Work life balance struggles

Lately I've really been struggling to determine what it is I want out of my career. I love parts of my job, but I don't know that there's much of a career ahead of me if I continue on this path. There is tremendous change happening in my department and with great change comes great oppotunity. But I feel like I've been immobilized. I can't move forward because of my impending maternity leave. I'm going out in 3 months and it's become an obstacle for me. I can't see past it. I know that I'll be out for 12 weeks, but have no idea what I'm coming back to.
I think any working mom would be concerned about her role and what she was coming back to. In some cases it might be clearer than others. Say if you’re a teacher, you know you’re coming back to a classroom full of kids. In my case, there’s more change in my department than the outfits I try on before going out with my friends. There have been so many signs that I’m not being considered for roles because I’m pregnant. Not because I’m not capable. And that’s really starting to get to me. I can’t prove any of it, so a discrimination case is out of consideration. Here are some examples and you can judge if I’m just “reading too much” into things.

1. When I approached my boss about the possibility of working part time when I first come back, just until I get used to managing a household with two kids, he responded quickly that he’d have to find other work for me. The conversation quickly shifted to hesitancy about the possibility because he wants someone to be there for him full time. I get it, but finding someone to start doing my role is not an option for me. So I feel like my hands are tied, I’m either all in, or part time doing a new job. And I don’t know that I’ll be happy doing less than I do now.
2. On a call that I was not participating in, my boss made some insensitive comment about me and the frequency of my pregnancies. A colleague told me about it, and at first I laughed because it is funny that I’m pregnant and going on leave during the same time of year that I’ve been out before. Let me point out that it’s to everyone’s benefit that I’m going out when I am. I shortened my leave the first time around to be back in time to manage a project. This time around I’m going to be around to manage every project I play a role in with the exception of executing one minor project. So how is it appropriate to A) talk about me when I’m not on a call and B) make jocular remarks about my life plans? After mulling it over I’m really offended that he would even go there. 
3.  Not too long ago my boss started including me again. (I think I’ve written about how disconnected I felt from the team after my most recent successful conference production.) Well, I just found out today that he gave the same project to a colleague of mine. It was developing a tracking method from the base and he didn’t tell me he gave it to her too. Apparently this is a standard operating procedure in a former job of his. I think it’s crap. It’s a waste of my time and hers. What would make sense is to give it to her to begin with because she can run with it while I’m gone.

Other examples come every day but I just don’t have time to record it all. Perhaps I’m just being emotional from hormones? But I have to admit that I’ve got tears in my eyes and it’s not from the wasabi I had with my California role. I work really hard, and I value the work that I get to do. I’ve struggled for 18 months to balance my home life with my work life. Without exception being a mom is my favorite job, but I’ve spent 18 months working really hard at both jobs. I feel like if I lose out on a promotion or a good position, than my constant battle to balance both will have been for not. I know I put undue pressure on myself, and I’m just not someone who can just take home a paycheck and be happy. I’ve been working full time for at least 10 years. In every position I’ve grown and taken on new challenges. It’s why I work hard, although the money isn’t bad. I just question if I’ll be happy if I give up this fight to succeed.

Song I'm enjoying right now: Dog Days Are Over  . . . Florence and the Machine

My other half

Since it’s my blog, I make no apologies for focusing on my adventures or learnings in every post. But I think it would be good to switch things up for a bit. It’s time to recognize the sacrifices my husband makes on a daily basis to provide for his family.

What I do apologize for is always thinking he’s got it easier. Truthfully it shouldn’t be a comparison, who works harder or who gives up more. Joe and I are a team and it’s important to demonstrate how much you appreciate your partner. So Joe, this one is for you.

My husband starts his day checking his work email on his iPhone. After dropping Izzy off at day care he spends nearly 90 minutes in my tiny Mazda 3 stuck in two lanes of endless traffic. (I get to drive his gas-guzzling jeep because I commute 2 minutes to the train station.) This super bright individual then spends his day managing exhausted employees and arguing with an anything but acquiescent client over regulations and fees. Most days he can grab lunch at his desk for a few minutes, but there are days where he notices his uneaten salad still sitting on the corner of his desk at 4pm. When the client is checking out around 5pm, he knows he has another hour or so before he can start the slog through another 90 minutes of traffic. Oh and the entertainment for that ride home? It typically consists of a unneccessarily long conversation with his boss, whom he just left, to about work papers that need to be cleaned up for the morning.

