A Not So Delicate Balance

I emerge from the fog of late night work, a little sleep under my belt, into a world of pickups and drop offs and parenthood in general. And despite the fact that I probably look a little ghostly, I couldn't be happier. Despite the fact that I can't necessarily form coherent sentences in my conversations with fellow parents and the fact that I don't quite have the energy to play ping pong and video games with my kids, I revel in being part of the family world.
 
The balance of work and family is an ongoing challenge, not just for me, but for parents like me all over. For how many years have I gone to morning school events, sweating all the while about being late to work? For how many years have I ceded pickup duties to assorted babysitters and had to forgo midday parent events? Today, having worked in the wee morning hours and slept during school, I could be there for the rest of the day. Perhaps I was a bit unbalanced--let's face it, that idea of work/life balance is a myth, no matter what time of day you work. But when the seesaw shifts, even just a little, it feels good to be able to reach out and touch the things that might otherwise have passed you by.

A Night In The Life of a Freelancer

11:30pm--I have napped wisely. When it is time to leave home for my midnight shift, I am awake. I am ready. Ready for heading out in the dark, ready for the taxi, ready for the night.
 
12:00am--I have arrived, and while the building may seem empty, I am welcomed by people who remind me it's not. Overnight is not a solitary endeavor. It is a lifestyle that others are clearly more used to than I.
 
1:00am--Hour one has passed quickly. Perhaps the wise napping has made this workable.
 
2:00am--Hour two was not quite so quick. But hey, I'm awake and alert. Maybe I really can manage this.
 
3:00am--Three hours down, but still two till my meal break. The (at least I thought so) caffeinated tea I'm practically inhaling seems to be somewhat lacking in caffeine.
 
4:00am--I must have blinked, because somehow, it became 4. Well, not really, but considering how long 3 took, 4 felt positively speedy.
 
5:00am--Meal break. As it doesn't really feel like breakfast time (though at home, I'd be rising and breakfasting right about now), I have a frozen Indian food dinner instead--a little protein, a little eye-opening spice. Perhaps I really am embracing this middle of the night thing (though a little drift off during the break reminds me otherwise). Even an hour "at lunch" is a long hour at this hour.
 
6:00am--Back from "lunch" and back to work, and what was 8 hours stretching out before me is now only 2. And anybody can do 2, right?
 
7:00am--The last hour has been full of deadlines, so has flown past. Just one hour left. One look in the ladies' room mirror reminds me my body is not used to this yet.
 
8:00am--Done, and headed home. The caffeine from the tea is finally kicking in (or is it just the fact that it is now light out?) I have made it, at least for one night.
 
Just a night in the life of a freelancer...

Big City, Small Town

I found myself at a quintessential New York City event, one that I attended on my own over twenty years ago and that I attend these days with my kids. Along the way, in the crowds of strangers (because that's how quintessential New York City events are), I encountered people from assorted parts of my life here. Despite being a very large place, New York can feel oddly small sometimes.
 
When I attended the event all those years ago, it was with the thought that I wouldn't be in the city long, so I'd better make the most of it. Now, over twenty years later, still here, it is just one of a number of things that make the city home. It is seeing someone you know just about everywhere. It is deciding to go somewhere and simply hopping a bus or the ankle express to get there. It is feeling a part of something, even when you are just part of a crowd. It is not having to look far to find creativity and art and performance. It is being able to share a twenty-something year old memory with people who are making new memories of their own.
 
I can't say if I will be a New Yorker forever, but today, it felt a lot like my very big, very small town.

Night or Day

I walked into my building after a late night of work, and the doorman who has been working nights in my building for more years than I've lived here, whom for years I barely saw, smiled as he opened the door for me. A few weeks ago, when he first saw me arriving home late, the smile was a confused one, and I explained that it was a new job with new hours I'd have to get used to. These days, the smile is a "welcome home, get yourself to sleep" one, and it is one of the best things I see after a late day.

While late night work is new to me, it is clearly not new to him. Overnight has been his shift for years, and I suppose his life is structured around it. He could easily just see my late hours as what people do. But his response, his smile as I'm walking in, reminds me that it's okay for me to be "just getting used to." And the friendly face reminds me that no matter what time you work, you can still come home to the rest of your life. Whether it's night or day.

I Guess I Can

I didn't think I could possibly go through our morning routine after a late night of work and before a return to work. But I had to, so I guess I can.

I didn't think I could make all the appointments and make all the phone calls and make all the lunches. But I had to, so I guess I can.

I didn't think I could cover all the bases, make at least some hits, and field balls from every direction. But I had to, so I guess I can.

I didn't think I could handle new schedules and new tasks and new expectations. But I had to, so I guess I can.

I didn't think I could manage parenting new ages, understanding new grades, navigating new schools. But I had to, so I guess I can.

Every day, we are called upon to face the new, the different, the challenging, the scary. Sometimes, it's too much. But more often than not, we make it work. So I guess we can.

Stepping Back

We are so conditioned to jump in, to forge ahead, to take a leap. But what happens when, by choice or by chance, we step back instead?
 
When we step back, we can sometimes see things a little more clearly.
 
When we step back, we sometimes allow our children to be the heroes that they can be.
 
When we step back, we stop trying to take responsibility for all the mistakes, whether they are ours or other people's.
 
When we step back, we have more room to breathe, more room to stretch, more room to grow.
 
When we step back, we can begin to forgive ourselves for what we can't control.
 
When we step back, sometimes we regain the energy to step forward next time.
 
When we step back, we may be going against everything we were ever taught. But perhaps we're learning something in the process...

Faster

Sometimes, I would like things to happen right away--job progress, the effects of exercise, kids following instructions. Most of the time, things take longer than that. Job progress takes patience and working and networking. Seeing the effects of exercise takes days and weeks. And kids following instructions...
 
Today, as I fasted for Yom Kippur, trying not to count the minutes until I could eat again, I thought a bit about time--about how we want it to go faster, only to find that we have missed things along the way. If we see and feel the effects of exercise too soon, will we keep doing that exercise? If work progress comes too quickly, is it the right kind of progress? Do we rush our children through life, only to find that we have missed the high points in all our hurrying?
 
I was certainly not sorry when I could eat again tonight. Another fast is done, Yom Kippur is over for another year. I just wonder what I've learned. I may be a reasonably good faster, but have I learned when it's important to slow down? I may have learned how to "check the boxes," but have I learned which "boxes" really matter?
 
Perhaps "faster" only really matters if it helps us take things a little slower...