KidKate

August 10, 2007

My last day of work, five weeks before Ellie was born. I was due back at work in London no later than August 8, 2008. I thought I would never last that long on maternity leave.

Then we moved to Baltimore, where working in my field is not an option, and I realized I kind of liked staying home. Our new life here allowed us to afford it, at least for a while, and the time slipped away from me. I set a new goal at when Ellie turned 1, and that day came and went.

And then one day, in early October, I found myself dying to go back to work. To get a new (or any, really!) haircut, to wear nice(r) clothes, to feel like an adult again really. To make decisions, to write things, to--shoot me now--go to meetings.

At the same time, I felt Ellie was ready for more stimulation than I alone could provide her. She revels in her time with other children, and though we do music classes, swim lessons, and playgroup (each once a week), it's not enough really, for either of us.

I started to feel panicky by the weight of these momentous decisions and then realized that she wasn't even weaned from nursing before nap times yet. When I tried dropping both her nap time feeds at once, I got sick, like I was pregnant. So I dropped one feed and then we went on a trip and the other effortlessly fell away.

I told myself I'd start looking for jobs and childcare once she was down to one nap a day instead of two. And then her two naps started to meld into one long one, and my friends assured me that daycare would take care of her new schedule.

I thought I might wait until she is walking or talking, but she is nearing 14 months now and though full sentences are a ways off, walking is just around the corner. Besides, I think I'll be able to tell if my baby's unhappy without her telling me in so many words.

So I decided to call a daycare I'd heard good things about and try to get on their waiting list. They had an opening on November 1. Nooo, I said, I can't do that. They said they'd take her mid-month and prorate it. I said I'd look at the place but probably pass on the November slot. And then we took a look and loved it with its beautiful water views and two playgrounds (one indoor and one out) and when Ellie said, "Hi! Hi! Hi!" and excitedly clapped her hands every time the door was opened to a new classroom, the deal was sort of sealed.

Yan quickly agreed to the (prohibitively expensive) cost once I explained that she would be in a new, smaller classroom (six kids) and that this way we could ease her in a few hours at a time rather than dropping her off for 40-plus hours per week from the very first.

So, my little girl starts "school" on November 17, and I? I have to find a job during possibly the worst recession of our young lives. I've sent out seven resumes so far and gotten no response (one little nibble for an ad agency that asked to see samples and then promptly lost my number--guess they  weren't impressed). I'm hoping I can dig up some freelance work from a few of my old agencies and a friend has thrown a few small leads my way. I really need to find something full-time but if I can just make a dent in the childcare cost, we'll be in decent shape.

It's kind of amazing to think that I'm blowing up my family's stable little system just so I can indulge myself by going back to work. But I feel like I have to. My big fear is that when Ellie and her (hypothetical) sibling tromps off to college, I will have nothing left. And though I know rationally that this is not true, it is what I want. So, here we go. Jump and a net will appear, yes?

No?

On that note, anybody need a copywriter-for-hire?

RutRutRutRutRut

As you may have noticed from the above, I am stuck in a rut. I think I've got myself a case of the one-year blues (as in, my baby is one--what I am I doing with my life anyway?). Part of the problem is that I am finding not-quite-toddlerhood much more challenging than I ever found infancy. Because Ellie was an (apparently) unusually easy baby, for the first 10 or 11 months of her life, I actually felt a little like I was getting away with something. I didn't experience (much) sleep-deprivation, and though Ellie was never one of those super mellow, almost supernaturally calm infants, she was mostly happy if there was a boob or spoonful of food in her mouth. On some days, I felt as if I were on an extended vacation--I kept thinking, I don't care what anybody says, this staying-home gig is much easier than working ever was.

But now? Now I am exhausted (you moms with older children, feel free to laugh). Though not yet walking, she is into everything and crawls with lightening speed. She naps less and needs more from me. She is easily frustrated and I honestly feel like there are days when we just need a break from each other. Until recently, I secretly believed that I was still the favorite parent, but Yan is the only recipient of those sweet baby hugs and kisses (clawing and hitting are reserved for me). I don't mind, really I don't--I am the one she turns to if she is hurt, or hungry, or upset--but I wonder if she and I had a little time away from each other, our relationship wouldn't be quite so ... intense. (I'm talking about a one-year-old. Does that sound crazy?) I joked the other day that she and I needed to go to couples therapy. But really, I think a few hours away from each other per week would do wonders for me, and for her.

The other part of the problem is that I am ready to go back to work (post forthcoming). I think at one year, a lot of people look around and decide either to return to work or have another baby. For many, many reasons (including a husband I almost never see, and having no idea where we will land in the next few years--or year, for that matter), I am not ready to have another baby, but I am ready for something more. A woman in the playgroup I attend just  went back to her career and put her child in daycare, and I can't tell you how envious I am (probably also sounds insane). At the same time I am terrified of being trapped in a full-time job I hate and seeing very little of Ellie. I'm worried about rushed mornings and evenings spent trying to get her fed, bathed, and into bed on my own, and weekends spent running errands with very little quality time. It's really the worst possible time to be thinking about going back to work--and that doesn't even take the economy into consideration--but I think I need to do it for me. And yes, I'm looking at part-time and work-from-home options (though to be honest, I am sort of loathe to work from home) though opportunities that pay well enough to cover childcare seem basically non-existent. And to be honest, I prefer to return full-time and perhaps return part-time after we have another child. We'll see.

Not quite sure how to close this ineloquent post ... I think the cure for my problem is action, getting back on the horse, etc, but right now I just feel kind of stuck. Anybody else feel this way?