I periodically vent here about my squabbling offspring, but I need to pause now and celebrate a moment of pure glory.
A few days ago I crashed into a major professional roadblock. I was fretting about looming unemployment after next May. Feeling bitterly rejected. Trying to act brave while actually, literally crying into my ice cream at the edge of a busy Berlin street. (It was good ice cream, too: creme caramel gelato. It deserved better from me. As did my kids in that moment.)
After I wiped away my tears, I explained to the kids that I’d just gotten an email with some very disappointing news about my future job. They listened quietly. For once, no one interrupted.
We finished our cones and proceeded down the street, one child on either side of me. Each of them inserted their ice-cream-sticky hands into mine. Breaking the silence, the Tiger said: “Mama, the goodest thing is that you’ve got me and [the Bear].”
A child is not a job. Kids and paid work are not fungible – and what a mercy that is. But the Tiger is absolutely right. I got teary again for a whole ‘nother reason. And I remembered – I knew – I’ll be okay.
(Happy mama kitteh from ICHC? not intended to essentialize this post to bio-mothers; loving, engaged parents of all stripes and spots can be blessed the goodest thing, too.)
Update, 11:55 p.m. CET, 7/16/10: Not to leave anyone hanging: If you want details on my career roadblock, I don’t want to air them on my blog but am happy to discuss them in private with people whom I trust: sungold85 [at] gmail.com.