Select Page
The Early Bird Gets the Guilt

The Early Bird Gets the Guilt

My last post, coupled with this one, ought to give you a good picture of why it has been so long since I’ve posted. Moving and work. Work and moving. The problem is that I had no idea how true the title of my last post would be when I wrote it. We are literally, barely moving. We have had 25 showings in the 82 days we have been on the market.   It’s a very respectable number, and those showings have resulted in some lovely (and not so lovely) feedback about our house. The part of my brain that holds the fiery, sarcastic venom would love to share some of the more…interesting…buyer comments with you, but I’ll save them for late night texts, laden with obscure Emojis, fired off in whiny frustration to my parents. Not one of those 25 potential buyers has made an offer yet. So—we plod on, spending hours on end cleaning and improving, and trusting God’s timing, and wondering if we really do want to move now that we’ve finished projects we should have done years ago, and our house looks so nice… but then, all 7 of us spend a weekend in our modest little ranch house and we all remember how precious square footage can be. Plus, building on sounds like such a mess. The sawdust. The hammering. The unusable kitchen and trying to cook for 7 people on a hot plate in my living room. Bring on showing #26, I say!

So, on to the other half of my absenteeism. Simply put: being a working parent stinks. Don’t get me wrong, I am so grateful for my job. I truly love my boss and my coworkers. The culture of my company is uh-mazing. I can wear a suit one day, and my super-cute-but-sweatpant-level-comfy boyfriend jeans the next. It’s not the job. The job allows me to pay for our home and Christian school and violin lessons and gymnastics. It allows me to give to my church and to causes I believe in. It also supports my shoe habit (which has been hindered a bit now that we are in the market for the aforementioned square footage). So, it’s definitely not the job. I manage high-profile, complex projects, and I thrive on the panicky thrill of it. God put me where I am for a reason—even when I thought I knew better. He carefully steered me right where I needed to be and has blessed me over and over and over since. It feels so good to be good at what I do. I hope that doesn’t sound braggy. I don’t mean it to be. I screw up. I have to Google unfamiliar industry terms at least 14 times a day. I just know a good thing when I have it, and thank you, God—I have it. However, being a mom and marketer is hard. So hard.

My husband is suffering from the pungent stink of working parenthood too. My oldest stepson has had two track meets so far this season, and work obligations have prevented my husband from attending both of them. Hearing his son confirm how disappointed he is pours salt on the already raw wound that all working parents have. I can’t stop thinking about it either. I remember how proud I was knowing that my parents were sitting in the stands. I hate it for my stepson, and I hate it for my husband. Last night, I was on a 12 mile run, getting panicky texts every few miles from him that he was still stuck in a meeting and he was going to miss the whole thing. Of course then I started imagining my stepson progressing through his races, realizing on the last one that his dad wasn’t going to make it. My imagination has a flair for the dramatic. I would have loved to show up to cheer for him, but we’re still at the stage of our blended family where a solo appearance from the stepmom might elicit a reaction other than joy. Hopefully that will change someday, but until then, I’m cheering for him in my imagination and will cheer for him in person, next to my husband when we can be there.

Working parents (inside and outside the home, in most cases) can’t do everything or be everywhere, and for those of us who want to excel at everything, that realization is a bitter pill to swallow. We rarely feel 100% present for anything. When we are with our kids, we worry about deadlines. When we are at work, the guilt-song of missing something important to our kids is the soundtrack for every conference call.

Today, after I picked my kids up (an hour later than I promised) from school, my daughter excitedly told me that her 1st grade field trip to a dairy farm is next Thursday. “NEXT Thursday? Are you sure?” I asked her. As she confirmed the date and went on and on about how excited she is for me to go with her, I had to break the news that I will be on a work trip in Los Angeles next Thursday. Her big, beautiful, blue eyes immediately filled up with tears. She tried so valiantly to be cool about it, but her words came out as a tragic wail. “That’s okay, Mommy. I understaaaaaaaaaaaand.” My heart scrunched up into a little knot as the Mom-guilt beat it with a baseball bat. Oh, those heartbroken little sobs. Ugh. It burns.

I wish I had some poignant encouragement for all of you parents out there who are going through the same stuff. You know those “Dear Mom Who Thinks She’s ______ (insert failure of choice)” blogs? The ones that make you want to stand up on your office chair and yell “I’m flawed and that’s awesome! Go me!” Yeah…this isn’t one of those. The push and pull of work vs. life doesn’t seem to get any easier. Ever. Next week, I go to Louisville to Chicago to Los Angeles and back, and I know that every minute, I’ll be wondering what my kids and husband are up to and counting the hours until I get home to the sweet monotony of cleaning my house for showings and packing lunches and listening to spelling words. It’s hard, but it’s reality. It’s okay because it has to be if I want to continue to be the kind of parent who not only provides the necessities of life for my kids, but models hard work to them too. Whether you are a stay at home parent or a corporate road warrior, I’ll pray for you, and you pray for me, okay? All God requires of us is to give our best. If my best is awkwardly crying into my airport burrito while my daughter goes to a dairy farm without me, then that’s my best, and that’s okay. God will handle the rest.

