Much of my last quarter century has been consumed with the tension between work and family, and that makes me no different that any other working mom. For decades, I resented the pull that my work exerted on my time with my kids, and I was exhausted by the way my family responsibilities ate into time when I really should've been working. All that time, I looked forward to the day when the diapers and daycare and homework and carpooling would be gone, and the tension would abate.
You know what's coming, don't you?
The predictable part: The kids grew up way too fast, and I have no idea where I misplaced the last 26 years. But I knew that would happen; it's a cliché for a reason.
The surprising part? Having more time to devote to my work is not necessarily a good thing. To be sure, it is a relief not to be distracted as much. But there was something about having little people who needed me to come home that kept me grounded, kept my worldview wide, kept me out of my own head. I was exhausted and terrified, but I was keenly in touch with who I was and with what mattered.
Now there are other wonderful things calling to me - my own music, my friends, my grownup kids, my husband, books, theatre - but it's far too easy to tune them out. Their demands aren't nearly as insistent as those two young people who forced me to stay in touch with what's important in life. And so I ignore them. At my peril.
The take-away? If you sit where I did decades ago, take some comfort in knowing that the exhaustion and frustration are small and temporary prices to pay for the gift that is your kids. Meanwhile, on the other side of this divide, I will resist the pull to disappear into my job, and I'll honor the lessons that parenthood taught me.
