I am an 80s child. My teenage years were spent in the midst of
the Cold War, punk rock, and hair-sprayed hair. I was lucky
enough to have parents who raised me to believe that I could
accomplish anything I wanted if I worked hard enough. I was
unlucky enough to spend my formative years brainwashed into
thinking that I could “have it all.”
I imagined myself one day adeptly juggling kids (who were
perfect), a home (that was also perfect), and a career (at which
I was perfect). No one told me–or the thousands of girls like
me–that “having it all” often means sacrificing things along
the way. “Having it all” does not leave room for “perfection”
because it means cramming as much into every second of every day
as possible. “Having it all” means cutting corners whenever
possible because 24 hours does not leave room for everything a
working mother must do in a given day.
After 13 years of marriage and 10 1/2 years of motherhood, I
have juggled children, a home, and a career. Notice the
deliberate absence of the adverb “successfully” between “have”
and “juggled.” But I suppose success is a relative term.
My kids are not perfect, but they are not bullies, they have
nice friends, and they do well in school (despite my fears that
they do not read enough). My home is not perfect, but it is
clean (if not as organized as I would like). My career, which
has changed several times during my adult life, is certainly not
perfect and always seems to interfere with my expectations for
myself as a mother.
I suppose I now mark my success with my children’s mile stones:
I was supremely proud, thrilled (and relieved) when my oldest
son told me that he liked the book Harry Potter and the
Sorcerer’s Stone better than the movie of the same name. I was
also thrilled when the same child received a rather long book
for Christmas last year, read the whole thing, and liked it! My
middle child recently took on the challenge of reading a book
that was probably somewhat above his reading level, determined
that he could read and understand it. (Notice the trend.)
Every time I think I have shed my 80s sensibilities regarding
work and motherhood, some insidious thought pops into my
consciousness. While I am supremely proud of my children and
their accomplishments (and still guilt ridden that I do not do
more with them in an educational sense), I am still looking for
the perfect career.
My earliest career attempts involved writing and editing in the
business world. There was not a lot of fulfillment, and I did
not spend as much time with my family as I wanted. I also did
not have time to cook pretty meals and keep my house up to snuff
(at least my snuff). (Has anyone mentioned high/out-of-reach
standards?)
The birth of my first child spawned an interest in education,
and the birth of my second child became the impetus to seek out
a career in the field. I went back to school, and two years
later, I emerged with a teaching certificate and a Master’s
degree in education. I actually thought that being a teacher
would “simplify” my life. The joke was on me. It was the hardest
– and second most fulfilling — thing I have ever done. I was
good at teaching and I loved it. A lot of teenagers write a lot
better because they spent time in my classroom; I am very proud
of that. However, it was also exhausting. I could easily have
worked 60 hour plus weeks (and sometimes did). Classrooms are
just too full. Imagine grading 140 essays that take 15 to 20
minutes each several times each quarter in addition to all of
the other grading and prep work.
My children would not have recognized a home cooked meal if they
did not encounter them at their grandparents’ homes. The laundry
was piled high (clean and dirty), and I had weeds in my flower
garden. I thought I was going to die the first year my oldest
child brought homework home. Factor in the newest trends in
education that tell teachers that everything they’ve been doing
is wrong and the politicians who think they know best (even
though their last classroom experiences were as students), and
you have a profession that can swallow you alive. As I said, I
loved teaching, but I hated the politics of public education.
Five years (and one more child) later, brings me to my keyboard
and this moment. I am still searching for a career that provides
not only income, family time, and fulfillment, but one that
makes me feel successful, as if I have realized that
unattainable dream. It seems that I cannot totally escape my
desire to “have it all” even though common sense dictates
otherwise.