Bad Mommy Blues

Yesterday at 3:15, I got a call at work from H's school, letting me know he had a fever of 101.5, was pretty flushed, and I should pick him up. Of course, I replied! I'll be there as soon as I can.

Yesterday at 4:45 (my normal pick-up time), I walked into H's classroom.

Why on earth would it take me 1.5 hours to get to my poor, sick boy? What kind of mother does that?

Public transportation, that's why. And me, that's who. Hence, the Bad Mommy sticker I feel like I have plastered on my forehead right now.

I work in the city, H's school is in the burbs. And this city's public transportation system is in the crapper. Trains are infrequent, often late, and enjoy breaking down on periously high bridges for no apparent reason. Despite the call, the next train available was the one I would have taken any other day. And so I sat at my desk for 20 minutes, then sat on the train for another 40 or so, while my overheating babe sat abandoned.

The entire train ride, I willed the car to move just a little faster. I shot death stares at passengers who seemed to take a century to get onboard. I kept thinking about my sweet angel and how he (and his teachers) must be looking at the clock and shaking their heads. OK, so maybe he wasn't looking at the clock, being 6 months old and not being able to tell time and all. But he was judging me!

Upon pick-up, I did what I could to redeem myself. We went to the doctor (clean bill of health, no issues, just probably a passing virus). We kept him home today (lucky W). I snuggled and kissed him to sleep.

But still, I feel like I'm in the wrong. I should work closer. I shouldn't work at all. I should know some secret mommy way to keep the germs away.

Fail. Fail. Fail.

5 months, milestones, and making it work

Friday H turned 5 months. Little man is growing up so fast! I can hardly stand it!

To celebrate, H decided to become an offical sitter. Now we had been toying with the idea of sitting for weeks now. He would tripod for a bit, or sit for 5 seconds only to teeter over like a falling redwood. But Friday he really got it. He sat. He reached for a toy and didn't go crashing. He picked up said toy and shoved it into his mouth with glee. Yahoo!



Now that he's conquered this, H has already thrown himself into Operation: Crawl. He's determined. He pushes up his arms and torso and wriggles his feet furiously. If only he could figure out how to life that cute butt of his skyward. He lays there and grunts and moves and hopes but no movement. He gets so frustrated, but when I try to help him or turn him over for a break, he gets even angrier. Stop it, mom. I can DO it. Sweet, stubborn child.

In work/life news, W and I chatted and decided I really don't have a choice with the work schedule. We need my income to live the way we are and we want to have more put away before we consider dropping down to one income. Especially if we plan to have a second spawn. So W is going to take H to school in the mornings, allowing me to get into work mega early. I will then be able to leave before nightfall and get him from school and home at a decent hour. This means that nearly always H will be alseep by the time W gets home, but there's just no other way. At least they'll have some boy bonding time in the mornings.

I'll be keeping my eyes open for some miracle dream job that allows me to work whenever suits me while making six figures plus a company convertable (ha!), but this will have to do until then.

Bad news, bears

It's a no-go on the work schedule. No reasons. No explination. No justifcation as to why one of my coworkers can have it but I can't. Just a no.

I'm furious and broken at the same time. I have no options and am not sure what on earth to do. I know, having to work a normal schedule like the rest of the world isn't a death sentence, but it's not what I want. It's not fair to H. And it's about him now.

Do I just suck it up, ruin his schedule, never see him other than to place him in his crib and turn out the light? Do I try to look for a new job in this economy, knowing that it's slim pickings and that while I spend hours trying to find something, I'll still be working that crap schedule?

He's home sick as can be right now because of some nastiness his got at day care. He's already there 11 hours of day between my work schedule and commuting. I feel like a horrible mother and now I need to make it even worse.

I wish it were 1960 and I could just pour a few fingers of whiskey and ponder this issue like Don Draper. Or just quit and stay home like nearly every female on the show.

You do the math

Let me preface this rant with the following: I love my son. I love my life.

What I do not love is feeling like I'm not worthy of it. That I'm not doing enough in every single little aspect of it. That I'm not worthy of my supermom cape.

I wake up at 5:30 each morning, get myself ready, get H ready, and run out the door to daycare. I then fight an hour of traffic to get to work, where I deal with the standard office antics and bs, as well as pump twice. I then fight the same traffic the opposite direction, whisking H away from the center around 5:30 pm. We get home, I quickly feed him dinner, we have 15 minutes to chat and chill, then it's into the bath, into the pjs, and into dreamland (or into an hour-long fight as he tries to convince me 4-month-olds don't need sleep). Then I head downstairs, clean the house up, throw something in for dinner, clean the pump equipment, make bottles for the next day, and crash on the couch just long enough for W to come home and sit with me for 30 before I fall asleep.

This is not right. I am not spending enough time with my son. Poor W hardly gets to see him at all during the week. W and I have no time alone aside from heart-to-heart at 3 am when he swats me and mumbles "The baby wants you." I'm in and out of work as quickly as I can be and I'm worried I'm slacking there now because of it. I need another hour or two. I need a teleporter. I need a drink.

I've submitted a proposal to work to allow me to leave the office by 2 pm and work the last few hours from home. While this may not look like the way to become a better employee, having time with my son will make me happier and less crazy-eyed, so they would get that benefit. It's the only way I can currently see this working. H sets his bedtime and he has moved it up, and my job is to faciliate that. Hell, my job is to move mountains if he asks nicely.

So that's the sit. Cross your fingers and toes that something pans out. If not ...