There are many nights where he calls me long after the time he should have left the office. On the brink of exhaustion he tells me he isn’t going to make it home in time to kiss Izzy goodnight. I used to take his flat tone, devoid of energy, to mean he was focused on work and didn’t much care. Now I realize that he’s doing whatever he can to muscle through and not let the tears well up. It’s not OK for guys to cry. The days he does make it home in time to see our daughter play or laugh or smile at him are really special. I can see the glow in his gorgeous smile that tells me he's truly happy. Usually at that point I've gotten to spend two hours with Izzy which isn't enough for me. What I take for granted is that he doesn't even have those special moments. He doesn't get to wrap his arms around her and give her a big squeeze after a long day away from her. He misses watching her fling spinach leaves at Willow with an uproar of laughter. He doesn't get to see how she closes the back door with her bum because she's got the dog's food dish in her hands. I'm sure it breaks his heart, and I feel bad for pointing out that he's missing those things. But he pushes through day after day without complaint.

When I hear the garage door creaking open and see the taillights from compact car I know Joe’s workday isn’t over. He plods through the door, laptop in tow, only to have a quick bite to eat before opening up the computer and settling in for a few more hours of catch up work. Again, he moves seamlessly from work to dinner to more work without complaint. I could have made a terrible dinner, or subject him to questionable leftovers and contently gobbles it down. We have a few moments of conversation, but we usually don’t catch up until the weekend. Often conversations in our home will start with, “You didn’t tell me that.” Or, “I didn’t know about this.” No one is to blame; we just don’t have time to tell each other everything we have going on. And we also don’t have the brain power to remember everything we need to tell each other.

I don’t envy Joe. He makes HUGE sacrifices to be able to provide for us, and I don’t recognize it often enough. There’s more to it than sacrifices alone. Joe is always willing to listen to me vent. He’s understanding of my challenges and tries to pitch in with housework when he is home. And there is one thing I always feel, loved. I can't tell you how amazing I feel knowing that I get to be married to Joe. It takes more than a worker bee and a primary care giver to make a family work. I’m really proud of my partner and I really respect him for all that he does.

Cutting out dance and running, for now

At nearly 25 weeks pregnant I’m finding it a little challenging to work out. For the first trimester I was told no activity. When I hit the second trimester, with a very tiny bump, I was given the green light for exercise. Now that I’m almost in the third trimester I spoke to my Dr. about my preferred activities. He admitted that he was conservative when it came to what activities pregnant women should participate in.
His first preference was that I don’t build up to a goal. If I had been running this whole time then keeping up the usual would have been acceptable. To me that means that I shouldn’t work on increasing speed or distance, but it’s ok to throw in a few jogging stints while I’m walking Willow and Dakota. He did have concerns about how jarring running is. I remember running when I was pregnant with Izzy and there came a point where I felt like my belly was bouncing along. Not comfortable, so I stopped.
The next activity I prefer, that he doesn’t is dance. At first he dismissed it, “what like aerobics?” I had to explain that this wasn’t granny’s dance class. This was a contemporary class with leaps and turns. He vigorously shook his head disapprovingly. His main concern was that I would fall. Not that the action was too rigorous. Carrying around an extra 16 lbs pretty much located in one area makes me totally uneven and at risk for falling. (By the way, the total weight gain of 16 lbs is why I was stressing about exercise to begin with.)
For now I will settle for walking with Willow and Izzy. If this pregnancy has started out differently I wouldn’t have stopped running. But since my number one concern is the healthy growth of baby #2, I will gladly forgo the rigorous activity and look forward to resuming them in the fall.

