Phoning it in...

I've been part of the workforce since I turned 14 years old. It was the summer of 1994 and I was an LIT, a leader-in-training with the Scarborough Recreation, Parks and Culture department. I was proud of myself for landing this job, because it was one of very few jobs (other than newspaper delivery) that you could get under the age of 16 without working under the table. I loved my job, I learned a lot from it and it groomed me for my position as a full fledged leader. I spent the next few summers working for the Iron Butterflies camp, a camp for developmentally delayed children in wheelchairs. This was probably the most challenging and rewarding job I've had to date. I was there from 8-4, Monday to Friday and was responsible for everything from planning our daily curriculum, to changing and feeding campers, to acting as a liason between our campers and their parents or group homes. Sometimes I even had to step up and advocate for our campers if I felt they were being neglected or poorly cared for at their homes. All of this at the age of 16, and I wasn't alone. There was a whole group of us. We were the only camp in Scarborough that had an almost 1-1 ratio of staff/volunteers to campers. Even still, by the end of the day, we were all done. Toast. The only thing we could think of to burn off steam was to drink, and drink we did! We drank so much that by the time I got to university I was done with drinking for good (well, not for good, but ask anyone who went to school with me, Eve drinking was a momentous occasion).

Anyway, you may be wondering what this has to do with my being a mom and it goes something like this: from the day I entered the workforce, until the day I was pregnant with Daphne, I worked twelve jobs. Twelve jobs and I can honestly tell you that the number of times I called in sick was three, maybe four times. And better yet, those three or four times all happened in the two years leading up to the day I was pregnant with Daphne. I worked three summers at the Iron Butterflies camp, and for three summers, I showed up to work either physically exhausted from the previous day's work or hungover from partying too hard the night before. I would get 4-6 hours of sleep every night and somehow, I was able to do my job at a very high level while bringing smiles to our campers faces. I'm not writing this to brag, I'm writing this because for the life of me I can't figure out how I did it. How did I manage to not call in sick a single time? How did I not die of exhaustion? I chalk it all up to being young and man do I wish I was young now.

I took my pregnancy very seriously. I ate well, went to yoga and aquafit every week, took my prenatal vitamins and made sure to sing, talk, read and cuddle our little growing miracle. I even called in sick -- a lot; if I didn't feel 100% I was out. I wanted our baby to have the best chance from the start, and that meant I couldn't take any chances. I felt guilty calling in sick so much as it has never been a part of me. I wouldn't say that I'm the world's best employee, but one of my strengths is that I possess a very strong work ethic. I don't believe in calling in sick just for the sake of calling in sick. At least I didn't used to.

Boy do I wish that I coud just call in sick right now. Pick up the phone, hear Dave answer and say to him in my best faking-sick voice, "I'm really sorry, but I just can't make it in today. I've got this throat thing and I really don't want to risk making any of my co-workers sick". Man, would that be nice. I would kill for a day off. But I can't. Even if Dave were to take over all the chores and Daphne duties for the day, I wouldn't be able to turn off being a mom. Yeah, I suppose I could go to a spa for some R & R for a few hours, but what I'm talking about is sitting at home, on the couch, watching dvds of a series you've been meaning to watch for years, ordering in dinner and just lounging, for the whole day. Not a few hours, the whole day! Yeah, that'd be nice. I wish someone would have told me when I was fourteen to cherish those carefree days; heck, I wish I had listened when people told me to relax as much as possible before the baby came.

You know what else I wish? That someone would have told me that from the second you have a child your life as you know it is no more. There will never be a moment when I'm not worrying about Daphne and how she's doing. When I'm not thinking about how her day will unfold and what I can do to help her get through it without a hitch. As she gets older I'll worry about new things, like enrolling her in preschool and making sure that we're starting her off on the right foot. Then it'll be primary school and high school and then hopefully she'll leave. But that's when the real worrying will start. She won't call when she says she will and I'll worry that something's gone wrong. She'll meet a boy (or girl) who I'll worry isn't treating her well enough. Then she'll marry said boy (or girl) and have a baby and all the while I'll be worrying, but now not only about her, but about her family. The worry, it's overwhelming! But I guess in the end that's what makes me a mom and I'm glad that I have someone so freaking adorable to worry about 'cause she's awesome and I love her!