I had what could only be classified as a small nervous breakdown the other day. I’m a working girl now, and it’s taking up a ton of my time. The last time I did this was during the Obama campaign, when every waking moment was devoted to volunteering. So now I’m back to waking up, working, getting kids to school, working, putting in a load of laundry, working, going to the store, working, picking up the kids, working, figuring out when we should go to Disneyland, working. . . It’s like being a hamster on a wheel, only there are about five different wheels to jump between.
Elfie restarted ballet class yesterday, and I discovered the night before (thank the lord) that she’d outgrown her shoes. So the next morning, in between everything else, I ran over to the dance store and bought new shoes (and tights and leotard and tutu because I’m a sucker). This was a day of minutes, when things were timed out precisely for showering, putting on grown-up clothes, and driving somewhere before it closed. That was until I got home and pulled the ballet stuff out of the bag. And there weren’t any shoes!
That’s right. According to the store owner, they “fell out” of my bag. I’m still slightly shocked by how calm I remained during this entire incident. The fact that I didn’t go completely postal on this lady is stunning. Maybe it’s because she was close to 90-years-old. Maybe I was channeling Ghandi. Maybe I’m finally on all the right drugs. Who knows. All I do know is that I rushed back to the store, in heels, and got the shoes from the 90-year-old who didn’t recognize me because now I actually had make-up on and my hair done (how depressing is that?).
I spent the rest of the afternoon, wrestling with the idea of whether or not I should be working. The kids are in kindergarten and first grade. When I was in first grade, my mom brought Christmas cookies to my class for everyone to decorate. It’s one of my favorite memories. At this point, the best I can hope for is my kids having memories of playing games on my iPhone when I’m not on it.
The problem is, I actually love my job. And I know there’s value to my kids seeing that. But it was hard walking into the house last night after they’d already gone to bed. And it’s hard letting the house get even dirtier than it was before I started any of this. And it’s hard convincing myself to let even more of it go.
It turns out Elfie’s class was tap yesterday, so she didn’t even need the shoes. And when she tried them on, the strap broke. So I guess I’ll be going back to see the 90-year-old tomorrow.
Tammy Soong is a writer, wife, and mom from Reno, Nevada. She takes an absurd amount of pain medication, but not enough to have actually named her children "Newt" and "Elfie." She spends most days stressing out over clutter, writing stuff for this place, and working on podcasts with her gal pals, the Blogging Betties.