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31 Killing the bugs. Or, so I quit my job last week…

My husband kills the cockroaches that occasionally turn up in our bathtub. I squeal and shriek and leap up on tall things and then run from the room. (I feel compelled to point out that I normally have a strict catch-and-release policy re: bugs, that I still haven’t poisoned the ants in the kitchen, and that my two-year-old son hugs worms… But these things are huge and fast and goddamn it they’re in my bathtub.)

For the last year and a half, I have been working part time, from home, for the same company I have been with for five years or so. When I originally proposed the work-at-home plan, I was envisioning a future where I would work serenely on the computer for a few hours a day while the baby entertained himself with a small collection of well chosen, tasteful, educational toys. What actually happened was a perpetually nearly-out-of control juggling act involving my work schedule, Ralph’s work schedule, a string of baby sitters, the kindness of friends, a lot of take-out food, and a nearby (lack of) co-operative nursery school.

I work from 9am-noon Monday to Friday, and one extra hour in the evening, for a total of four hours a day. I also do all of the grocery shopping, and almost all of the meal preparation, laundry, general cleaning and tidying. I keep the constant looming mountain of clutter (barely) under control. I keep up with the sitter’s schedule and manage the childcare. I sit on the board of the co-op. I care for a toddler.

Often I could stay on top of one thing or another while letting everything else would go off the rails. When I was too tired to cook, or had been unable to do the grocery shopping, we would order in. I do not clean the bathroom, and I stopped doing recycling and garbage several months ago. But, still, there’s a lot on my plate.

As the co-op became more and more of a political nightmare, I started having bouts of insomnia. Every monthly board meeting would leave me unable to sleep, nauseous and tense, both in the days leading up to the meeting and the days afterwards.

I’m still nursing the baby at night, so I am woken up at least once and usually more frequently every night. In over two years, I have not had eight uninterupted hours of sleep. Ralph has suggested many times that I night-wean the baby, and offered to support me in any way during that process. While I agree that this is a good idea, committing to night weaning would mean committing to at least a few nights (four or five? more? less? who knows…) of being up all night negotiating with a pissed off, sobbing toddler. When I am already tired, and I already feel like I am barely keeping everything under control, that just sounded too horrible and awful to contemplate. I already freak the hell out if he is teething or sick and I have to stay up all night with him…

The last few months have been very, very hard. There has been some fighting. I have felt some despair. I have felt like I am in way over my head. I have had some escape fantasies.
And then some things happened. At the end of June, the nursery school closes for the summer. So, we had to start thinking about alternatives. And then Ralph got a big fat promotion. And then a friend lent me a terrible little book extolling the virtues of traditional stay-at-home mothering (written by a woman with a nanny and a cook, I believe). And then we took a look at our bills, and realized that with a few adjustments, and without having to pay for child care and take out food, I could afford to quite my job.

And then my husband volunteered to handle all further board meetings.

Once the decision was made, I went over the books two and three more times, and came up with a budget. The last thing to do was to actually quit, which was really hard and took me weeks to work myself up to, but now that is done too. My last day will be June 23rd, the day before my birthday. I like that.

So, in four weeks I will have one thing on my plate - running this house and family like a well oiled MACHINE. I have very mixed feelings about this. I am excited and happy. I think it is a good decision. I am very lucky. I am very grateful. I think it’s good for the entire team.

But I feel like a bit of a failure. I often think, damn it, millions of women manage to do run a home and raise children and work, and I had a pretty sweet set-up with that work-at-home gig. But, you know what, a lot of those women are pretty angry. And a lot of families break up over this stuff.

It’s a bit disconcerting to live off my husband’s salary. And to have him go to meetings in my place. I’m all for pulling together and working together, but all the stress-reducing changes in my life right now depend on my husband.

This weekend we had a bit of a scrap, and during the course of the scrap I was told that the way I handle stress is a (the?) problem. He also mentioned that he could have easily handled the stress I am under, because he is much better at handling stress.

I’ve been thinking that over a lot.

I already feel a lot a better, and have already been much happier, simply after we made the decision to go ahead with this plan. And yet nothing has even changed, really. Ralph has gone to one board meeting (thank god, it sounded totally evil). That’s it. I’m still working four or more hours a day, cooking, shopping for groceries, doing laundry, managing the sitters, planning two motherfucking fundraising events, caring for the baby, getting up two and three times a night, waking up at five and six am…

How does he know whether he would have handled it better? He hasn’t had to do what I have done.

I don’t have to do what he does, either. And I am tremendously grateful for what he does. I tell him so. But I don’t tell him that I could have done what he does, and that I could do it better.

I was already feeling a little awkward because it’s his salary (and my savings, and our mortgage…) that is going to allow me to switch gears. And if I had had to go to the last few meetings before we are out of this co-op, I don’t know what I would have done, so I am grateful that he has taken that on. More than grateful. I literally couldn’t have done it. Or, if I had, I would have made myself physically ill.

But to be told that I have to change how I handle stress, when I am under the most stress I have ever been in my life… Seems a little harsh. I am trying. I make mistakes, though.

Is it worth it? To keep talking and talking and longing and trying to explain how I feel? It doesn’t seem like it. Things are bad, but they were worse, and they’re going to get better, and I guess that’s enough. Let’s just move on.

May 30, 2006 | In Uncategorized | Comments Off

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31 Killing the bugs. Or, so I quit my job last week…

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