You Want It All, But You Can't Have It
Parenting. Work. Travel. Success. Impossible?
It’s 11:00 pm and I’m still sitting on my son’s bed from when I put him to bed. I’m in the dark, the only sound his sweet, even breath and the keys clacking. Piled next to me, over part of the laptop keypad, and on top of his stuffed animals are all the kids’ various school schedules for the rest of the year. Four kids. Three schools. Different breaks. Different holidays observed.
I keep flipping from one to the other, checking my calendar, hand-writing notes as if that will help. Wait, who will be where, when!?
I spent hours over the “break” trying to finalize the kids’ summer plans. I’m lucky to be able to send them to camp or on wonderful summer programs but there are so many options with various dates and requirements. Forget about the forms. This coming summer, somehow my kids will be ages 9 to 17. Insane. The programs vary widely, to say the least. But the real question is: how did they get to be this old?!
On top of all the kids’ stuff plus juggling the custody schedule, I’ve added 45 events to my own plate with the Zibby-verse tour. What was I thinking?! Okay, yes, I’m very excited about it. I’ve always wanted to visit all these bookstores and venues across the country. I’ve always wanted to get a novel published since I was about eight years old. I’ve wanted to take my podcast Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books on the road. Plus I get to be in conversation with 50+ amazing authors. So, yay.
But what if I can’t pull this off?
I keep telling myself that this whole tour is no different than if I had a job that required a ton of regular travel. Some parents do this every week, flying to and from Cincinnati and Minneapolis like it’s the crosstown bus. I think of all those consultants I went to business school with and how they’ve been doing this for 20 years now. What, I’m worried about a couple months? Please.
And yet, I’m embarking on a period of time in my life that deviates from my typical mandate of spending as much time with the kids as possible. I stayed home with the kids for 11 years before starting this whole phase of life. 11 years! Even now, I leave work every day at 2:45 pm to pick them up at school, resuming after they start their after-school activities, or maybe after they go to bed. I often work late into the night to get it all done. Like so, so many of us.
Now I’m asking myself: Is it okay to miss a few pick-ups in March through May as I travel for the tour? (I would tell a friend: of course!) What are the true costs of our career decisions? Am I being a bad mom if I get home after they go to bed or am I modeling professional achievement? When do we get the report card for our parenting? How and when do we know if we did it right?
I don’t know. But I know I have to pack up these papers and get some sleep. Podcast recordings resume in the morning. I’m going on “Good Day, DC” at 9:40 am and have to remember which books I’ll be talking about. I love what I do. And I’m so excited.
I mean, I’ve had so many novels rejected and have cried buckets of tears on the bathroom floor feeling like I would never, ever be able to do it. That no matter how badly I wanted it, getting a book published might never happen for me. That my life goals wouldn’t be achieved.
And now, it’s happening. Blank! Finally! At age 47. Decades after my first round of submissions went out. I want to stand on a table, my arms raised over my head, and dance to “Little Boo Thing” in excitement. (Please don’t visualize that.) But I also want to be there at dinner every night with the little kids and at pick-up and at bedtime and….
I want it all.
It’s like that song (just Googled — “Epic” by Faith No More): “You want it all but you can’t have it…. It’s in your face but you can’t grab it.” Actually I’m reading these lyrics right now and oh my lord. I don’t think this song is what I thought it was about. Yikes.
But anyway.
I could use some advice on work travel and parenting. On balancing career and kids. Ambition and consistency. Before I know it, all four of them will be out of the house. I can feel it coming like a storm brewing that meteorologists keep reporting and I keep ignoring. It’s coming. And soon. I need some snow boots. I know! But today it’s beautiful so why stop to think about it?
Really, I just want to hug my kids close and hold onto vacation for a few more days. My heart felt like it had won the slot machine jackpot every time I could see all four of them together, even walking down the street. Ding! Ding, ding! My soul would light up. Now it’s all just hurtling forward so quickly that I can’t catch my breath. Did vacation really have to end? I miss the “me” who is relaxed around them, not distracted and stressed.
Yes, there’s a cost. To all of it.
But I’m just trying to do my best. I hope the kids know that. Even if I’m not home before bedtime occasionally. And yes, I know many parents don’t even get to be home for their kids and I’m extremely lucky. I know. I promise. I get it.
But still. It feels hard. Doesn’t it?
Wise words welcome.
Years ago, I read an interview with James Taylor. Now, there are things in James Taylor's life I don't admire, but he is a wonderful artist who cleaned up his life and established good relationships with his children. He once said something profound to one of his children who complained about his travel schedule. He said, "Dad loves his work." That meant so much to me. I was able then to explain to my own children that I would never ever leave my best beloveds except for something very important, something that mattered so much I would be miserable without it. In my case, it's my writing. And thereby, I gave them permission to grow up and do something they love, even if it means occasionally having to disappoint people they love even more. I gave them permission to leave me, when it's time, with the understanding that it's never forever.
As a mother of three children, now adults with families of their own, I too sweated out my publishing career while trying to micromanage their young lives. And here is what I know for sure. If I had spent as much time enjoying them as I did worrying about them we all would have been better off. If I had understood that they were proud of me instead of thinking they hated me for leaving on a book tour, my eczema would have eased. If I had appreciated the independent streaks they were developing instead of criticizing their methods they would have enjoyed greater self esteem. And mostly if I had not woken up every day on a guilt trip I would have experienced the euphoria I felt but feared would make me look selfish. So take my word. They will be fine. You will be fine. And one day perhaps you too will be reading to a precious grandchild when their mom or dad says with pride, “Did you know Gigi writes books? Only hers are way better.”