Trying not to be neurotic

Synonyms for neurotic include: anxious, fearful, fixated, irrational, hung-up and obsessed. Most of the words describe me pretty well when it comes to raising Izzy. Admitting you have a problem is the first step right? Well, here's where I explain why being anxious about her influences, fixated on her diet and obsessed with the childcare she receives may not be all that bad.
I find it APPAULING that there is still such a discrepancy in gender roles in children's television. In my college media course we were asked to survey television shows and produce a paper theorizing commonalities in mass media. I watched 15 different children’s shows, and many episodes of each, and there were two themes that were shockingly apparent. 1) Male characters were almost always the lead character and possessed unmatched intelligence while their female cohorts were “along for the ride.” 2) When the show was an all female cast they donned skimpy outfits that leads only to objectification of women. Since then it’s been in the back of my mind that when I have children not only would I limit the amount of TV they watch, but also the types of shows they watch, the books they read and the toys they play with. Now that I have a little girl I’m more fearful that these negative influences will undermine her self-esteem and passion. I know I can’t protect her from every influence out there, hell I’m already switching radio stations because it’s acceptable to say ass in a song. But what I’m unsure of is how far should I take my concerns? My mother in law bought Izzy a princess coloring book for Easter. There’s a bug-eyed beauty page after page. I’ve only once voiced my concern that these characters don’t wear enough clothing. I haven’t given her my spiel about the women looking like they work as escorts or being super dependent on men to save them. So what do I do?
Next, and pretty high on my “makes me sound like a loon” list is the food we all consume. Forget the processed foods and crap that can sit on your shelf for 30 years, survive nuclear war, and still be consumable. I don’t touch it and neither will Izzy. It’s the seemingly less harmful things that she can imbibe on a day to day basis. First up, that delicious white stuff that is used to make the yummiest ice cold treat out there, milk. Or as Izzy calls it kkkk. I choose to give Izzy organic milk. It’s really important to me that there are no hormones or antibiotics in something that makes up the majority of her liquid intake. The woman who runs the daycare thinks I’m batty. My response? If it were such a crazy idea, why is it readily available in the grocery store? And why are so many articles now proclaiming the evils of antibiotics and hormones in our food? Next up, consider juice. Harmless right? Why should I give her sugar flavored water that lacks nutrients? It’s a totally different story if the juice is actually from fruit, and doesn’t have additives. But even then, she should get the real thing first. Every time I see “FJ” on her daycare report I cringe. Even after I asked them not to give my daughter fruit juice they still do. “But she likes it.” Of course she does, sugar is like crack to an 18 month old! So I remain ever vigilant about giving Izzy non-contaminated drinks. I could write a novel about food, so perhaps I’ll save that for a future post.
And the last thing I mentioned being obsessed with is Izzy’s care. (Warning, I’m keeping it to my top three because I don’t want to lose my readers. Trust me, I’m neurotic about plenty of things.) I don’t think it’s uncommon for a parent to think about their child during the work day. I think plenty of parents wonder if their child is getting the best care, or is being treated fairly all the day long. What could be out of the ordinary is that there are days were it pervades my every thought, every moment of the day. Once she’s safely dropped off I worry about her crying, and is her care taker responding sympathetically or just “toughening her up” by abrasively switching gears. Does her care taker knit-pick her every move shaking her self-esteem and confidence? Or does her care taker let her stomp around oblivious to destruction or danger that my little baby can get into? Is the care taker at all aware of child development stages and how important our reactions are to them? I probably ask myself more questions about what people are doing with my child all day long than an interrogator querying a criminal. Sure, part of it is guilt driven. I want to be with her and think she would be better off with her mom all day. But the other part of it is that I don’t know what she’s learning or experiencing at this age. She can’t tell me what’s happening. There are plenty of secondary concerns like is she bonding with them better than she bonds with me? But what it all comes down to is I have learned to keep my mind very busy with work, and put faith in God that everything is turning out the way it should. Sure Sunday night and Monday morning have turned into a habitual tear fest, but at least I’m productive during the day.
So perhaps the fears I’ve mentioned, coupled with the ones I haven’t, make me neurotic. Or do they just make me a parent? My OBGYN told me that I’ll have to face this fear, and ones just like it from here on out. He has three children so he speaks from experience when he says having faith in God is the only way to ease the anxiety and fearfulness.

Eek! A Tick!

One of my favorite times with Izzy is when she just wakes up from a restful night. She quietly plays with her toys until one of us goes in to pick her up. This morning was not as much fun. She was in a delightful mood and had picked up her comb. I sat down with her and started to do her hair when I saw it. A black speck with legs on the back of my baby's head. I instantly identified it as a tick and yelled for Joe to help remove the nasty little crawly who had embedded itself into my daughters head. I knew it would take two of us and he would be much calmer about it.
After a game of distract Izzy with toys she isn't allowed to play with and some quick tweezer action from Joe, the tick was safely removed from Izzy's sweet little head.
We finished the morning according to our normal routines and Izzy was off to daycare. Here's what I've learned from our tick scare:

• You have to remove the whole tick. I remembered hearing that before, but without Joe's quick and precise hands, we may not have fared so well.
• If you save the tick, some towns will test them for lyme disease. (This mean little POS is sitting in a bottle on the window sill in my kitchen. I HOPE IT FRIES in the sun.)
• Smaller ticks are the ones more likely to carry lyme. This one isn't too small, but I don't want to take any chances.
• For the next 30 days we have to watch out for: a rash anywhere on her body, not just the site of the tick bite, fever/body aches.
• Clean the site of the bite and keep it clean.
• Some research shows that a tick needs to be embedded/gorging on blood for 24 hours before Lyme Disease is transferred.
• The state of CT doesn't allow daycares (even small family centers like the one Izzy goes to) to spray their yards with pesticides that could protect from ticks. So I have to spray my kid with bug spray instead. Makes a lot of sense. You can't use one chemical but you can use another? This is a whole other story. I know I have dogs and the tick could very well have traveled in on them. Or the tick could have fell on Izzy from a tree while we were outside. But we just got a notification from daycare saying she was no longer allowed to spray her yard for ticks and we should be very diligent about checking at home.

Needless to say I'm ticked that this nasty little bug bit my daughter, but I do find a little comfort knowing that the tick seems to be bigger than a deer tick and it wasn't there for very long. Just another lesson in parethood. I'll be checking Izzy from head to toe from now on.