Plan B

Last summer I was self-employed and had lots of flexibility in my schedule, which meant long days by the pool with the kid and her friends, time at the gym when I wanted it, and spur-of-the-moment lunches with friends.

It also meant wondering where my next paycheck was going to come from, losing sleep over that bill I could barely pay, and a general burned-outty feeling I couldn’t shake.

So, after months of soul searching and then job hunting, I got a job. You, know, a “real job”? With a steady paycheck and paid holidays? The kind I always thumbed my nose at and pitied other “real job” holders for.

And it hasn’t been that bad. My hours still allow me to drop my kid off at school and pick her up after, and really? There is a kind of cool feeling in knowing that your bank tank is going to get refilled no matter what, and that there wouldn’t have to be any hustling to make it happen. The money would just get faithfully deposited every other Friday. How novel.

But now summer has come again. And the Working Mother Shuffle has begun. M and I worked out a summer schedule for S, most of which would require him to do the legwork in the mornings since he starts work later than I do, and wouldn’t you know it, the first week of summer and we are already off to a rocky start. He spent the morning bouncing around from Plan A to Plan B to Plan C – all the while knowing he had to get to work -- and thankfully was able to secure care for the kid.

Meanwhile, I was at work wondering what the hell we were going to do if one of those last-minute back-up plans didn’t pan out, and I found myself feeling nostalgic for those self-employed days. I began working up these elaborate fantasies in my head where OTHER mothers – the kind that stay home and revolve their days around their children – are calmly packing picnic lunches for a day at the beach, or hosting a giggly, educational play date at their cozy house where their lucky children don’t have to stress about being bounced around from Plan A to Plan B to Plan C, because they are safely ensconced in a consistent Plan A that never changes, and oh…. Was I really doing this to myself?

Yes, I was. And I do. And I think all mothers do. And I think even those OTHER mothers – the ones whose Plan A never has to move into a Plan B – I think that maybe even they sometimes wish there was a Plan B. Because in the end? We are all just doing the best we can.

~Patti