You guys,
George prefers his Papa to his Mama.
For 20 minutes I listened to Sam attempt to soothe our screaming son as four nurses pinned him down and force fed him barium, a substance that coats his insides for an X-ray.
Meanwhile, I paced back and forth in the sterile hallway of the radiology clinic, unable to go in because I’m pregnant. When they finally opened the door and I grabbed George in my arms, he immediately erupted back into tears and reached for Sam.
I’m not gonna lie. It stung.
I tried to laugh it off but deep down I worried my priorities have been off. For six weeks I was consumed with my roles as high school field hockey coach and lead mentor for Write of Passage. And for six weeks I didn’t spend much time with Sam and George.
When I got pregnant Sam and I talked about our responsibilities as parents. We would both be around but most of the caretaking would fall on me because Sam worked full time. And we would save money because we wouldn’t need daycare or a nanny.
Things changed.
After I took Write of Passage I became way more ambitious and clear about my path forward. Suddenly it felt like a 50/50 split with parenting responsibilities and full-time nanny help.
Not only that, but Sam and I felt disconnected. Nights used to be ours. A time to cook a meal together, share a bottle of wine, unwind, watch a movie, rub each other’s feet, and talk. Then nights became the only time we had to get shit done. Sam retreated to his office. I retreated to the library. And when we finished, we tiredly made our way to bed.
I missed him. And George. But I was also invigorated by the work I was doing on the field and for the writing course. It felt impossible to be a great partner and Mama while at the same time be a great mentor and coach. I struggled with the balance.
But Write of Passage ended last week. Field hockey season ends today (unless there’s a Christmas miracle and we win our playoff game against the No.1 seed). The full-time nanny’s last day is this Friday.
Partner, parent, mentor, coach: all are pieces that together make me whole. I need all of them to thrive and grow.
Maybe the balance is never constant. Maybe there’s just a constant shift in priorities, where some take precedence over the others, for a short amount of time, with the promise that they’ll rise back to the top, eventually.
Essay of the Week
My son has his scary scope procedure tomorrow morning where they’ll put him under for 20 minutes and look at his throat.
I wrote about the shift in perspective I had this week around my approach to parenting.
Clark Griswold Update
Two men from the company who hangs Christmas lights came to our house to give us a quote.
I was giddy about the possibilities. The roof line, the two palm trees on either side of our house, the three columns by our front door, and a big wreath with a red bow on our front window.
We told the gentlemen everything we wanted and said we wanted to stay as close to the $500 minimum as possible. So if nothing else, we could at least do the roof line because there was no way we were getting up there.
They told us no problem, plugged in some numbers on their iPad and showed us the screen: $1,815.
We thanked them, said our goodbyes and walked in the house, invigorated with a new sense of determination that we can totally hang our own Christmas lights.
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Until next week,
Charlie