Career vs Motherhood

My life as a house wife…
Yesterday I got up at 7am, switched the telly to ABC kids, made a peanut butter sandwich and went back to bed. At 8:20am the husband told me (rather forcefully) that I should get up NOW and get my kid organized. I did. I got her to pre-school dressed, hair brushed, clean teeth and face, lunch made and totally organized. I however, walked in the gate (in my track pants and polar fleece jacket) and realized I hadn't brushed my hair. Got the kid settled and came home again.
Over breakfast, listening to Cat Stevens who is banned in this household, I decided what to do for dinner. I packed my bag and headed off to the gym.
10 minutes on the Stairmaster and 20 minutes on the cross trainer and I figured I had done my penance for the previous day.
Then I went and got my eyebrows done, then had a coffee. Luxury.
Came home, had my lunch – left over chicken tom yum – then went and got the little kid from preschool. She reprimanded me for being late (almost 2 minutes!!) and we went home and watched half of The Princess Bride.
I adore the fact that she likes Princess Bride, along with The Addams Family (old and new) and Edward Scissor Hands. For this I can forgive the Barbie as Repunzal and Little Mermaid faff I am forced to endure.
Just as Buttercup and Wesley headed into the Fire Swamp the little kid and I headed off to collect the stepson from school. We deposited him at music school and then went to The Warehouse (looking for a mat for the laundry, didn't find one) and High Country Meats where I mistakenly purchased a kilo of sirloin. I thought that at $10 a kilo it was a bargain. It turned out to be rubbish – very grisly and fatty. You get what you pay for.
Collected the stepson and headed home. Did some housework while the little kid trashed her room and the big kid watched telly.
I cooked dinner for the little kid and got her fed and into the bath. Cleaned her room while she was in the bath so she would have a bed to sleep in – she complained she wanted to sleep on the floor. Finally got her dry, pygamad, storied and tucked in.
The husband arrived home and took the big kid to Tai Kwando (he's on his red belt now – the little thug) and I started preparing the grown-ups dinner.
I wanted to do mash potato with parmesan, rocket and semi-drieds to have with our steak and red wine jus. I was informed that it was too fancy and just do plain mash and veg and no sauce for the steak. Which I did, albeit with a certain amount of resentful teeth grinding, and I made a creamy mushroom sauce for the steak to spite them.
Dinner was eaten, TV watched and the kitchen cleaned. I burned a couple of Velvet Acid Christ cd's for the husband, who is going through an electronica phase at the moment, and at about midnight fell into bed.
So my days go by. Today preschool is cancelled due to the teacher being ill so my morning gym class didn't happen. We are about to head to the supermarket to buy ingredients to make biscuits to take with us to our play date this afternoon.
Do I miss working? When I reflect on my previous life I am in awe of how I coped with working full time, parenting and juggling a social life and a long distance relationship. I was constantly stressed, tired and run down. I perpetually had cold sores and headaches. My house was a disaster, I ate badly and rarely exercised. The kid was always well cared for, always had clean clothes and good food and ample attention, but there was rarely enough care left for myself. I guess the answer to that question is I wasn't coping and it was probably only a matter of time before I fell apart.
Prior to giving birth I had always been totally independent and self-sufficient. I could cope with anything and was more than competent with anything I decided to do, whether it be making croissants from scratch or cleaning out the car's carburettor. I expected to deal with motherhood in the same efficient, competent manner. The problem is that motherhood isn't a task like fixing the car. There is no workshop manual to consult. It is an emotional, physical and psychological challenge with almost no discernable rewards for quite some time. It's hard work, harder than anyone who hasn't done it can imagine and impossible to describe accurately. Previously I was so tired and stressed that when the rewards did come – babies' first smile, her little arms reaching for me – I couldn't see them. Now when my little girl climbs onto my lap and we snuggle up to watch a movie I can relax and enjoy it. I don't have to be worried about washing or cleaning because there is time for that later. And if I run out of time my husband will pick up the slack. I have the luxury of being able to enjoy time with her. It's far from utopia; when she is lying on the floor in the supermarket screaming I would happily swap her for a biacore, but only briefly. The shopping centre dramas are usually forgotten the instant we are back in the car and she starts singing "my mummy wears black and her hair is black and white but her favourite colour is red.."
So my days are filled with mundane, seemingly trivial things. But all of these things add up to a constantly strengthening relationship with my daughter and a sense of self worth and achievement that is worth more than journal articles or pay rises.