The Working Mom's Blues

We were having a good run.  Since Christmas there hadn't been so much as a runny nose in our house.  No trips to the doctor or the pharmacy were taken.  All three of us were feeling good. Then last week, as I was packing up after a long day at work, a number popped up on my caller ID.

Day Care.

Crap.

"Hi Ms. P-, this is Ms So-and-so from Maxwell's daycare. He's running 102.5 underarm and we need you to come pick him up."

That was last Tuesday and he hasn't been back to day care since.

This fever issue was generally mild.  Between working strange hours, switching shifts and one round at the sick room at work (where Max will never go back too, but that's another story), Brett and I actually managed to work a full week.  By Friday he was good as new and we enjoyed a nice weekend as a family.

Since I work part time, I was off on Monday.  Max was acting totally fine and I was accomplishing some serious house cleaning.  At 3PM, things changed. First there was the diaper which I heard from across the room. An hour later I was cleaning vomit from the front of my shirt. And I continued to clean vomit as the poor child counldn't keep even the smallest amounts of liquid down.

I felt terrible for my son. He was (and still is) absolutely miserable. However, I also panicked.  How can I call in sick AGAIN when I had to do the same thing last week?  I don't have family in town.  Most of my friends work full time and if they don't, they also have kids and don't want to run the risk of catching Max's bug. Brett and I have no choice but to creatively rearrange our schedules so we can watch Max yet make important meetings and deadlines.

I'm lucky- my boss is fabulous (and no, she doesn't read this! I'm not sucking up!).  She has children and has been in my shoes.  She's told me time and time again not to feel guilty about taking care of my sick kid. My schedule is flexbile and I can work whenever I can. Still, as her assistant, I know she depends on me and I hate having to call in so frequently, espeically when it's two weeks in a row. My husband too works for a family friendly company, but they are in critical mode right now and it's a lot harder to get away. Plus, his job is our primary income, so he can't take as many risks.

So now, as I sit here, waiting for my husband to be done with his half of the day so I can run to work and play catch up, I wonder how much of this is worth it?  At what point does the lost vacation, lost money (day care still gets paid even if the kid doesn't show up) and stress from being off start to trump the little bit of extra income I bring home?

At what point do I step away from the job I love, at a company I love, with co-workers that I love because of guilt?  Guilt that I need someone else to take care of my kid when sick.  Guilt that I can't do my job to the best of my ability.  Guilt that I'm not Supermom, SuperEmployee and SuperWife.  Guilt that I am working because I want to and not because, financially, I have too.

There's no easy answer.  Some people love being a stay at home parent and swear it is the only life for them.  Others claim they are a better parent because they work and cherish the time they do have at home.  I have my foot in both worlds and still can't manage to make it work.

This is an issue that requires more discerment and I'm not quite ready to make a decison.

So for now, I just sit an sing the Working Mom's Blues.

PS.  Sorry for the bloggy absence, but I'm back!  Miss me?

The First Lesson of Motherhood: Trust Your Gut

Something wasn't right.  I hadn't been a parent for more than 48 hours but as I held my screaming son, I knew in my gut something was wrong.

"He's just a baby. Babies scream"

"He's latching fine. He'll get what he needs".

"Don't give him a bottle, it will doom your nursing relationship forever."

I'm sure those people were right.  They were long time parents, professionals with degrees and people who had been in my shoes before.  What did I know? I listened to them while ignoring that voice in my head that kept repeating "This is not working".

The voice got louder a few hours later when my neighbor, a retired RN, stopped by to meet Max. On her first glance she stated "He's looking a little yellow.  Keep an eye on that".

The night came.  Max continued to latch, hang out there for a few minutes, pull off and start screaming again.  All night long he screamed and screamed.  We rocked, bounced, shushed, and swaddled.  We called my mother in law at 1AM to help.  I couldn't do much more than cry, feeling like I was failing him.

The next morning was his 3 day pediatrician visit. While we were getting ready, I suggested taking Max's temperature. He felt warm but I wasn't sure what was warm for a newborn. He had a mild fever. I actually felt some relief.  At least I knew that was part of the problem. I didn't know a low fever in a newborn meant an automatic hospital admission until we told the nurse at the pedi's office. I sat in shock as she wrote up orders and gave us directions on how to get to the pediatric unit.

