Snips and Snails and Puppydog Tails

I’ve been working on this post for a long time: mulling it over in my mind, trying to decide whether to be pithy and clever in it, or just brutally honest…I’ve really had a hard time putting it together because, well, the subject is hard. I’ve been back at work now for nearly a month, which just floors me. And you know what? I hate it. (I decided on brutally honest, by the way.) Going back to work has been so much harder than I ever thought it would be. I knew it wouldn’t be easy – I remember tearing up just shopping daycares. Now, Sam’s at a good daycare that’s just about a mile and half from the house. (We did debate a downtown daycare center, but ultimately I decided I didn’t want Sam having to make my commute every day.)  However, no matter how good the daycare, no matter how loving and sweet the teachers, no matter how cute the other babies there are, it’s still someone else taking care of my son for the majority of the day. Someone else getting his smiles, his coos and his cuddles, even his cries and screams for 9 1/2 or 10 hours each day.

You know something else? It’s EXHAUSTING. Mommyhood in general is an exhausting experience, and then add to that a job outside the home that also expects and demands your full attention for a minimum of 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. By the end of the week, I’m a zombie – a grumpy one. (Disclaimer – PLEASE don’t misinterpret this to mean that I think working mommies have it harder than stay-at-home mommies. I know that being a stay at home mommy is NOT easy; it is a full-time job that you never get to “go home” from.) I’m up no later than 6:30 in the morning (5:30 or 6 am is better, but the later in the week it is, the later I seem to get up) and in the office (if I’m lucky) by 9 am.

What takes so long to get out the door, you might wonder? Well, here’s my typical morning routine: shower, feed Sam (reverse those depending on when he wakes up), change diaper (Sam’s, not mine), soothe fussy baby, do makeup and hair (if there’s time – these steps are often skipped; my apologies to my coworkers), get half dressed, soothe baby again, put lunch – made the night before – in lunch bag, bottles in cooler bag, pack up breast pump, take load one–typically work bag, diaper bag (also packed the night before), pump, purse–to car, wipe up spitup/soothe baby, get Sam dressed, get me rest of the way dressed, load Sam into carrier, soothe Sam (he’s not a fan of loading up), grab lunch bag and bottle bag and Sam in carrier and take load two to car. Finally, typically no earlier than 8:18, we’re cranking the car and backing out of the driveway to head to daycare. Then it’s drop-off madness (coordinating feeding times, bottles, any supplies that had to be restocked, final kisses goodbye and snuggles for the day) and finally, by 8:30 (hopefully) on the way to the office. Yes, it takes me two trips to load the car; I’m a veritable pack horse during the week–on the plus side, my arms are beginning to tone up nicely.

Once at work, there’s the ordeal of unloading everything–remember I only dropped off the diaper bag and bottle cooler bag at daycare with Sam–and attempting to get some work done before I need to go pump at 10. Sam’s on just breast milk right now, so I’m currently pumping 2-3 times a day during the work week. I work in cube-ville, remember. Thankfully, my work provides a private office, with a locking door, for me to pump. However, it’s on a different floor at the opposite end of the building from my office. So, even though I only pump 15-20 minutes at a time, add another 10-15 minutes to get to the pumping room, set up and then “tear down” and clean up pump stuff after pumping. Roughly half an hour or more away from my desk, up to 3 times a day. Needless to say, I feel less than productive–though I have discovered hands-free pumping in the last couple days, and I think that will help immensely. At the end of the day (8 hours; I typically leave between 5:15 and 5:30, if we’re not under the gun to get a book out), it’s time to load everything back up, get to the car, and get up to daycare to get Sam. Two more trips to get everything inside once I’ve got my angel with me, and we can start the evening chaos.

So, that’s a taste of the physical difficulties–the literal baggage–of going  back to work…since this post is already three years long, I’ll save the emotional baggage for another post.