Five Days in the Life: Two Working Moms Run the Office-Home Relay
A Medium parenting diary
As part of our working parents publication, Medium commissioned a diverse array of American parents to document a week — four to seven workdays — in their lives. Our hope is that the resulting tally of dinners and bedtimes; playdates and naps; sprints from daycare to work and back again; will reveal some essential truths about parenting in this country.
Names: Shelly Usher and Nikki Usher, early 30s
City: Bethesda, Maryland
Child: Brinton, seven months
Job: Shelly is a lawyer, managing a staff and editing legal reference materials for large publishing company. Nikki is an assistant professor at George Washington University
Allowed leave: For Shelly, 12 weeks, per the Family Medical Leave Act. Three weeks are paid. Sick time and vacation time can also be used. For Nikki, one full semester, with pay.
Leave taken: For Shelly, 12 weeks, including three weeks of paid family leave, three weeks of sick time and vacation time, and six unpaid weeks. For Nikki, a full semester.
Childcare setup: Home daycare three days a week; two days a week, Nikki takes care of the children while working at home during the summer — unless she’s traveling, which happens one out of three weeks all year, in which case the children stay in daycare all week.
Childcare cost: $350/wk
Active parenting time this week: 12 hours for Nikki, 17 hours for Shelly.
Parenting policy we’d like to see in the world: Universal, public childcare/daycare.
We met in Philadelphia right after college and have been together since 2004; we married in California in 2008 before the state passed Proposition 8, making same-sex marriage illegal. (Prop. 8 was later ruled unconstitutional by a federal court.) We had Brinton seven months ago. In our spare time, we like kayaking, running, cycling and hanging out with our little dude. Both of us are contributing to this journal, which covers five days in our lives as working parents.
Day One: Monday, August 3, 2015
Nikki’s journal
4:55 a.m.
I lie still and pretend to be half-asleep while Shelly gets a bottle for Brinton, who is doing O.K. at sleeping through the night, but wakes up after 12 hours with intense hunger —meaning, at 4:55 a.m. Not ideal. I feel guilty for kind of just lying there, but up until a week ago, Shelly had been nursing him; that was her special time, and it had devolved into her job. I feel a little jerky about that.
6:20 a.m.
Brinton’s been in his crib, happy and squealing and babbling, and we suppose we should get up. Doctors have said it’s cool to let him hang out in his crib, so we feel O.K. about letting him chill, but still a little guilty. Then it hits me: I remember that last night we were freaked out about a weird circle he has on his cheek (and maybe some light circles elsewhere). Was it ringworm? Was it something else? Do I have one on my face? As a hypochondriac, I am totally freaked out.
The weird circle looks like this:
He’s had it for three days; we’d better go to the doctor. I silently pray he can go to daycare. If it’s ringworm, Shelly has to take off the rest of the week while I’m out of town for a conference, and she has almost no time off, having used everything on maternity leave.
8:35 a.m.
There’s no way that Shelly can take him to the doctor’s today, so it’s my turn. We love the Georgetown Pediatrics folks (affiliated with Georgetown, where he was delivered) but the wait is insane. We rush to go during walk-in hours.
9:50 a.m.
Leave doctor’s office with a diagnosis of viral rash. (I’m still convinced, by the way, that I also have a weird circle on my cheek. I had the attending physician and the resident check him out, and if he and I have some unknown brain parasite, I will be suing. Again, hypochondria.) He’s O.K. for daycare. Thank God. Run to daycare, but, after checking my e-mail, realize that daycare isn’t sure he’s coming; Shelly, in her rush to get out of the house, didn’t have a chance to let them know he might be coming late.
10:30 a.m.
I have a few hours to work. I leave for my conference on Wednesday. In that time, I have to prep for the conference, teach an online course on Asia-time, write and review a book chapter that is due, schedule guest speakers for the fall, write a piece for Columbia Journalism Review, and work on the book.
4 p.m.
O.K., I like getting Brinton early because my schedule (sort of) allows me to do so. But the kid needs to be in bed by 6 p.m. He’s home by 4:30 p.m., and I have just enough time to feed him, play with him a tiny bit, read him a book, and bathe him before he collapses in my arms so I can put him down.
6 p.m.
Shelly stopped at the store and makes dinner and this week’s lunches for us, so I can work on the overdue chapter. She gets bonus points for making homemade baby food while cooking dinner. Now that Brinton basically refuse to nurse, I think it makes her feel a little closer to him.
Shelly’s journal
My milk that I pumped at work almost went bad, because I had to stop for groceries on the way home. And I forgot to buy breakfast food and am going to run out of food before this weekend, which kind of sucks because there is no time for shopping before or after picking up Brinton from daycare.
