By Jennifer Savage
I saw a cartoon in the New Yorker this week that made me laugh. It was a of a woman driver, clearly frazzled, with three kids in car seats behind her. The bumper sticker on her minivan said, “I’d rather be working.”
I have been that mother in the car with two kids in car seats gripping the steering wheel, doing deep breathing exercises just trying to get to somewhere. I get it, I thought. Yes, there are days I’d rather be answering emails, coming up with tag lines for ads, writing a communication plan — the “work” I’ve done for years. But as I stood there reading the cartoon again, I thought, hey, wait a second. If that woman is taking care of three kids who are young enough to still be in car seats, no one is working harder than she is.
It is the New Yorker, after all, who knows, that irony may be the whole point of the cartoon because that magazine is nothing if not ironic. But that cartoon got me thinking.
In April I quit my job of five years doing communications work for a nonprofit organization in Missoula. I love that nonprofit and had explored almost every scheduling option while working there: full-time on-site, half-time from home, quarter time on-site, quarter time from home. I even worked a few years completely from home. It all ebbed a flowed based on where I was with childcare, where I happened to be living and what seemed possible. My boss was amazingly flexible and that’s how I was able to stay so long. I left because it seemed time to try something else.
Now, instead of having one full-time job (being the primary caregiver to my two young children), one half-time job (at the nonprofit) and another half-time (at least) job freelance writing, I take care of my children and I write. It all feels more manageable.
Except on the days when it doesn’t. The days when I answer what seems like 5,000 questions about Spiderman, his abilities, his motives and if he’s a boy or a girl. The days I might pull out my hair if Lucille takes her clothes off one more time before we are headed out the door. The days when I have to remember that I have master’s degree in something that I dearly love and spend what feels like so little time doing. The days when the laundry is stacked to the ceiling and I finally get it folded then someone comes along to dig through the basket to find that one shirt they can’t live without and it all falls into a heap on the floor. The days when all I want to do is lock myself in a room with nothing but New Yorkers and all the books I’ve bought but not read in the past four years and read until my eyes hurt.
These are the days when I hate my full-time job. When I question if my children wouldn’t be better off in full-time care with someone else. On these days I wonder if I’m really cut out for this mothering thing at all.
And of course it’s on these days that I pass Perfect Mom at the grocery store. Her two daughters are in matching Hanna Anderson dresses with freshly combed hair and cute pigtails. She never raises her voice and always seems to want to have fun! She’s even wearing a little skirt and a short brimmed hat. I’m wearing my running shoes, an old pair of shorts and a baggy pink (I’m being serious!) shirt. Eliza has on her basketballin’ clothes complete with baby blue nylon shorts, a red and pink jersey, her Spiderman hat (on backwards!) and her light up Spiderman shoes on the wrong feet. Lucille is wearing a necklace with two bloodshot eyeballs hanging from it. Neither has had her hair combed in days. I’m tired. I’m grumpy and my hair looks like Katie Couric after the bad haircut I got the other day.
I do not look like I want to have fun.
At the grocery store, Perfect Mom waves, I wave – through gritted teeth – and I vow to shower before again heading back out into the world.
The truth of it is I know I am lucky to be in this spot. I get to work from home, to see Lucille’s five outfit changes a days, to talk at length with Eliza about how fast cheetahs run, where jaguars live and how fast Spiderman can climb buildings. I am lucky. And I know I will miss these days when they are a distant memory. But for now, I also know this: taking care of two children is hard work and anyone who says otherwise either has a great prescription for something I don’t or is just not being honest. It does not always bring me joy. It’s isn’t always so much fun. Some days, it isn’t fun at all.
So if I could rewrite the New Yorker cartoon the bumper sticker on the minivan might read “I’d rather be working on my book,” or “I’d rather be working on my on that piece of fiction,” or it might read “I’d rather be doing anything but this” because even though I love my daughters profoundly, it’s honestly how I feel some days.
Jennifer Savage is a writer and mama of Eliza and Lucille. Lately, she's learning to be a city girl. She writes from her home in Missoula, Montana. She is also one of Mamalode's favorite writers and you can fall in love with her too at Jennifer-Savage.com Read more of Jennifer's mamalode articles here.
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Oh I can so relate to this Jennifer! I felt the same way this week with my three kids. I questioned why I hadn’t signed them up in every single camp the entire summer, and searched frantically to find the school schedule to block off the date they go back:)
….and then there is the sibling rivalry……….!!
Thanks so much for being so honest. Why is it so hard for our generation to “justify” staying home with our kids while they are young? And when we do, we are supposed to feel lucky and never complain? I know I put it on myself, but I don’t like people thinking I have it easy. I know its incredibly grueling work, but I think 70% of folks out there don’t get it. I finally feel like I can make this choice now that I have 3 kids and my husband may be taking a job where he will be traveling most of the week…I’m even oscillating on this…perhaps its because I’m not a writer or I won’t be creating goods to sell on my Etsy store. I’ll “just” be a mom without any other identity, and I know large portions of many days will feel miserable. However, I do know I feel like I am going crazy, it is flying by too fast, I don’t feel like I am being a great mom, and I’m not enjoying the juggling act….so something has to change.
Thanks for an honest assessment of motherhood! With my 3 kids (5 & under), I often feel the way you do. When my aunts say “oh, isn’t it great? I wish I could go back to those days with my kids!”, I think “You really want to go back to days when you possibly forget to brush your teeth & people fight over a grungy toy that no one really wanted in the first place?” I wonder if I’m the only one struggling to enjoy every moment. Glad to know I’m not…
Geez, that’s unbleievblae. Kudos and such.
wow, savage. I appreciate your honesty and trust me, I’m right there with you! Its hard to admit all the time that it is overwhelming and infuriating at moments when raising two toddlers (or anything else for that matter that you are completely responsible for). We were laughing on our river trip because you would witness parents caring their screaming children sideways at times…and that that is when you know a parent has totally lost their patience! But we’ve all been there and will be there at some point. And I’m really glad to know I’m not alone in this!
Amen, sister. Thanks for being honest. It is refreshing and quite helpful in our SuperMom culture.
[...] It is the New Yorker, after all, who knows, that irony may be the whole point of the cartoon because that magazine is nothing if not ironic. But that cartoon got me thinking. Read More » [...]