One final note…I can never unsee the “miracle of life” that was the calf being born when I went with my son on that same field trip. The memory is still so fresh and…squishy. I have been mentally preparing for two years to see it a second time with my daughter’s class, but work has intervened at the last moment, like a governor with the 11:59pm pardon.

Now that I think of it, maybe being a working parent has its perks…

Was It Really Worth It?

Was It Really Worth It?

If you are a working mom (or dad…or human…), you’ve likely suffered at some point from PVD—Post Vacation Dread. It starts out like any other virus–a little twinge here and there on your departing flight. A nagging little reminder on your return flight of the aches and pains to come. At my previous place of employment, PVD was a pandemic. During vacation season, it was nothing but bleary-eyed colleagues, staggering around the halls in a caffeinated haze, clutching their smoking laptops and pathetically asking “what happened while I was out of the office?” So many things, friend. So. Many. Things.

If you would have asked one of them (or me, for that matter) if it was “worth it” to take a vacation, knowing what awaited upon the return to the office, the answer would have been, at best, “I don’t know.” We were given a generous allotment of vacation time each year, and in the 7 years I was with the company, I used all of my vacation time only once. Once. I didn’t even come close the other 6 years. Why? It just wasn’t worth it. Instead of enjoying a stress-free, blissful vacation with my family, more often than not I found myself skeptically enjoying the first three days, and then spending the last four days nervously checking my inbox, panicking about the requests that steadily streamed in. You can’t recharge your batteries that way, and you can’t be an effective employee when you get back to the office. It just isn’t worth it.

In my current role, the PVD is less like the bubonic plague and more like that “food baby” feeling you get from eating too much pie. It’s a little unpleasant for a while, but totally worth it! We receive the same generous allotment of vacation time here, and I just realized today that I am going to use every last hour of it this year. Even more mind-blowing than that—I don’t take my work laptop on vacation with me anymore. It’s amazing how something that weighs about 10 pounds can feel like 100 pounds when you have to lug it around on your time off. I am so grateful for the opportunity to unchain myself from that weight.

One of the things I love about this company is that we use what we sell. For example, at any time of the day, any one of my co-workers can see my “status” and know if I am working, at lunch, on vacation, or if I don’t want to be disturbed. (It’s not creepy–I promise!)  It’s very useful, but unless your company embraces a culture where that status is respected, it doesn’t do any good. The work/life balance is revered here, thankfully, and it shows in the loyalty and commitment the employees have for this company and its leadership.

I took several days off last week to go to the Grand Canyon with my husband and the two kiddos who were on Fall Break. I checked my work email three or four times while I was out, and while emails were coming in, the demands were not. The tone was that of respect for my family time and understanding that I would get to it all when I got back and had time to do it. Most email subject lines were “please don’t read this on vacation.” I am still working to catch up, but the level of understanding from my colleagues that I can’t do that in a day–or even a week–is so sweetly refreshing. Instead of spending this week in fetal position under my desk, I have spent it diligently plowing through my inbox and project list, my precious vacation memories intact, and with no regrets for daring to have a personal life. It was totally worth it.

I spent far too many years caught in the death spiral of a culture that treated me like property instead of a partner. The guilt of making your career a priority over your family when you feel like you don’t have a choice, is suffocating. Of course we love our families more than our employers. But if you love your family, you feel an obligation to support them and provide stability for them, yes?   How can you do that if you refuse to give in to the soul-sucking demands of corporate America in an effort to keep your job? Believe me—I’ve been the mom on a conference call during a field trip. I’ve created Excel spreadsheets at soccer games. I’ve stepped out of school programs to email files that “just can’t wait.” I’ve even violated the sacred ritual of date night with my feverish email-stalking, waiting for data that I “desperately needed.”

No more. My life is going to be worth it. Every minute of it. Please don’t misunderstand me—I work hard and I bring the most value that I can to my employer, with the intent to constantly increase that value. As a Christian (and frankly, as a responsible member of the human race), it’s my obligation to do that. I just want to encourage you, if you feel like you are shackled to a job where anything outside of it “just isn’t worth it”, to take that terrifying first step to make a change. It might sound silly, but when I realized that I couldn’t take any more, I forced myself to apply to three jobs a week. They weren’t even things I was necessarily interested in or qualified for, but exposure to the application and interview process really helped me get my confidence back. I didn’t think I wanted the position I ultimately took here, but after my second interview, I knew that this was exactly what God had in store for me, and I haven’t stopped thanking Him since. I checked Glass Door for EVERY company with which I interviewed, to ensure that I didn’t jump out of the frying pan of misery and into the fire of a new hell. There is a lot of truth in that website. Check it out.

This random topic was on my heart today, so thanks for sticking it out with me if it doesn’t really apply to you. If it does, and you are mired in a career that is beating you down, let me know (privately, if you wish). I would love to pray for you and keep my ear to the ground for opportunities that can help you feel like your life is worth it again—because it totally is. Go get ’em!