Losing my community
While I was never the stay-at-home parent who could run the fundraiser and bake nutritious, gluten-free whole wheat organic brownies for the class and host the Halloween pumpkin decorating party, I was there. At least long enough to say, "good job on the brownies! Don't ever ask me to make them."
With Sage, it's a different story. Because I am a full-time working parent.
I take her to early drop-off, and I've yet to pick her up. I don't know the parents. I wouldn't recognize her classmates on the street. At night she tells me about her day, describing children I have never heard before. I feel oddly, uncomfortably detached from her world in a way that I couldn't have imagined.
It seems unfair somehow that she even has a world without me at all. She's three.
I feel like That Mom, the one who works. You know, the one with the medium-length brown hair? And the black boots? Oh, you might know her if you saw her. Maybe around the neighborhood.
Tomorrow night is her class potluck. I'm picturing myself in a room of strangers who already have connections, awkwardly injecting myself into the conversation with shallow banter over cheese cubes. They plan after-school playdates and weekend lunches, and I hand out my sitter's number, assuring them that she'd love to get Sage together with your daughter, any time at all!
I love what I do. I can't imagine not working. But there are times the balance just seems off.