Fried In A Pan...

There was a time I wanted children. Kind of. In a remote, sort of, well of course you have children kind of way. I was younger. Idealistic. And it seemed soooooooo far in the future. I would have conversations with other women and start sentences with, "When I have children..." One of those sentences would always end in "I will have a nanny so I can work."

I couldn't imagine not working. To me it equaled being able to hold onto my own identity. I was adamant that if I had children, I would continue to work, if for no other reason than for my own self-esteem. And I always said that before I had children, there was certain level in my career that I wanted to attain.

After a few years of working, in my chosen industry, I attained it (my goals were not ridiculously lofty, I admit) but I still was not ready for children and so life continued, and continued, and continued... until I was just about to hit 40 and we both realized that that vague notion of "hmmm... someday when we have children..." better be today or it wouldn't be at all.

And, to be honest, even at the beginning of the trying, I was still a little on the fence. I would think, "oh, if only I could wait a couple more years, that would be the perfect time for children." But after trying and failing many, many times, I came to the realization that I really, really wanted a child. I knew it. For real. For the first time in my life.

And as you know, of course, we were blessed with Dashell... and a mortgage... and bills... and working, or not, was not a decision, it was a fact. I work. I work so I can pay bills. I work so I can afford my son... and I work because I really, really like it. I do. I admit it. I love what I do. I'm lucky.

Unfortunately, what I do requires a ridiculous amount of time, which was fine when I didn't have a child. My husband is in the same industry and consequently is a fountain of understanding. But now I have a husband, a child, a career and... a nanny.

We LOVE her. And could not imagine life without her. But sometimes I wonder (almost in a yearning way) what it would be like to just be a mom.

The last few months have been nuts at work (and at home, because many days I work at home late into the night). Crazy, crazy hours. It's been pretty non-stop, even through the weekends. I haven't seen Dash that much... I miss him. I really miss him.

This week has been particularly difficult. I've only seen him for, maybe, 30 minutes each morning (during the hand off to our nanny). Nothing at night.

Thank goodness, for our nanny. I don't give his well-being, or happiness, a second thought. I know he's in the safest (and fun-est) of hands. But it's hard. I just don't know how daddy's do it, or working mom's who travel a lot, or who have hours like mine (or who just have to leave their children regularly for any reason).

I don't know if I could, would, ever want to give up my job. With my line of work, it's all or nothing. Unfortunately, there's no part-time. But I think that would be perfect. In my dream world.. I would work part-time. Just writing those words is like a lovely lyric to beautiful song. Some people daydream of running through a beautiful meadow (or is that just what the panty-liner people want us to believe women dream about?), I dream of part time work.

I miss my son.This morning he had a couple of temper tantrums when I couldn't hold him as I was getting ready to run out the door (yet again.) I believe he misses me too. Selfishly, I hope he does. Is that wrong?

Do (did) you work? How do you deal with all time you don't (didn't) see your children?

Do you physically hurt when you can't see them? ... I do.


p.s. Mom and Dad, thank you. (you know why.)