THE WOODWARD/MORFOOT CONUNDRUM ~ Changes to My Tap Dance

My daughter recently checked out a book from the preschool called My Working Mom. It had a cartoon witch on the cover…I’m sure the two men who wrote this book had the absolute best intentions, but this leads to my point. The topic of working moms is a tap-dance recital in a minefield.

〜Tina Fey, author of Bossypants

Reality hit last week. I’m spreading myself too thin, and it’s not doing me any good. I should have come to this realization on my own, or at least before my husband Ross left for a two-week job in India, but no. It took a non-family member (a person for whom I have tremendous respect and who shall remain nameless) to enlighten me. It was hard for me to hear that some of my professional aspirations needed to be put on hold, but I took the news with dignity. I’m lying—I had a four-hour meltdown. I cried to my mother for an hour, skyped Ross in India for another two hours, and then watched The Real Housewives of Whatever County (those women never fail in making me feel better about myself). Only then did I start to make adjustments.

I won’t bore you with the details, but I will say that one major change involved Harry-care. Finding a good/convenient daycare isn’t a career goal, but childcare allows me the time I need to focus on my school/career objectives. Unlike Tina Fey, I don’t work eighty-hour weeks, but like Ms. Fey I live in the Big Apple, and finding close, reliable childcare is an issue. For the last six months, Ross and I have been hauling Harry from Brooklyn to Manhattan three days a week to bring him to a daycare that we like. Since we work from home, this involves four subway rides per day.  But last week (hooray!), I found a trustworthy daycare in our neighborhood that didn’t have the customary waiting list. Now, our daycare commute will be fifteen minutes instead of ninety. Why, you ask, don’t we hire a nanny? Well unlike Ms. Fey’s, my apartment isn’t exactly huge (this is an assumption—Tina’s never invited me over for dinner), and then there’s the whole working from home thing (enough said).

My tap dancing routine also demanded a few career-oriented alterations, which I begrudgingly made. With these changes in place, I’m beginning to feel like I might have a tighter grip on the ledge that I’m clinging to. And because of that, I’ve been able to enjoy Harry that much more. He likes to give me taps on the back after a good meal, shake his index finger at me when he’s upset, play hide and go seek at 7 a.m., and give me kisses before bedtime. In a way though, his constant evolution only makes things harder. Some days, all I want to do is hang out with him and forget about my work/school life altogether, but that’s not realistic (so thankfully, I can’t spend too much time obsessing about it).

Coping with all these changes while Ross is on another continent isn’t ideal, but luckily Tina Fey wrote Bossypants. It should be required reading. Moms, dads, and even childless human beings need to take a look. I just re-read the chapter titled “There’s a Drunk Midget in My House,” and started crying because I was laughing so hard. (Disclaimer: I don’t get out much. Harry goes to bed at 7 o’clock.)

Fingers crossed that my dance recital doesn’t go awry, but if I do run into some glitch along the way, I’ve got Harry and Bossypants to keep me amused.

Addie Morfoot is a freelance journalist at Daily Variety and is finishing her MFA in creative writing at The New School. Last year, her world turned upside down when she gave birth to her son Harry. Each Monday, she writes about juggling work, school, marriage, and motherhood in the Big Apple.