I love my job. I love my job more than most people love their hobbies. I have absolutely found my niche in life. The only thing I love more than my job is my family and being a mommy to my sweet little boy. In theory, combining these two parts of my life should be heaven on Earth, right?
Working outside of the home is hard,
working within the home is often harder. But for me personally, the
hardest days are the ones when I combine both of these endeavors.
The days when I decide that I really want to play hell and really
half ass both of the things that I love the most in life. While
always the result of an either ill or otherwise occupied grandmother,
I never take babysitterless days and choose the more logical decision
of just canceling my sessions for the day. Instead, I always decide
that a take your baby to work day is more appropriate for
whatever reason. Actually, the reason is a paycheck and the fact
that if I cancel, my client's are set back about three weeks for the
next available appointment. These days are few and far between and I
absolutely cherish the fact that I have a wonderful boss who will
allow this practice. But that being said, it is a long freaking day!
Don't get me wrong, I adore the days
that I get to have my little intern by my side. But heaven... That
may be a stretch. The fact is, babies are unpredictable and even
though I have been blessed with a very, very good baby, he is like
Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. He will not be ignored.
On paper, the idea looks great. I keep
my schedule as it always is, except that my pumping breaks become
nursing breaks and time for Archer and I to just relax a little and
play in between sessions. When I know that my son will be in tow, I
always contact my clients in the morning to let them know. That way
they can choose to reschedule if they like. I also cancel any intake
appointments that I have scheduled, due to not wanting a new client's
first impression of me to be me sitting on the floor changing a poopy
diaper. In addition, I cancel any clients who may be bothered by
having a baby present, like clients who have lost children and any
EMDR sessions that I had scheduled due to the nature of that
particular technique. To this day, when I learn that I am without a
babysitter I get an equal mix of excitement at the prospect of having
my little guy with me all day and terror at the prospect of having my
little guy with me all day. It is the proverbial mixed bag.
In the early days before Archer was
mobile, I used come to work equipped with a super plush blanket and
some toys to lay out on the floor of my office for our off hours to
relax. Now that my boy is rarely satisfied to sit in one place for
too long, the Pack n Play has become my favorite coworker. On nice
days when we get a break, we get out the stroller and walk around
downtown for some fresh air and a break from the same four walls.
Last time we made an exciting trip to CVS for more tissues and made a
stop across the street to my dentist's office to schedule a cleaning.
I thank God that Archer is still too young to realize how lame these
outings are. I must admit though, for me, I will shamelessly take
any chance to show off my little guy. I glow walking down the street
with him.
I have had situations, like when my
sister was having her second baby when I knew that Archer would be
coming to work with me ahead of time. This is not always the case,
however. On most occasions I discover that I am going to have an
intern when I am just about to walk out of the house. One hundred
percent, knowing ahead of time is better.
Work attire is a big consideration on
days when Archer accompanies me to work. No earrings or other
jewelry will survive the day, nor will skirts or tops with flimsy
necklines. Archer is now old enough to have a general idea of where
I keep my boobies and he isn't shy about asking for them and by
asking I really mean pawing relentlessly at my shirt. On the
flip side, I do need to have access to them to feed him in between
sessions, so that is another consideration when getting ready.
I remember the first time I began
planning for a day at the office with my son. “Ooooo! I won't
have to carry my breast pump that day!” I thought with excitement.
Yeah, while there is no need for my breast pump when Archer is with
me, instead I get to carry about four times as much crap and on top
of that stuff, a wiggly human. Quickly I longed for my sleek little
breast pump bag again.
I have learned a few lessons over my
time bringing my son to work. One tip that I can offer to other
mothers considering this option, is to take a change of clothes.
Obviously for the baby, but for you as well. It's an easy tip to
blow off. It's a huge pain in the ass to pack additional clothes to
carry. But you will thank me.
On the first day that I brought Archer
to work with me I was sitting in a session with a young guy in his
twenties who had no experience with babies at all. We were
discussing his recent losses, which were significant and had led to
the symptoms that resulted in him seeking treatment. With the very
serious tone of the session, I was proud that Archer was sitting
quietly on my lap, playing with a cardboard book. I watched as my
client's eyes began to tear up discussing the death of a close
friend. His pain was palpable in the room. I held my breath as my
heart just broke for him. And then, with timing precise enough to
work for NASA, my son let loose an epic toot that sounded like it
could have come from a grown man and this was not a quick toot. This
thing lingered. It just went on and on and on. My client was very
kind and only laughed politely before continuing with his narrative.
I was mortified, but regrouped. Hoping that that was the worst of
it. A few minutes later the smell wafted up to my nostrils and I
took a quick glance down at my love, still playing quietly on my lap.
My eyes grew wide with horror as I saw it. The enormous, yellow
seeping ring of poop that covered my son's back and the entire front
of my own white tunic. My poor client sat talking and I didn't have
the heart or the nerve to interrupt him. Nor did I even know what
the hell to do. So there we sat, my poop monster and me, wallowing
in the feces explosion that would mark his first official work day.
When my client rose to leave that day, I held Archer in front of the
spot on my shirt and escorted him out, telling my next client that I
needed just a minute before bringing them back. I finished my
workday in a tank top that still smelled of poo while my tunic sat
soaking in the bathroom sink. If you take nothing else away from
this post please remember this: Bring extra clothes for baby and
mommy... Always. If nothing else, at least don't wear white.
That was the worst of our incidents,
however. Usually it is just a bit of an oddity having an infant in
therapy sessions. I try to make eye contact and look professional as
best as I can as a small human is jumping wildly on my lap, twirling,
talking and blowing raspberries in my face. Archer is well into his
hair pulling stage. It is a bit of a challenge to focus and convey
concern while a little man is pulling on a huge chunk of your hair
with all of his might. My son is a huge flirt. It's the Italian in
him. He tends to sit and just smile at the ladies in my office. He
charms them all with the twinkle in his eye. I write my notes during
his naps and send faxes and make copies like I do everything else in
my mommy life... With one hand.
My clients have all been incredibly
patient and welcoming even when my son, just discovering is voice box
went through a phase where he would smile brightly and scream at the
very top of his lungs for no reason. I have conducted numerous
sessions while standing when Archer prefers it and even had one
session where a very sweet client who has raised two kids of his own
offered to bounce my son while standing just for nostalgia’s sake.
Archer adored him. I considered just paying him to stick around with
me all day and console my child.
On days when I sit at my office and he
isn't here I long for the exhausting days when he is, when I only
have to look as far as my lap to see my little buddy, working right
alongside me. My copilot navigating my day with me.
To say that it is exhausting is like
saying that raw cookie dough is “good.” It isn't good. It is
like kissing the feet of God himself. I'm not exhausted after a day
at work with my son. I am a mere shell of the woman I once was. I
am a scattered, mentally blank, physically disheveled walking zombie.
I practically forget my own name. I often wonder how long I will be
able to continue bringing Archer to work with me. I usually say that
it will need to stop when he starts talking well and repeating, but a
few days ago I had a mother bring a twenty-one month old in during
her session. After that hour I am sure that I will stop before
twenty-one months...
I feel very fortunate though, to be a
mother at this time in history. We as women have so many options.
We can work within the home, work outside of the home or any
combination of both or neither. While none of these choices are easy
they are still choices and that is such a blessing in and of itself.
As women we really do have the option of having everything. The hard
part is just deciding what “everything” is going to look like for
you. For me it often looks like a yellow ring of poop on my crisp,
white tunic soaking in my work bathroom. And I love that.
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