To be… or not to be

that is the question…. ‘Tis nobler in the mind…

What did Shakespeare know about about juggling a career and a family? Hamlet’s mediation on death and life came to me last night when I was tossing about at 3 am, my usual “get up and pee and then lie there for 45 minutes and stress” part of the night. To be a stay at home mommy  - or not? What is more noble? Is it all in our heads?

When my mom was here, we happened upon a rummage sale that was in the last few hours, so individually marked items turned into “stuff at bag for $5” (AWESOME!) and I picked up the book, “Mommy Wars.” It’s a bunch of essays by women who have faced the same decision I seem to be wrestling with this year – to stay at home with the children or continue in the work place. With appropriate timing, although not intended, I started it the week before I went to my on-campus interview for a tenure track job. And now, of course, I’m in the waiting stage (did they like me? did they really really like me?) and while I’m not sure I have the job or not, we must still talk through options so we are prepared if the offer is put on the table.
I’m torn. As usual. I feel that in many ways, both Stella and I have been given a gift by the circumstances surrounding the first 3 years of her life. I was lucky enough to be a graduate student without a set schedule when she was born, (and of course, the husband that could support said graduate student and baby). Her first experience at any type of “day care” was at 16 months – where she went to a local woman’s house for 4 mornings a week and was picked up at noon. 16 months home with Mommy, save for the occasional babysitter. Since our move to Santa Barbara at 18 months, even with her going into part-time preschool to preserve my sanity 3 mornings a week, she naps at home every day and she gets time with her mommy two full dedicated days a week. Now, I know by some standards, that’s still a lot of time away from home. Some women end up staying with their children until they reach school-age. Some women stay home with their children until they are forced – I mean, required, to go back to work at the staggering time of 6 to 8 weeks. (Was I even lucid at that point?) We are in the age when many women cannot afford the possibility of being home a very long time with their kids. And then there are those of us who dabble in both – who work part-time jobs, who have night gigs, who find a way to have a little bit of mommy time and work time, but not of the 40 hour a week variety.

So that leads me to this year. Bittle will be barely 5 months old if I start teaching the fall. I remember Stella at five months… just starting to sit up, play, enjoy the interaction with people, and most importantly, moving from mewing new baby into a malleable little person. Of whom I would have to hand over to someone else to watch all week long while I worked. Because although I would be teaching a college schedule, which some might see as forgiving and untraditional, teaching 4 different classes a semester, (which is what this job entails) is a hellish teaching load. Especially as a first time professor.

And yet I know I can’t let guilt run my life. Some of the women in the Mommy Wars book keep suggesting the sage, but wellworn advice, if Mommy ain’t happy, then no one else is, so just do what makes you happy. And if that means working full-time AND being a mom, then that’s ok. But of course, after 3 years of this unintentional situation that I have been in up until now, I feel like I’m short-changing my second child by not giving her the same experiences, the same attention as her sister received.
Of course, not that either of them are going to remember any of this. But I will. And that, I suppose, is the difference.
On the other hand, yesterday,  between going on a bear hunt, hiding in the bear cave in the living room, taking the dog for a walk and looking for sneaky places under palm trees, dressing up Bunny, going to the library, going to the garden center and then coming home and planting some flowers, I was furtively checking my work email throughout the day, trying to deflect a blow up at work, even though they know I “technically” work only during afternoon nap times. I want to believe that I can completely give over to my mommyhood and be present when I’m with Stella. that was one of my goals this year. But I can’t.

And here I am, up at the wee hours of the morning typing random missives into a blog just to help my brain calm down so it can sleep. I know that I can’t have guilt run my life. I can’t feel guilty for wanting this job, for wanting to practice what I feel have spent a majority of my life preparing to do, and yet, the desire to be a “good” mom seems to translate itself into being a mom who does not work. How 1950’s am I? What type of feminist do I assume to be? I don’t suppose I’ll come to a conclusion tonight. But those of you who do read the blog (the mighty few!) who have struggled with these questions, I would appreciate some advice. Maybe you haven’t struggled with them? Maybe you’ve intuitively understood that being a mom is all consuming, but that doesn’t mean that having a job means that you are any less of mother. it just means that you have a job. Simple as that. And that even if picking children up from daycare, running around to put food on the table, throwing them into baths and bed seems rushed and hectic, that it’s ok. Because who is judging what is nobler? Do your kids still love you just as much? Do they excel because Mom is also excelling at what she does?

For to be… or not to be… that is the question.

Interesting addendum: This morning, Stella asked me at breakfast out of the blue: "Mommy, are you a teacher?" Well, yes Stella, some days I am. "Are you still my mommy?" Oh yes, I will always be your mommy. Can I be your mommy and a teacher too? "Oh yes." she said. Was she giving me her blessing? I wonder....