I remained in shock at the hospital as they repeatedly poked my son, trying to find a vein for an antibiotic IV. Multiple veins were blown. Finally they gave him Pedialyte which he rapidly drank and then promptly fell asleep for the first time in hours. I started to put the pieces together.

We settled in our room and I met the lactation consultant.  I tried pumping for the first time. Not a drop.  I was devastated but I was also relieved. Things started to fall into place. My milk hadn't come in.  Max wasn't even getting colostrum to sustain him.  He was dehydrated, causing the jaundice, fever and constant screaming.  I finally had the answers needed to make him better. A rush of relief swept over me.

It was at that point, 72 hours into parenthood I realized the "experts" were full of crud. Their degrees and experience couldn't replace a mothers intuition.  The voice in the back of my head screamed "I told you so!".  It was right.  Since then, when it comes to Max, I always listen.

Antibiotics and Eggnog

‘Twas two weeks before Christmas and all through the house
All the creatures were stirring and starting to grouse
Tissues were used and then flung through the air
In hopes of hitting the wastebasket way over there

The baby was screaming, standing up in his bed
While his ears pounded, hurting his head
And Mom’s nose kept running while her fever ran high
And Dad could only whisper, his voice went goodbye

The baby continued to make horrible clatter
So Mom took him to the doctor to see what’s the matter
Both ears were infected, four teeth coming in
Plus an infection for the kiddo, under the skin

And Mom with her nose now running green
Went to see her doctor who was very mean
She had a large sinus infection, thanks to the baby
Antibiotics might help but it’s only a maybe

Now Sudafed, Now Mucinex, Now Vitamin C
Now Optic Drops and Zithromax and a large mug of tea
Now Orajel, Now Ibuprofen and an antibiotic lotion
Hopefully all of these things will create the magic potion

Now our little trio of sickies rests by the glow of the tree
In hopes that soon a bill of clean health will we see
Til then we will rest and infections we will fight
Healthy Christmas to all and to all a good night!

When Mommy Needs a Mommy

On Friday when Max was barfing, dinner was burning, the kitchen was a mess and Brett was at school I thought to myself- “I would love a day where I could lay in bed”.
The Fates listened and granted my request.

Unfortunately, The Fates are a bunch of assholes.

I spent all of Sunday in bed but it’s wasn’t fun or relaxing. It was fucking miserable.  I got the stomach flu.

I don’t have to tell you how much it sucked.  Besides the normal ugly stomach related issues I was hit with full on flu-like symptoms as well.  Chills, headache, body aches, high fever, ect.  If someone offered me a million dollars but said I had to walk to the mailbox to get it, I probably would have told them “No Thanks”. Rolling over in bed was a chore.

Brett was wonderful both taking care of Max and doing his best to make me comfortable (which was pretty much an impossible task).  He kept me alive with large amounts of Fruit Punch Gatorade and Tylenol and managed to keep Max pretty happy too, even though his upper tooth was erupting.

We had grand plans for my Monday recovery.  Brett would bring Max to day care and I would spend the day recouping so I could go back to my SuperMom (Ha!) self. Those plans went to Hell around 8PM when Brett crawled upstairs, clutching his stomach moaning “I think I got what you have…”. 

At that point I had mentally put our house up on the market and wondered which neighborhoods in Akron or Chicago that might have a good school system.  We couldn’t call our friends to help out since they all work.  Our retired neighbor is always willing to help but she was out of town.  What we needed were family members we could beg for help without feeling guilty or imposing. We needed people who were required by blood to help.

I thought seven years ago that by moving to Savannah, 800 miles away from home was proof that I was growing up.  It showed that I was an adult and that I could make it on my own. I was an independant woman.

But now that I have my own family I realized one thing....

Screw independence.  I need my Mommy.

Sadly the nearest mommy was a plane ride away so we made due.  Max spent most of the day in baby jail his pack-n-play or exersaucer.  He didn't enjoy it all that much but we all survived though my diet hasn't advanced beyond saltines.

Still, the whole experience made me realize that maybe it's time to seriously consider moving a little closer to family.

Not close enough that they can show up without calling mind you but close enough that they don't need an airplane to show up for an emergency.

Until then, I ask you -How do you stay healthy when your kids are constantly bringing home germs from the monsters kids at school or day care?