Ice Cream and Having it All

I never eat ice cream at home.  I'll buy some at the store every now and then but always end up throwing it away a few months later when it's covered in ice crystals.  I do love the stuff and frequently buy it when I'm out, enjoying every bite of my overpriced scoop, even as the cheap part of me screams that I could get a whole gallon for what I just payed.  I do the same thing with alcohol.  JP and I still have bottles of liquor he bought when he turned 21 almost 7 years ago- we very rarely drink at home even though we both hate that we spend 10x more at a bar.  Anyway, the point is that neither heartbreak nor stress nor my in-laws has ever sent me to the ice cream hidden deep in my freezer, but two days home with a toddler has been eating out of the container with a spoon at 2:30 in the afternoon.  

Since the Bar I've been asked quite a bit what I think about starting work.  I always respond that I'm excited and looking forward to it, and that's the truth, but it seems superficial.  I've been looking for my deeper, more conflicted feelings, but I haven't found any yet.  I think about the hours, about the loss of control of my schedule, about the time away from Landon, and then I remember that all jobs would involve those things to some extent.  Not working is not an option I entertain, even when I'm lying in bed at night thinking about all kinds of crazy paths my life could take.  It's not even the financial necessity- though with a house, loans, a husband in grad school, a toddler, and two large, hungry dogs, that is certainly there.  It's the fact that I'm fundamentally not meant to stay at home.

I could be good at it, I suppose.  Our house is clean and decorated, I do the laundry, run errands, pay the bills, and even plan to make dinner tonight, but none of that makes me happy or satisfied beyond the fact that it's pleasant to have clean clothes and a meal that isn't cereal.  I do love being with Landon and I'm cherishing our time together, but even while I close my eyes to freeze certain perfect moments in my memory, I know that much of my enjoyment comes from the fact that this will end.  I start work in two weeks.  This is why I chased him around the living room long after my knees were sore and I thought of ten things I should be doing instead.  This is why I held him and read to him and sang songs far in excess of our usual pre-nap routine.  I'm able to cherish it, to love it, because I know we have 13 days left before days like today will be relegated to weekends, holidays, and vacations.  I'm sure that should make me sad, but as I realized while digging into my gallon of vanilla bean ice cream topped with mini chocolate chips, it doesn't, and that's okay.  When I start work he will go to a wonderful daycare.  He will play with other babies in a sun-filled room of windows and toys and experienced teachers.  He will have a happy mother who doesn't look at the clock and count down until nap time, he will have a happy father who is equally involved in his care, and he will grow up watching his parents pursue their dreams, support each other, and love him.  

I frequently hear women say they want to be examples for their daughter, showing her she can successfully pursue both a career and family, but I think it's just as important- possibly more important - to be an example for your son.  As a girl I was constantly told I could do anything- be anything I wanted to be, and I believed it.  But as an adult, as a wife and mother, I know that isn't true unless the person you marry believes it too.  JP and I split everything- nothing, including all things baby (except pregnancy, that was all me), household chores, and cooking, is "my" job.  This, more than any girl power poster or teacher's comment is why I believe I'll be able to have the career I've worked for and the family life I've always wanted.  I hope Landon's wife will have that choice too. 

Of course I do worry about how my career will affect Landon, but I know that I've made each decision along the way with him in mind (long before I was even pregnant) and I will continue to do so.  He won't have the mom I had - at home, ready with an afternoon snack when I walked in the door from school, and that makes me a little sad- I wouldn't change my childhood for anything in the world.  But I am not my mother, a fact that has often been a source of frustration for me, but one that is true.  Sometimes I wish that I wanted to stay home - when Landon snuggles against me before his nap or when we're sitting on the floor of the play room making faces at each other... but I don't.  It's a simple truth but one that makes my decision easy.  Will there be sacrifices along the way, times when I miss something or resent my corporate commitments?  Absolutely.  But I know I'm on the right path, even if it can't be the perfect one, and I expect that will help quite a lot.