Today was one of those days that makes you feel simultaneously like a superhero and a card-carrying failure.
I got a radio gig, found out about it yesterday afternoon. Great news, national spot -but it recorded at 10:30am today. Less than 24 hours notice to find someone to take the kid. And let the antics begin. Of course, first stop is the hubby - but he has meetings all morning and won't be able to help. Several calls to several good friends with the greatest of intentions but no free time ensues. Much cursing about not having a nanny at my beck and call, more calling, swearing about not having any retired grandmothers in town, more calling, tears at the unfairness of it all, more calling. No luck.
Finally, the women in my playgroup come through, God bless them. They are happy to take Emma while I record, and then I'll meet up with them later. Our playgroup that morning is at Millennium Park, Emma can play and listen to a music concert, she'll never even know I'm gone. Stress remains though, b/c...they can only keep her until Noonish. What if my booking goes past that? Sure, I only have two lines, and everyone knows I'm brilliant and can hit it out of the ballpark on the first three wild reads, but still...I could be reading with other people, have a demanding producer, on-the-site rewrites, bad mics...anything could happen to delay, and officially, I'm theirs for the day. So. Back-up plan. Call the sister. Can she be a back up and go get Emma at Millennium Park on her lunch hour if I'm not back by Noon? Sure, she says. I don't think she's jumping up and down about it, but she doesn't hesitate to say yes either. Thank God for family. Everything's set.
Then, this morning. Emma wakes up and her fever is back, the one she's been fighting since Friday. She's in a horrible mood, and since I'm the only one there to punish for it, punish me she does. No Millennium Park - I can't let her around the other kids with a fever, I'd feel too guilty if they caught something. Plus she's lethargic, tired, cranky - all the things us adults are when WE don't feel well. So again, the scramble. And again, first I call the hubby. He listens supportively while at the same time reminding me that he's unavailable, and it's true - he isn't - and I know it's not his fault, but at the same time I realize that what he's REALLY saying to me, albeit in the nicest way possible, is "Good luck, hope you figure something out, but honestly...this isn't my problem."
And that's when it truly hits me - in situations such as these, Emma is MY responsibility. Not his, not ours - mine. It's a blameless situation - Chris can't help that he's stuck in meetings and his schedule can't be cleared - but at the same time, it chaps to know that, as the official "breadwinner" and full-time worker, his schedule takes precedence. Even though it's a national radio spot that should pay a lot, and it's legitimate work and no less important than his, the situation dictates that - hey, baby - I'M the one that signed up for the full-time Mommy gig, so I'm the one who needs to figure out what to do with the kid. And this is a road we have been down a LOT. I mean, my schedule would put a professional circus juggler to shame, while he gets to show up at 7, leave at 3:30, and poof - he's DONE. But when does my day end? Truly - does it ever?
And it dawns on me, right at that moment - how many other mothers out there deal with this? Deal with taking care of a kid or kids all day long, no help, while also juggling many other jobs (I have three that I can think of just off the top of my head) around an already-hectic toddler's schedule, so that the only way they are able to fit in auditions, gigs, shows, work, etc., which adds up to approximately 50-60 hours of work a week, ON TOP OF being a Mom, is to basically ask favors of everyone you know and try to act like you don't notice the eye-rolls and heavy sighs (although God love them, most respond with a hearty "Of course I can!" - gotta love good friends), learn to do 10 hours of work in 1 hour's time, and generally walk around sleep-deprived and one unkind word away from a nervous breakdown every minute of the day. I suspect there are many of us out there, and oh - if only we could join together! Power in numbers! Except each of us thinks we are alone! Well, psst...to anyone who's listening...you are NOT alone, I'm out here doing it too, and I know who you are and how you are feeling right now and this is my online blog hug to you b/c honey - I know exactly how much you need it.
So, in the end, my lovely sister came through and took an early lunch, I prayed and was rewarded with a quick, 20-minute recording session (I told you I was brilliant), my wonderful husband came home from work and whisked the sick kid away so I could get some "me" time (squeezed in between cleaning up from a dinner party last night, answering over 50 work emails, tending to a sick and VERY cranky kid all afternoon, trying to cross at least 5 things off my 78-item to-do list, and preparing for four hours of tech tonight at the theatre), and now - here I am. I'm feeling a bit calmer, like I can (and will) start it all tomorrow without first wondering if there's some clause somewhere that can still let me back out of this whole thing with no repercussions. But I can't help remembering that one moment today, rushing from one job to the next, worried about the sick kid and how she was getting along, when I almost ran over a bicyclist at Grand and Michigan and was then subjected to a 2-minute word-lashing that reduced me to tears (red lights are looongggg when you are being damned to hell), and I thought - this is it, over the deep end I go, ta ta, see you all on the other side of la-la land, I am done. But then I just took a deep breath, rolled down my window and screamed at the biker at the top of my lungs, "Would you just shut up and RIDE! I have things to do, I'm too BUSY for this, I AM A MOTHER for Christsakes! I wish I had the time to tool around on a BIKE all day!" And then I cruised away with the stunned bicyclist nothing but a dot in my rearview mirror.
Superhero and failure. Cuckoo and utterly sane. The life of a mother.
And tomorrow is another day.
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