juggling work and children Archives - Circles in the SandCircles in the Sand

I vaguely recall being in my mid-20s, working as an editor on a magazine and having no children barnacled to my ankle. There were several working mums in the company, and rather than thinking ‘how do they do it?’, I would wonder to myself, ‘why do they do it?’

It just looked so exhausting; all that juggling, constantly being on pick-up deadlines, and trying to have it all. They also seemed, dare I say it, pleased to be at work. I remember one going on holiday with small children and coming back looking more tired, ragged and hollow-eyed than before.

Fast-forward 15 years, and the tables are turned. At one company I work for, there’s a 50:50 split between parents and non-parents, and while everyone, for the most part, jollies along together, the divide occasionally widens into a gaping canyon.

Just before Christmas, a children’s afternoon was arranged, in which an onslaught of small kids arrived to wreak havoc in the office. As they drank apple juice in the boardroom, smeared sugary donuts all over the furniture and hid behind the filing cabinets, I sat back and enjoyed the whole thing, mainly because my boys weren’t there to have to supervise.

I loved watching my colleagues – steely journalists – in Dad mode (not many of the mums brought their kids in, can’t think why), but it didn’t go down well with everyone. One young fella, about as far off reproducing as I was in my mid-20s, looked visibly pained by the chaos, and eyed any toddlers who approached him as though they might be carrying explosives.

Before sidling off home early, I heard him say: “They did this last year too. One kid ate so much junk that she was SICK everywhere.” [almost shuddering as he recalled the horror!]

I’m the one (happily, depending on the day) in the shadows now!

For me, the mix of parents and non-parents is a refreshing change, but at another place I work, it’s a different set-up: the staff are all younger and it’s here that I came across her:

The 20-something career woman with no children, bucket-loads of ambition, two Blackberries and dry-clean-only clothes.

And I found myself working for her.

At about 5.40pm, she (nicely) asked me to make some fairly extensive changes on the project I was working on.

“Ok,” I said, nodding, and because she needed them that evening and DH was already on his way to pick me up, I offered to email it later.

“What time?” she asked, a little sharply.

I made a mental calculation: get home [45mins]; see kids [1.5 hours]; bedtime routine and reading [1 hour]; do work [1.5 hours] … it would be at least 10.45pm.

“Um. About….” I couldn’t say it. “9?’

We locked eyes. I could feel tension. She wasn’t impressed.

Ouch.

“Alright, I’ll stay now and get it done,” I relented.

“Good,” she trilled, and turned on her heel to get back to her desk to start her evening shift.

One day – if she has kids, that is – she’ll get it.

It’s become a bit of a pattern in our household that whenever DH goes away on a trip (packs bag, disappears to the other side of the world), my corner of the planet starts throwing curveballs.

Thankfully, it’s usually only minor things, like being offered work on a day the children really need me, a poorly child, tantrums, a scrap between the boys that ends in injury. Or a household appliance breaking down.

Today, the car wouldn’t start after a playdate – at Motor City, of all places (maybe the car thought the autodrome looked more fun, or maybe I’ve watched Cars with the boys too many times). Again, though, this could have been so much worse, as anyone who’s broken down on the highway in 40 degrees heat, with children who need the toilet, will attest to.

Whilst I only got as far as Motor City today, DH gallivants the world

The sweet thing is, when DH is away, especially far away, like in Sydney last week or Seoul this week, he really worries about us.

“We’ll be fine,” I always say. “Don’t worry about us! What could go wrong?” I lie! [temping fate, I know!]

“I’m perfectly capable of looking after the children – and the cars,” I claim in mock indignation.

So, tonight when he skyped from South Korea after receiving my text about the broken-down car, I had some explaining to do.

“Erm, yes, the car. I just left it there. And the boys. Yes, both fine. But I have to work tomorrow, and so a complete stranger is picking LB up from school.”

Not a complete stranger, of course – she’s another (very nice) mum with a child in the same class who I talked to for the first time today after a moment of mummy desperation, in which I realised I couldn’t let LB (and our nanny) come hurtling home at 130kph in a taxi.

Now, I just have to keep everything crossed that LB actually agrees to go with her, walks to her car and climbs in it – because, as we all know, shepherding three-year-old children is rather like herding cats.