By Zibby Owens, Reprinted with permission
It’s 11:00 p.m. and I’m still sitting on my son’s bed after I put him to bed. I’m in the dark, the only sound his sweet, even breath and the keys clacking. Piled next to me, over part of the laptop keypad and on top of his stuffed animals, are all the kids’ various school schedules for the rest of the year. Four kids. Three schools. Different breaks. Different holidays observed.
I keep flipping from one to the other, checking my calendar, hand-writing notes as if that will help. Wait, who will be where, when!?
I spent hours over the winter break trying to finalize the kids’ summer plans. I’m lucky to be able to send them to camp or on wonderful summer programs, but there are so many options with various dates and requirements. Forget about the forms. This coming summer, somehow my kids will be ages 9 to 17. Insane. The programs vary widely, to say the least. But the real question is: how did they get to be this old?!
On top of all the kids’ stuff plus juggling the custody schedule, I’ve added 45 events to my own plate with the Zibby-verse tour. What was I thinking?! Okay, yes, I’m very excited about it. I’ve always wanted to visit all these bookstores and venues across the country. I’ve always wanted to get a novel published since I was about eight years old. I’ve wanted to take my podcast, “Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books,” on the road. Plus I get to be in conversation with 50+ amazing authors. So, yay.
But what if I can’t pull this off?
I keep telling myself this whole tour is no different than if I had a job that required a ton of regular travel. Some parents do this every week, flying to and from Cincinnati and Minneapolis like it’s the crosstown bus. I think of all those consultants I went to business school with and how they’ve been doing this for 20 years now. What, I’m worried about a couple months? Please.
And yet, I’m embarking on a period of time in my life that deviates from my typical mandate of spending as much time with the kids as possible. I stayed home with the kids for eleven years before starting this whole phase of life. Eleven years! Even now, I leave work every day at 2:45 p.m. to pick them up at school, resuming after they start their after-school activities, or maybe after they go to bed. I often work late into the night to get it all done. Like so, so many of us.
Now I’m asking myself: Is it okay to miss a few pick-ups in March, April, and May as I travel for the tour? (I would tell a friend: of course!) What are the true costs of our career decisions? Am I being a bad mom if I get home after they go to bed or am I modeling professional achievement? When do we get the report card for our parenting? How and when do we know if we did it right?
I don’t know. I know I have to pack up these papers and get some sleep. Podcast recordings resume in the morning. I’m going on “Good Day, DC” at 9:40 a.m. and have to remember which books I plan to talk about. I love what I do. And I’m so excited.
I mean, I’ve had so many novels rejected and have cried buckets of tears on the bathroom floor feeling like I would never, ever be able to do it. That no matter how badly I wanted it, getting a book published might never happen for me. That my life goals wouldn’t be achieved.
And now it’s happening. Blank! Finally! At age forty-seven. Decades after my first round of submissions went out. I want to stand on a table, my arms raised over my head, and dance to “Little Boo Thing” in excitement. Please don’t visualize that. But I also want to be at dinner every night with the little kids and at pick-up and at bedtime and….
I want it all.
It’s like that song (just Googled “Epic” by Faith No More): “You want it all but you can’t have it…. It’s in your face but you can’t grab it.” Actually I’m reading these lyrics right now and oh my lord. I don’t think this song is what I thought it was about. Yikes.
But anyway.
I could use some advice on work travel and parenting. On balancing career and kids. Ambition and consistency. Before I know it, all four of them will be out of the house. I can feel it coming like a storm brewing that meteorologists keep predicting and I keep ignoring. It’s coming. And soon. I need some snow boots. I know! But today it’s beautiful, so why stop to think about it?
Really, I just want to hug my kids close and hold onto vacation for a few more days. My heart felt like it won the slot machine jackpot every time I saw all four of them together, even walking down the street. Ding! Ding, ding! My soul lit up. Now it’s all hurtling forward so quickly. I can’t catch my breath. Did vacation really need to end? I miss the me who is relaxed around them, not distracted and stressed.
Yes, there’s a cost. To all of it.
I’m trying to do my best. I hope the kids know that. Even if I’m not home before bedtime occasionally. I know many parents don’t even get to be home for their kids, and I’m extremely lucky. I know. I promise. I get it.
But still. It feels hard. Doesn’t it?
Zibby Owens is an author, publisher, award-winning podcaster of Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books, CEO of Zibby Media, the publishing house Zibby Books, owner of indie bookstore Zibby’s Bookshop, Zibby Mag an online magazine, GMA contributor, and mom of four, ages 9 through 16.
Hi Zibby. As an author and ambitious mom (one novel, lots of articles, two kids), I can totally relate to these sentiments! Thanks for sharing. Best wishes. Congrats on your wins (big and small).