Having it All

I'm a enthusiast of Tina Fey. I respect her immensely because she uses her brains to drive her sex appeal, uses her sex appeal to drive her comedy and uses her comedy to make a point about women. Tina's overall thesis is: I may have thinning hair and adult acne, but it's only because I'm trying to have it all.

This has been something I've been struggling with for the past 9 months; having it all.

To me, having it all would be a fantastic, fantasy-like husband who would join me in a marriage of equals, a child or two, an extremely successful career, a rich social life and good hair.

And on paper, I can't say I'm lacking in any department. My husband is so unbelievably supportive, kind, loving and romantic that my friends roll their eyes when I talk about him. My daughter is beautiful, charming, silly and extremely bright. My career is starting to peak in a way I hadn't expected. My circle of friends consists of extremely talented, educated and generous people and, for the most part, if I have a flat iron, enough hair product and a day of zero humidity, some might consider my hair good.

That's on the surface. Let's break it down shall we?

My Husband

As a feminist, I can't believe how much I need a man. Or, at least this man. Because of my relationship, I've been able to accomplish a masters degree and (in another few months) a PhD, become a homeowner and a mother, and be truly in love. He does more than his share of the house work, is quick to change smelly diapers, pushes me out the door for some "me" time and brings home a nice bottle of wine every Friday night. So what's my issue?

I feel completely undeserving.

I don't suffer from a low self-esteem. I know I am worthy of love and kindness. But I often feel overwhelmed by the level of selflessness and compassion he shows. I believe our relationship is too often centered on my current crisis (usually school, motherhood, body image or what to fix for dinner). I worry constantly that I'm not for him what he is for me. Or that I think too much about my own problems and desires that I forget he has any.

To make it worse, he laughs this concern off. He thinks I'm an amazing spouse. And this is puzzling. Don't get me wrong, I make that man laugh. I make him chill out. I make him wear quality fabrics. So yeah, I've got stuff to offer, but it can't ever match what he brings to the relationship.

I remember feeling so uneasy on our honeymoon. No, no, not a UTI. Just a sick feeling the entire trip. I couldn't shake it. It felt kind of like homesickness. Or like the worry that you've left the iron on at home. But when we returned home I still felt it. A pit in my stomach. It wasn't worry that I had made a mistake, it wasn't regret for getting married 5 years younger than I promised myself I would. It was fear. Total fear for nearly 3 months of our married life. I was too happy. He was too great. I loved him too much. And I feared losing it.

While I've calmed my feelings of fear, or at least become numb to them, I still worry that in the end, I won't be what he needs. That I'll take and take and take from him and he'll wake up one day wondering where his life has gone.

Prince Charming comes with a price. Crippling inadequacy.

My Career

This first thing I will say is it frustrates the ever-living hell out of me that my close friends and family have not a clue what I do. This might be my fault. I don't bring it up or demand that they listen to me talk about my job. In fact, I actively try to avoid the topic because I fear I seem pretentious, or worse, boring. But what I do is important, challenging work. Or, it at least pays the day care bill. Either way, it's a big part of me.

I have three jobs. I am a professor at a regional university teaching classes on government and nonprofits. I am a researcher at another university where I conduct program evaluations for nonprofits so they can show their funders that they are effective (though sometimes they aren't). I'm a full time graduate student who's one measly dissertation away from a PhD focusing on government and nonprofit relations; specifically collaboration on policy process. Got it? Good. Because this shit's hard and I'm tired. I have hour long commutes, late nights, ulcers and endless edits that consume my life in the margins, when my child naps. So ask me about my research. Ask my about my students. Ask me about my dissertation. And I'll I brush it off because, honestly, I'd rather talk about you.

My Child

Can't say I don't adore her. Or that I'm not obsessed with her. I can barely stand her I love her so much. But she's simultaneously fascinating and boring right now. She's a baby that crawls everywhere, gets into everything and makes things that I want to do--like napping or reading People magazine--all the more difficult.

Is motherhood rewarding for me? Depends on the day. Some days we play and nap and eat and all is well and I've met her needs and a glimmer sparkles in me and I feel important and powerful and beautiful. Other days she's a handful, crying while I'm trying to collapse the stroller in the rain and I just honestly wish for my old life. Horrible? Settle down. You're fine.

I love 84% of motherhood. Watching her develop. Taking her interesting places.. Caring for her. Kissing her. Watching her sleep. Making her laugh. Feeding her. Tickling her. Reading to her. Planning for her future. Listening to her talk. Yeah, yeah, it's great.

But the other 16% is the part when you are so tired you want to punch the bathroom mirror. Being pulled in a hundred directions. Three jobs and only 2 days of childcare. Post partum depression. Not knowing why she's crying. Judgmental mothers. Not getting a shower every day. Struggling to find energy and opportunity for sex. Never looking pretty. Missing her while I'm at work. Missing work while I'm with her and constantly feeling two steps behind.

Social Life

The problem with having a great social life is finding the time and energy for a great social life. Do I use a babysitter for a romantic date night with my husband, or to go out with our favorite friends to a bar? And if we go to the bar, can we leave by 11? Because my child doesn't accommodate hangovers.

And my women friends who are mothers; they are my salvation. We need to get together and talk about our marriages and motherhood and why infant shoes sizes are an asinine system. But when we get together, we spend a majority of our time wrangling our children, cleaning up their spills, and rolling our eyes at their fussiness. Then we promise to get together later without the kids which we both know will never happen.

My Hair

Sigh...I can't figure out what to do. Long and blonde? Short and dark? I've been all over the color spectrum since my daughter's birth and I know the underlying issue is body image. When I was pregnant I had an epiphany. That if my body can actually grow a baby (there was a time we thought it couldn't) and birth it (which was also questionable) then I was going to love my body, as is, forever. But since pushing her out, the epiphany of pregnancy has been replaced by the frustration of stretch marks and a flabby belly . But when and how do you work out? I can take Lowery in the stroller and walk for as long as she doesn't get upset or crap her pants. I can try to cook a great, healthy meal at the end of a day in which I've packed in motherhood, class, teaching and a meeting, but then I would probably just stick my head in the oven with the roast.

So yeah. I think I'll dye my hair chestnut instead.

It's never been a question that I want it all. Or that I could get it all. But if I can truly have it all. Because having something means maintaining it. Which is time consuming.

And I've got a DVR full of 30 Rock to catch up on.