Day Two: Tuesday, August 4th
Nikki’s journal
5:30 a.m.
Will this kid ever let us sleep past 7 a.m. again? Like the cruel parents that we are, we put him in the playpen right outside our door and let him have fun with his giraffe and his whale, and he makes adorable noises while we doze a bit. We’re just delighted hearing him giggle.
7 a.m.
We’re scrambling. Shelly has to get into the office by 9:15 a.m. So she showers while I feed the baby, then she changes him while I shower, then I prep the daycare bag while … etc.
9 a.m.
I don’t know how it gets done, but I somehow end up getting him to daycare kind of late.
9:30 a.m.
I’m home and starting work — way behind, again. I’ve got to finish a three-hour presentation by 4 p.m. — due to GW’s executive education client in Asia tonight at 8 p.m.
Shelly texts later: Mde it to the office, barely in time, tx for taking Brinton.
4:00 p.m.
Traffic jam. Daycare closes at 5:30 p.m., Brinton wants to go to bed at 5:20 p.m. I sit in an hour of traffic and barely make it in time to pick him up. But he’s still rolling, so we make it a later night.
6:00 p.m.
I’m waiting for Shelly to come home. I have to be back on campus for to do a social media training session for our executive education program by 7:15 p.m.
6:15 p.m.
Shelly walks in, catching Brinton for his first sitting-by-himself bath. There’s a quick hand-off, and I dart out. I luck out with traffic. I even have time to pick up three Red Bulls, Swedish Fish, and a Coke on my way.
7:15 p.m. to 11:30 p.m.
I work on the late-night training session.
12 a.m.
I come home, throw my clothes in a backpack and hope I have everything, and set my clock for 6 a.m., when I have to get ready to leave for the Dulles airport to go to San Francisco.
Day Three: Wednesday, August 5
Shelly’s journal
5:40 a.m.
Brinton’s up again. He’s got to learn how to play independently. The doctor said so. I put him in his playpen and let him hang. He is amazingly cute in the morning. Nikki is off and running to get to the airport.
6:15 a.m.
I prep Brinton, pump, eat, and basically do it all this morning. But I think Nikki has my wallet, and we switched cars, and if she has it, I have to find a way to go to Dulles or … I call her, frantic, but then I find the wallet at home.
7:47 a.m.
Tried to get out of the house at 7:30 a.m. Ha.
4:30 p.m.
Running out from work, hoping to get to the bebe before his evening meltdown. I never leave work this early except when Nikki is gone. It sometimes takes an hour to get back to Bethesda.
6:26 p.m.
He just fell asleep. OMG, he was so cute in the bathtub. Smiling and splashing and smiling and splashing. He loves it. He never really had his meltdown tonight. Not sure how much he napped today, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to let him stay up too late.
Day Four: Thursday, August 6
Shelly’s journal
6:15 a.m.
Baby up. Remembered to put a shirt over my work shirt. They say that when you’re introducing a baby to new tastes, you should feed him the same food three days in a row. I can’t remember if this is Day Three or Day Four with pears.
8:30 a.m.
In the office and pumping immediately. But I have to pump into an apple-juice container because I forgot to take my milk-storage bottle with me in the rush to get out of the house. I hope he is not allergic to apples. My pump situation got confused yesterday because I forgot to bring home my pump parts because I was in a rush. Today I brought some spares but they aren’t as good as my real ones. But at least I have pump stuff.
2:29 p.m.
I feel like I am getting a chest cold.
5:00 p.m.
My friend Katie comes over. I made it home in record time, and she hasn’t seen Brinton awake, so I wanted to give her the chance. Today is Brinton’s seven-month birthday, so it’s sticker time. We try pretty hard to keep our social lives functional and have people over for dinner even if we can’t go out. I put him down, and we cook and eat dinner together.
Day Five: Friday, August 7
Shelly’s journal
8:30 a.m.
The problem with a working-parent diary is that I don’t have time, as a working parent, to keep up with a diary.
I spill some of my morning pumped milk. I learned during my first month back at work: Don’t cry over spilled milk. Still, it makes me sad. That’s his food I am spilling.
1:45 p.m.
I’ve pumped only once today, and my boobs are about to burst. So I pump again and shut my door. My supply is drying up, but that’s O.K. because he’s seven months old. Still, it makes me sad.
5:05 p.m.
Got home with the bebe. He’s about to wolf down some sweet potatoes in a few minutes. He’s charming as usual. I got lucky this week, because I could arrange to be off early while Nikki is away, but her frequent travels have really started to wear on me.
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