2-Hour-Mom + sick kid

The plus side of having a sick kid is that you are forced to have more than 2 hours a day with him. They aren't the best hours you could ever have, but they must count as quality time together!

My daycare was closed today for a teacher in-service day, so I had to call my office's "back-up care" to come stay with the kiddo. Cute little college girl, very sweet. She called me at about 12:15 and said that the kiddo had started wearing down a bit and saying his head hurt. She found a themometer and lo-and-behold: 101.4. She is not allowed to dispense medicine, so I had to come home.

True kid sickness is easy for a working mom. A sick 3yo means you dose him with drugs and put him to bed. He sleeps for 3 hours, then is lazy for a couple hours, then goes to bed for the night.

The next day, is the hard day for a working mom: He's FINE. No fever. No sluggishness. But isn't allowed to go to daycare because of the 24-hour-fever-free rule. But he's not sick. Therefore, you can't do conference calls, you can't get work done becuase he wants to play! engage! learn! build a fort! THIS is where the working mom runs into a problem and the guilt kicks in.

Luckily for me, the cute little back-up care nanny is going to come back tomorrow to help me out, but I still feel so guilty about it!

Out For a Swim in the Sea of Responsibility

As I am drowning in stress I find myself wondering how I ended up with all of the parenting responsibilities. I am bipolar and require more sleep than most people and yet I am the one waking up twice a night to feed our 4 month old and the one waking up to get both kids ready, bottles made, teeth brushed, gear packed, and driving them to daycare before 9. My job comes with deadlines and launch calendars but I'm on full-time mommy duty when one of the kids gets sick (which is ALL the time this winter). And at the end of the day when the stress is piled the highest, when I am rushing to get to a stopping point, when 3:30 turns to 6 within a blink of an eye, that's when I get a gentle nudge "You're still here?". Then there's dinner to plan which has been fast and frozen food for as long as I can remember. As soon as I sit down the youngest is hungry or the oldest is finished and wants more. It is a rare evening I get to eat a hot meal. No time to rest because then it's bath, brush, and story time. After all is said and done I have accomplished little and slept less. Do I go straight to bed? What about "me" time? All day I've been a business owner, a programmer, and a mommy, when do I squeeze in being a wife?

I usually get the advice to "ask for help". Tell me, when you ask for help from someone does it ever actually help? In my case I get a "I guess" response which means he is willing to help but he isn't happy about it. Then, I spend the remainder of the time feeling guilt which isn't helpful at all. Just once I would like a little help without having to ask for it.

I know one day my husband will come across this blog and he will like 1) be angry that I am sharing this with the world and 2) be a little mystified why I didn't communicate this with him first. A few months ago when my youngest was born he would wake up after my morning feeding and watch both of them while I slept another 3 hours. I can't tell you how much rest you can get when you know both of your children are being taken care of and you don't have to watch the baby monitor or wonder when your oldest is going to come wake you up. I got more sleep in those 3 hours then any other time. I miss that. I miss the peace of mind. I miss the help. I need a life line.

A 2-Hour-Mom in Vegas

Two weeks ago I took a 6 day trip to Las Vegas on business. 6 days where my 3-year-old was left alone with his father. An awesome father, mind you, but a father. Which meant that I still had to do kid laundry before I left, lay out what lunches would be for the week, and make a list of breakfast and dinner foods the child would eat. And the very second that I returned, I was handed the child and told that I should consider myself lucky that they hadn't both gone feral. So 6 straight days of working sometimes 14-hour days, and I come home to a husband and kid who love me, but don't allow me any chance to recuperate!

The one fabulous thing about that trip was that, even though I still went to bed too late and had to get up too early, there was no chance of being awakened in the middle of the night with the sweet-but-still-middle-of-the-night sound of "Mommy!" coming from the other room.

So I got home at just about midnight on Thursday night, got up at 6:30 Friday morning to get the kid ready, make his lunch, and get him to daycare (thankfully, hubby took him to school)... and I must admit I went back to bed. And didn't wake up until 2pm!

Ah, working mother.