I am disadvantaging my kids, and creating stress and tension for my whole family. But I love my work. It provides me with a lot of personal fulfillment, and I believe that I am contributing to the world in a meaningful way. And isn't that a good model for my kids? I also doubt that many men ever stop and worry about whether their choice of careers are causing stress and tension in their households. I accept that those men are socialized to believe that this is because they need to be the primary breadwinner, but I believe that many of them would choose to work even if they didn't need to, or if their wives earned more than them. I say that not to imply that men should want to be stay-at-home parents more, but because I think it is more socially acceptable for them to actually enjoy their work, and define themselves by more than just their parental status.
Maybe that is why that opening comment makes me so uneasy, because I don't really believe that I am being complimented. At least some of the time, the comment is really a coded criticism for my choice to be a working mother, when we don't need me to work for financial reasons. Or, at least, I hear it that way. And, unfortunately, unlike Pearson's protagonist in her book, and despite wrestling with this, I still believe that I am entitled to forge my own career path, and I have not come to the conclusion that I should give it all up and become a housewife. I did, for a short time, quit my veterinary practice and stayed at home when our youngest had some health problems as a baby, and I am glad that I spent that time with him, and with our oldest for that year before he started school. But, as my husband would attest, I was a little insane that year, and missed working a great deal. I have great respect for stay-at-home mothers and the work that they do, but I am just not cut out for that lifestyle, and I don't want to model sacrificing who I am to my kids. Finally, though, I will admit to being a little resentful that I have to go through that whole justification process with myself every time we have a meltdown day. No one else is making me feel those feelings of guilt, or making me justify my decisions other than the voices in my head. Certainly not my husband, who is incredibly supportive and encouraging about my career and my studies. But society has indoctrinated me well, and I don't know how to make those voices stop - maybe drugs? Now there is a niche for the pharmaceutical industry...
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