“…I rushed home from the office and flew through the door. As usual, I was in a panic about relieving our nanny on time. But I was late anyway. This was almost five years ago, and my commute from that job was always complicated by reliance on the trains and random late-day meetings when it looked better to be there in person.
Now, not everyone that I worked with was there in person; many were remote. But if the meeting involved Boston-based people, my then boss wanted me to show my face. And I liked getting to know people. But if the meeting started late, as they often did, they would end late, too. And it felt sticky leaving a meeting early to pickup my kids, since I was usually the only one who needed to do so.
Although most of my colleagues were parents, they were overwhelmingly men, whose partners handled pickup and empty nesters, free from managing their days around childcare and school schedules. They also had more tenure in the company than I did. In hindsight, I did some ridiculous things to be there in person even when it didn’t make sense. Like trying to fit two or three round-trip commutes into a single day, because I needed to be “seen” at the office. Even if I wanted to just do a late-day meeting remotely, I would need to leave the office when there was a meeting-free window to commute home. But this wasn’t often possible so I’d join calls from the noisy and crowded trains.
That day, I almost jogged that last block and was thrilled when I finally made it home. I gave quick hugs to the kids who were four and eight at the time, and started to cook. I’ve internalized certain deadlines, like when dinner happens, to stay on schedule with bedtime. Which, of course, influences how well things go that evening and the next morning. While I was waiting for the chicken to brown, I wanted to see if anything time sensitive came up in that last meeting. As I scanned the flurry of work emails on my phone, I could hear my kids arguing about something in my son’s bedroom.
I couldn’t see them from the kitchen, but I could hear it escalating. And since my husband wasn’t home, I stepped out of the kitchen to figure out what was going on. “Mom, she’ trying to take my Legos,” my son said angrily. I saw the Lego clutched tightly in my daughter’s hand. She responded, matter-of-factly for a four-year old, “this one is mine.” I held her hand and said, “Honey, you have so many Legos. Why take your brother’s? Please come into the kitchen, where I can . . .”
I was already irritated by my children fussing and suddenly, the fire alarm went off. Very, very loudly. Although I thought I lowered the temperature for the chicken, I had left it on high heat so it started to burn. I forgot that I was cooking because I was already thinking about five other things. There was that email check, worrying about remembering to pay my nanny extra for that day since I was late. I was also mentally rehashing the meeting. When the kids started arguing, that interruption managed to take the part of my brain that was working on dinner, offline.
My neighbors started texting and calling shortly after. So, I had to turn off the stove and open several windows to clear the smoke. As I frantically wished for the alarm—which, by then triggered all of the building alarms to go off—to stop, I was lucky that our downstairs neighbor came up to help. But the whole thing was noisy, embarrassing, and, of course, time-consuming.”
This story is an excerpt from my new book, Repair with Self-Care: Your Guide to the Mom’s Hierarchy of Needs®. In the book I explain the threats to our clarity, presence and sanity are constant. And it’s much more than just the mental load or even understanding it, that’s required to emerge whole.
It’s not fun to pretend so, it’s not surprising that mothers are leaving the workforce again in droves. The fragile momentum for more flexible work, and better care benefits broke under the weight of a bad economy and anti-diversity, equity and inclusion sentiment. Let’s face it, as acceptance and support for caregiving and womanhood decline, mothers in every industry fret. Years of training and pride that comes with their expertise, dissolves into emotional warfare. Sometimes with their bosses and colleagues, and more often with their partners as they try to regain control of their time at work and at home.
Becoming unhinged by guilt, fatigue and schedule-Jenga, leads to feeling displaced from ourselves. As we celebrate yet another Labor Day, we need to acknowledge that traditional work has become rigged for presence. Employers are set up to recognize and reward long hours and responsiveness. Traits that conflict with hands-on parenting, self-care and healthy habits like sleep, movement, stress management, and rest. Despite how many studies validate breaks as the precursor to breakthroughs.
Today, tomorrow, or next year, the workplace will still be fraught for most mothers. So, seize your time and energy now. Look for every lever you can pull to reduce your workload and find beauty in your days. Build and evolve supportive systems and relationships, in service to your joy. Make your messy, beautiful and full life, feel on the inside as great as it looks from the outside.
Order Repair with Self-Care: Your Guide to the Mom’s Hierarchy of Needs today! And get invited to the virtual launch publication day party to celebrate on Wednesday, September 3rd!
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