Drowning in the Daylight

When I was young I wanted two things: meaningful creative work and a family.

I grew up to have both of those dreams. I cannot imagine any work I’d rather do than writing fiction in my home office. I have two beautiful children and a husband who is loving and supportive. We are a family. We laugh together, love each other, squabble over trivialities and play together. It is the family I wanted and wondered if I’d ever have during all my single days in the 90’s.

I should be happy, right? Well, of course, I am.

But…

Snapshot of today. There are baskets of laundry waiting to be folded and put away, piles that need washing, including most likely every pair of pants my husband owns except for what he’s wearing today. My floors need vacuuming. The children need baths. I think we might be out of milk.

Then there’s the schoolwork. According to the progress report from preschool, I’m supposed to be ‘supplementing’ my 4-year-old’s school lessons by working on the alphabet so she’s ready for kindergarten next year. Yes, I said it. She doesn’t know all her letters yet. Because of me, you see. Because I haven’t worked with her enough. Her best friend knows all the letters, probably their sounds too, and how to put them together to make the word CAT. My eight year old needs to do math facts and read to me for twenty minutes, about which she will protest. Loudly.

Dinner is unmade, unimagined even, except for a vague concept of tacos, for which I only have some of the ingredients.

And I’m at my desk, the late afternoon light coming in through the windows, trying to come up with a blog post that has something to say that matters, while the kids play together upstairs, probably taking down every toy they own and leaving it in the middle of their bedroom floors.

I have this feeling that I’m drowning in the middle of the afternoon. I’m in a race and miles from the finish line on the hottest day of the year. I’m overwhelmed, uncertain, anxious. I think of my unfinished manuscript untouched today because I was taking care of my daughter. And there’s this feeling deep down that I’m a not only a hack of a writer but a terrible mother and wife.

There is some comfort in knowing I’m not alone. There are others. They come in the forms of my girlfriends who are honest enough to tell me they feel like they don’t do anything well enough, that there is always this juggling act between career and children that makes them feel guilty and confused.

But I do believe it’s better than it was for previous generations of women. We can dream big, strive big and still have a family. It’s just that we’re not going to be perfect at any of it all the time or maybe any of the time.

There are going to be days we feel like we’re drowning in an empty pool. Fortunately, when we come up to the surface, our families are still there, waiting for us to take a deep breath. And make their dinner.

Tess Hardwick is a novelist and mother. Her first novel, ‘Riversong’, will be out in April 2011 (Booktrope). She lives in Snoqualmie, Washington. Visit her to read more.