We Can't Have It All

Last week, I worked a lot. Like, all day, every day, for four days. While I've worked all but two months of Reagan's life, I'm now working more, and I love it. I love what I do, I love the experiences I get to have, and I love that I get to work usually from home.

But suffice it to say, last week was a challenge, albeit a mostly happy one. My husband was home in the mornings, and then my in-laws took over so I could get everything done. It was, I reasoned, the best of both worlds.

On Thursday, I was working from a coffee shop, and, while I was waiting on some information to finish an article, started a blog about being a working mother, and the difficulties, challenges and successes of filling that role. I waxed poetic about balance, having a hands-on father, splitting household chores and hoping I raised a son, and eventually a daughter, who see both their mother and their father worked hard to support them, while making sure we both had plenty of hands on time with them as well.

Blah blah blah blah blah.

I admit, I was feeling pretty good about life when I wrote it. I left to go run some errands, came home, and turned my article in early because I was itching to spend some time with my little boy. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I thought we'd play outside, maybe even go to the park.

I scooped his sweet little toddler self up and told him Mommy was ready to PLAY!! He asked if he could watch something on my computer. I said no, we were going to go outside to PLAY!!

He said, and I quote, "Mommy, go bye bye again. I want my Daddy back."

Just to make sure I got the message loud and clear, he repeated it for me. About 20 times.

And then I trashed the blog.

The truth is, we can't have it all. Or, at least not all at the same time.

I wrote before, in my knee-jerk reaction to an article by Amy Glass that crucified women who chose to stay home and raise their family, that whatever choice we make as mothers is for us the right choice, whether it's to take on a grueling job or to be a stay-at-home mom. When I said that, I was coming from a place of anger that another woman would dare criticize the choices that I make, and ones that my friends make.

But, now that I'm balancing working more with wanting to have time with my sweet son, I'm even more aware of just how challenging this balance is, and accepting the fact that there will rarely be a moment where everything swings in perfect harmony.

The working mother balance is not new to this generation. It's been going on for centuries, but at least we're finally getting some company. For the first time, at least that I am aware, the conversation is shifting to mothers and fathers. After Esquire posted an article on their website last year, saying that the issue is one that affects men and women, Hal Edward Runkel shared his thoughts on the balance teeter-totter that both parents face on the 'Today' show.

“It’s this ridiculous notion that we’re supposed to have everything we want at all the time we want it and that’s never going to happen,” Runkel said. “What we have to do is… prioritize. Figure out: what do you want most? Because failure is whenever we sacrifice what we want most for what we want right now.”

My husband and I have had many, many conversations about how we will continue to balance in the future. We don't have any answers yet, but we're open to exploring all options, however unconventional they might be. He shared a great article by writer Peter Mountford with me last week (read it here), about the struggle men face when they choose to stay home so their wife can work.

"The reality is that no parent I know—regardless of gender—has the luxury of making a choice about how he or she will balance the demands of work and childcare," he says. "The decision isn’t heroic or cowardly. It isn’t even a decision. No, this here—this is economics."

So, the truth is I work because I want to work, but also because I need to work. But, also, because I want to work. And for most of the time I was working last week, I was happy and fulfilled and thrilled in a way that, much as I love my son, I don't get while coloring outside with chalk or watching him go down the sliding board or putting a puzzle together.

I'm not going to lie -- I shed a few tears when he told me he wanted "my daddy" back. But, now that I'm several days removed from it, I see that I can choose to be grateful that he has such a wonderful, hands-on father. I am thankful that we have, so far, been able to avoid the high cost of child care while both contributing to our household finances. And someday, he too will understand the sacrifices I made, and the sacrifices we as a family made, which hurt in the moment but are better when considering the bigger picture.

I can't spend every moment with him. I get way more time with him than parents in some careers have. I don't get as much time with him as some other people have. But we can't have it both ways, so we have to choose, and we will continue to have to choose every day until he leaves home. It's an ongoing balancing act, without an easy answer, but with countless rewards on both sides of the pendulum.

Why 9/11 Still Matters

Sept. 11. It was the day that was intended to tear America apart. Instead, it became the day that united us.

Everyone who experienced that day remembers where they were when they heard the news. I was watching TV while getting ready for work. It was a beautiful, sunny, early fall day and I was in a good mood. A really good mood.

I called my parents, 800 miles away, as soon as I heard. Together we sat and watched, while the footage played of the first plane, and then, to everyone's horror, the second plane, hitting the Twin Towers.

And then the towers fell.

I remember feeling so alone in that moment, witnessing the horror unfold. I wanted to be at my childhood home. I wanted to be with my parents. I wanted to be anywhere but sitting in my bedroom watching terror in action. So I met a couple friends downtown for breakfast. It was typically a noisy restaurant, but that day it was somber. Everyone's eyes stayed glued to the small TV screens, trying to get more news.

Another plane crashed in Pennsylvania. I knew people who lived in the area where the plane crashed. Then the Pentagon. Everyone wondered what would happen next. Everyone wondered if we would be next.

Those actions couldn't be undone. It was senseless, brutal injustice. It was the embodiment of evil. Almost 3000 people died while the world watched.

Yet we also saw heroism like we had never seen before. Firefighters rushing up the stairs to rescue those they could, knowing they might not come back down. Police officers and paramedics and civilians and executives and minimum-wage workers digging through rubble, looking for life. Stories of selfless airline passengers, who died so the rest of America could live.

Crime in New York City almost came to a complete stop in the immediate aftermath. We were kinder to each other. We celebrated our togetherness, instead of pointing out our differences. We were in this -- this journey of life -- together. We weren't divided. We were united. We were strong.

I pray we never go through another 9/11. But there's so much unrest in the world, I think we all feel a sense of vulnerability. I would like to think it's impossible for something like that to happen again, but I know better. The news all around us shows nations and people groups and religions and cultures battling each other out, each wanting the other one gone. This will surely be remembered as one of the most volatile times in human history.

But, we were strong before, and we can be strong again. Surely we don't need to go through another national tragedy to unite us. We can be better than that. Without the massive fatalities, the injuries, the toll it took on loved ones, the trauma -- without all of that, we can still come together. We can still stand united.

We can stop looking at differences and start looking at similarities. We can accept that people don't have to be just like us to be respected and treated with kindness. We can celebrate our uniqueness. We can cooperate.

We can do better. We did it before and we can do it again.

It starts with each of us.

It starts with me.