I love my job. Three weeks ago, I started working part-time at a women’s clothing store, something I never thought I’d do. Me? Retail? But, don’t you have to be outgoing and be comfortable invading the personal space of strangers, and know how to hustle and sell and, and, and...the very idea used to cause me serious anxiety. But life happens and I needed a job, both for the money and for my sanity after more than four years as a stay-at-home mom. I had a really hard time finding a job at all, mostly because of the aforementioned shyness - getting my resume out there was no trouble, but following up? That would mean phoning a stranger. Ugh. I figured the odds would eventually turn out in my favour, though, and if I got a million resumes out there, I’d probably get at least one call, right?
Fast-forward a year, and I finally landed an interview. I connected with my prospective boss instantly and started work the following Tuesday. I fully expected to hate the job with every fibre of my being, until I was fired at the end of my first week. Instead, this job has proven to be the perfect fit for me. I get to dress up and be creative and chatter with sweet little old ladies. I get to satisfy my urge to shop without spending a dime. I get to practice approaching strangers and making small talk without any negative social consequences if I make an ass of myself. It’s been 3 weeks and I feel like a new person, like the dynamic me that I always suspected was hidden behind my nervousness and negative self-talk.
That’s the good news.
The bad news is that every night I lay awake thinking I should quit because it’s not worth the hassle and expense of child care. My husband’s schedule is flexible and he promised to be “accomodating” when I was offered my job because it’s important to me that the kids are in the care of a family member most of the time, but reality is proving to be much more complicated. My hourly wage is less than half of my husband’s, and for me to work a 4 hours shift, he has to take off the whole day to stay with the kids. The way he sees things, it costs us over $100 a day for me to work.
So now the pressure is on for me (yes, me) to arrange daycare for the kids, which should cost less than that $100, BUT the trouble is that my shifts are a little longer than my 2 year old can handle being away from home. Now, I know that he would get used to it quickly, but that’s not the point. The point, well, the first point, is that this is not what I agreed to when I started working outside the home. I agreed to my husband becoming a part-time stay-at-home parent - a minor redistribution of responsibilities.
Another point is that I barely make enough to cover the cost of daycare, even with the BC Child Care Subsidy contributing (an extra $9-$14 a day per child depending on what kind of care we/I choose). I like my job, but not enough to do it for free.
The final point (for today) is this: Why on earth am I the only parent in this house kept up at night worrying about this? Is it because I’m insane and am letting this bother me way more than it should or is it because I’m a woman who is making the mistake of trying to have it all?
I know that I am the last in this little collective to start working outside the home, and I know I am not the first to come up against this wall. I have watched my friends struggle to make the “right” decision only to come to the conclusion that there is no right answer, but a least-bad solution. I know that we’ve all had nights of tossing and turning, worrying about how we can do the things we want and need to do without causing our children to suffer or compromising our values. What has me frustrated is that my partner doesn’t share my concerns. Sure, he cares, but he sleeps soundly every night and he is quite content to let this be my responsibility. I also have a feeling my husband isn’t the only loving, involved dad who acts this way.
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