These questions journalists like asking women who do or identify as other things together with being mother, ‘How do you do it? How do you balance your time? Do you get time for yourself?’ It is a trick question I suppose.
Before Kiddo, I never gave such questions much thought. They were like that solidarity forever song that has to be sang during strikes or a severely folded hundred bob note that matatu crew surreptitiously drop during an encounter with the boys in blue to get them off their back for several squads; a mandatory prop. Now I know taking care of a little human is a two hands full job for anyone. If you can do that well and still excel in your career or whatever else you are into, you must have figured the meaning of life. I haven’t.
I am tormented by finding balance. I love Kiddo. She is everything. Yet I have to put food on the table and a roof over our heads and because she deserves the best, I want to give her the world. However, that means time, a lot of time away from her. That is neither good for me or for her. It is true; we buy everything not with money but with our time. As a parent the opportunity cost of doing everything becomes a ledger I am constantly struggling to balance. So I find myself see sawing; leaving for a project that consumes me then feeling guilty when it’s done and I realize I have been away for too long. That she misses me. That I miss her terribly and stay home as my work suffers… and that’s just two facets of my life.
Figuring this mumhood thing out will take some time it seems. Meanwhile, here is how I am faring. Am I scared? Yes. With parenting, you do not know you are doing the job right until the little person becomes a big person. Am I swamped? Yes. If it were up to me (and I suspect most mothers), a day would have 30 hours. Am I happy? Curiously Yes. Even with the hectic schedules and fraction of required sleep, I am happy and a much better, wiser person for this phase of life.
Before Kiddo, I never gave such questions much thought. They were like that solidarity forever song that has to be sang during strikes or a severely folded hundred bob note that matatu crew surreptitiously drop during an encounter with the boys in blue to get them off their back for several squads; a mandatory prop. Now I know taking care of a little human is a two hands full job for anyone. If you can do that well and still excel in your career or whatever else you are into, you must have figured the meaning of life. I haven’t.
I am tormented by finding balance. I love Kiddo. She is everything. Yet I have to put food on the table and a roof over our heads and because she deserves the best, I want to give her the world. However, that means time, a lot of time away from her. That is neither good for me or for her. It is true; we buy everything not with money but with our time. As a parent the opportunity cost of doing everything becomes a ledger I am constantly struggling to balance. So I find myself see sawing; leaving for a project that consumes me then feeling guilty when it’s done and I realize I have been away for too long. That she misses me. That I miss her terribly and stay home as my work suffers… and that’s just two facets of my life.
Figuring this mumhood thing out will take some time it seems. Meanwhile, here is how I am faring. Am I scared? Yes. With parenting, you do not know you are doing the job right until the little person becomes a big person. Am I swamped? Yes. If it were up to me (and I suspect most mothers), a day would have 30 hours. Am I happy? Curiously Yes. Even with the hectic schedules and fraction of required sleep, I am happy and a much better, wiser person for this phase of life.