School holidays have begun. The time of year when working parents scramble madly to cobble together sufficient care arrangements and fun! holiday! activities! to fill the working week.
Bill graduated from ‘Novice Dad’ this week when he passed the moderate-to-high level challenge of having someone else’s child with his own two children at home for the entire day, alone. He did well. Children and house surviving nicely, and he, looking remarkably calm. (I know, I know, probably only a moderate level challenge for a primary care-giver, but still). My friend was stuck. A sudden closure of her school’s vacation care program and she is fully booked with patients while it seems every other doctor in town has gone on leave. She is screwed.
Patched together care arrangements left me with a little gap myself one afternoon this week and I ended up with Cormac at work with me in the Beige Wonderland. I don’t generally think much about my work and its contribution to the household except for the pure practicalities of when is that bill due and how close is that to my next pay-day. But on this occasion I had this little Mary Tyler Moore moment of self-satisfaction when I was click-clacking my way out of the building in my heels with Cormac on my hip. Like the feeling I can get from breastfeeding, the pride of providing, I was all ‘look at me kids, look at me bringing home the (vegetarian) bacon, and frying it up too’.
Hmm, I recognise that as the feeling of “see! I can do it all!” Enjoy it while it lasts đŸ™‚
I don’t think it is the feeling of trying to grasp some unsustainable ‘super woman’ thing, though I get sucked in from time to time with that, too.
My income represents almost half of the household income and I have never left work except for a year’s maternity leave with each child, so my feeling of attachment to the workplace is great. I think having my child with me at work meant for a moment not having work and home so compartmentalised and I just had this recognition that my work provides an income for this little family. I had the pride that I see fathers get when their kids come into work – I don’t know exactly why I don’t see this same self-satisfaction on mothers when their children come in to visit. It was weird and lovely though. Put me in the loveliest mood.
[…] This post was mentioned on Twitter by blue milk, Bacon. Bacon said: New post https://bluemilk.wordpress.com/2010/12/16/bringing-home-the-bacon/ http://bit.ly/hp8ban […]