I've been thinking about how we have the politics of work and family (or as some are now using, work with family), and then about how it all feels day-to-day. For me, having had eight years between children, and thus eight years inbetween that intense period where I've been home, I do feel some changes. First, I work some, from home mostly, and I have a babysitter. I don't struggle as much with that radical sense of "where did my life go?" Second, at 42 and having done this before, I'm more aware of the pressure to be ambitious, to work, to achieve recognition. I'm a far cry from the up-and-coming college professor I was at 34 when my first child was born. Third, I know that this lasts but a few years, and I let myself enjoy it. I feel less of the pull to meet other people's deadlines, and I really feel very little of those imagined characters who we think are looking over our shoulders and calling us to account for what we've done, not done, and plan to do.
Second time around, I can keep more of the external pressure at bay. And that's a good thing.
The poignancy I can't keep at bay, though, is the Monday Morning lonelies. That's the pit-in-the-stomach that sets in after I've said goodbye to my husband, and hugged my daughter onto the schoolbus, when it's just me on the corner with the baby in the backpack, and I really miss all of them.
I miss our weekends. Yes, I like my weeks, I've learned their rhythms, the hours for work, the hours for school pick-up, the hours for being in the kitchen, preparing meals and sweeping Cheerios off the floor. And I never used to like weekends, honestly. I liked working. I liked structure. I hated all the free time and the pressure to have a good time, dammit, so you can tell everyone about it on Monday! Now, though, I've come to terms with my weekends, no longer succumbing to the impulse to check e-mail (I try not to
and not trying to rack up fun points. It's time, afterall, long expanses, 48 hours, just time, and what I like best is just being with Rob and the girls. And puttering in my backyard. Walking in the neighborhood. Sometimes seeing friends. Yes, I'm reclaiming nerdy mom, easy-going mom. Dare I say it, in the wake of our culture which seems to prefer missives about motherhood that preferably have drugs and drinks in the story: Boring Mom. Normal Mom. Everyday Mom, and you can add your own adjectives right here!
Monday morning lonelies testify to how fun the weekend was. It's a different feeling than the politics and work link that I started this post with, it's more interior, it's about love and sweetness and all the things that are out of place and out of step with life outside our homes. Still, I'm trying to figure out the connection. Will we have to live forever with that social division that puts feelings at home, and tough policies in the public sphere and never the twain shall meet?