I am officially published. As of May 13, 2009, I was a published writer. That's right. Maybe I should capitalize it. Published Writer. Published Writer. And in The Globe and Mail no less!!
What a total and amazing rush. Setting a goal to be published this year and then seeing my name in the byline of The Globe and Mail made me so ridiculously proud.
Everyone was so unbelieveably supportive - Steve, family, friends, colleagues - total rush.
Unfortunately the Globe online underwent a major redesign two weeks after it waspublished so I can't link to the article as it ran but I found a mobile version (update: you need to copy and paste the following url into your browser but I also pasted it as it appeared, at the bottom of this entry).
I also very much enjoyed the firestorm of comments that came out of my essay. There were 107 at last count - some very nasty and judgemental ones that questioned my decision to even have kids and others that were very supportive and totally understood what it meant to have a loving family - one that works together and believes that happy parents are great parents. Rush!!
And that's that. For now.
Ssy
Facts & Arguments Essay
From Wednesday's Globe and Mail Published on Wednesday, May. 13, 2009 12:00AM EDT Last updated on Thursday, Jul. 09, 2009 12:31PM EDT
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My heart started to pound. I was in a total panic.
After some serious number-crunching, my husband Steve had just offered me the opportunity of a lifetime: staying at home with our sons, three-year-old Duncan and 11-month-old Griffin.
"We'd have to pull Duncan from preschool, we'd need to shop a little smarter and we wouldn't be able to get that cleaning lady that we wanted to hire, but we could do it," Steve said.
I had mentioned to him, the night before, that I was starting to get weepy about my mat leave coming to an end. And then he surprised me with that dangling carrot.
I had never given staying at home any serious thought. That "weepy day" just happened to be a wonderful, tantrum-free one full of playing, shopping and napping - and no chores. It was one of those few and far between, perfect, at-home-mom days.
I thought about my husband's suggestion for five minutes, and then let the idea pass.
I awoke the next morning to a pounding headache. Could I stay at home? Wasn't that what so many young mothers wanted? A chance to be a full-time, 24/7 mother to her children? Wasn't I supposed to want to jump to the phone, dial my boss's number and tender my resignation immediately?
Why, then, was that the last thing I wanted to do? I was being suffocated with the notion of staying at home. Wasn't I jealous that two of my friends had just happily decided to do the same thing? What exactly had I been jealous of?
It wasn't that I was exceptional at my job in the financial industry or anything. I surely wasn't looking forward to a daily 6 a.m. shower and subsequent meltdown over what shirt-and-pants combo best minimized that muffin-top roll at my waist. In short, I hadn't been chomping at the bit to go back, but the assumption was that I would go. End of story. This opportunity was a real surprise for me.
The day I returned to work after my first maternity leave
, I was drunk with excitement at dinnertime, telling Steve everything about the day: all the uninterrupted conversations I had had with people, how happy everyone was to see me and, mainly, how everything was exactly the same.
I had been so anxiety-ridden for the month leading up to my return that I was giddy at the end of my first day back to learn that nothing had changed in my post-baby working world.
We had the luck of finding a great babysitter just down the street from us, so my child was in good hands. The busy new routine aside, I was quite enjoying my newfound me time again. I had forgotten about me for a while. To have people's undivided attention for adult conversation all day long was dreamy.
I even (gasp) enjoyed the commute with my iPod and my book. That's right, I enjoyed riding the subway. Possibly the only thing a stay-at-home mom is not guaranteed in her day is time alone. But a commuter is promised that 20 minutes twice a day. Sure, that time is shared with hundreds of strangers and the same number of unidentified smells, but it's still time to myself.
I might have had a different response to my husband's offer had it been after my first maternity leave. I think I would have been way more open to the idea, especially since I knew other young moms who would be off as well and I was used to spending the whole day with my son. Most importantly, I despised the idea of giving him to someone else to care for during the day.
But with hindsight being 20/20, it all worked out. And I don't think I would have changed things if I had had the opportunity.
Truthfully, the idea of staying at home with both boys scared me. I didn't fully understand the fear since I knew I could do it. The problem was did I want to do it? And how awful was I for voicing this concern?
I don't want to stay at home with my children full-time. There. I said it, first to myself and then to my husband. It sounded so ugly and I felt dirty for saying it, but it was the truth. I think we're all better off with me working outside our home.
Thankfully, Steve didn't judge me. He didn't mention the fact that I'm basically working in order to pay for our astronomical daycare expenses. We never discussed it again.
Except for the time when we humored the idea of having a third child - now that would mean I would have to stay home and probably even force us to move to the suburbs for more space. But that's not likely to happen.
Stephanie Rebot Tarling lives in Toronto.
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