Day 5 of Unemployment and Embracing Motherhood

home insemination Kit

For the past two years, I have deluded myself into thinking I was successfully juggling work and family life. Before 2013, I was self-employed, often working only three hours a day, while casually enjoying yoga sessions and browsing the toddler clothing aisles at local stores. My academic background as a lawyer, coupled with my recent role as a general counsel for a corporation, drove me to showcase an image of a thriving working mother for my daughter. I wanted her to see that she could achieve it all one day.

However, the reality was starkly different. I was dissatisfied with my full-time position and, in doing so, I was neglecting my family. I struggled to remember essential items for school events—three reminders were often necessary. This year alone, I missed providing snacks for my daughter’s preschool class, despite it being a biannual obligation. I was absent from all parent events at my son’s kindergarten, relying on other mothers to comfort him during tough times. Just last month, I mistakenly dropped off my daughter at school only to find out it was a holiday—how could I have missed that notification?

I felt like I was failing at my attempts to “have it all.” Mornings were chaotic, with me yelling at my children, “Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” They often skipped breakfast, mismatched socks were the norm, and I struggled to tame my daughter’s curly hair as she cried. I barely interacted with their teachers and was completely uninvolved in their school projects, relying on a nanny to pick them up daily. My responsibilities as an executive exempted me from parental volunteer opportunities, and my employer was not going to grant me any time off.

This past Monday, as I dropped off my daughter, I realized I was the only parent who forgot to bring a shoebox for her Valentine’s Day project. My daughter had to settle for a different craft. Upon arriving at work, I was met by my new, somewhat intimidated president, who informed me that my position was being terminated. I returned home, took a moment to clear my mind, and then headed to my attorney’s office for a meeting—this outcome had been a long time coming.

When I shared the news with my children, I reassured them that I would now have more time to dedicate to them. Although I was filled with anxiety, they reacted with pure joy. The next morning, still in my yoga pants, I took the kids to school. Yet again, I forgot the shoebox. In a last-ditch effort, I tried to convince my daughter to use another type of box, but she was adamant about having the specific pink and white striped shoebox from Target.

Off I went to Target, feeling somewhat disoriented by my presence there at 8:30 a.m. on a Tuesday. To my surprise, I found the last remaining shoebox on the shelf. I almost danced with delight—this felt like a victory in motherhood! I managed to resist texting my husband about this minor triumph.

While I was at Target, I decided to purchase Valentine’s Day cards—a rare moment of organization for me. Twenty minutes later, I walked into preschool with the shoebox hidden behind my back. The look of pure happiness on my daughter’s face was immeasurable when she saw me and the box. I realized how much I had missed these moments.

That afternoon, while picking up my son from kindergarten, a friend asked how I was coping with my recent job loss. I replied, “It’s tough, but I’m winning at motherhood this week.” She understood completely.

On Wednesday, I returned to preschool for Parents’ Day, despite not marking it on my calendar. I arrived to find a chaotic scene, with children crying from recent separations. My heart sank as I reflected on how I had inadvertently caused my daughter stress over the past year. I asked her teacher if my daughter exhibited similar anxiety during these events, and her reassuring response was a bittersweet relief.

Later that day, my son was upset about losing a string from a kite he had made. We retraced our steps, finding the remnants of the string, and then headed to the park to fly the kite together. As we walked hand in hand toward kindergarten, he asked if I could look at his class project. I responded, “Absolutely! I’m not in a rush.”

“Because you don’t have a job anymore?” he inquired. I smiled and replied, “Being your mommy is my most important job.” His grip on my hand tightened in affirmation.

While I face uncertainty about my next steps to support my family, my heart feels fuller than it has in a long time. I will need to update my resume and start job hunting, but for now, I am prioritizing my children, including attending a Valentine’s Day party.

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In conclusion, while the journey ahead is unclear, the importance of nurturing family relationships has been reaffirmed during this transformative time.