The Best Laid Plans

I wanted to work part time when I had children. I was adamant about this. I quit my full time teaching job and taught yoga for a couple years, looking for a part time teaching job, waiting for my husband to find full time work and health insurance. In December of 2006 I was hired to work 16.5 hours per week, teaching infants, toddlers and their parents. That was perfect. Exactly what I had in mind. Something simple, a small-j job, just keeping my toes in the professional pool, a backdrop for almost-full-time motherhood, something I hoped for very soon in my future.

* * * * *

My husband found a full time teaching position in September of 2007, and signed up for family health coverage. I got pregnant in October. I worked through my pregnancy, enjoyed my 16.5 hours per week, planned a life in my mind for my baby, for our family. Three weeks after the birth of my first baby I returned to work for a one week training before finishing my three month leave. It was on infant brain development and I brought my newborn son, who lounged in his carseat next to me in the conference room and nursed in my arms while we listened to lectures. We were guinea pigs for the demonstration on how to do home visits. I looked up to the women who taught the training. They were both in their sixties, stylish and smart. Someday, I thought, someday that will be me. My career will peak -like theirs- later in life. Now is the time for my family. Now is the time for my babies. But someday I, too, will be sixty-something, stylish and smart, standing at the front of a conference room, the very picture of competence.

* * * * *

I hoped to come back 12 hours a week, and then gradually work back up to my 16.5. Instead, they rewrote the grant while I was out and expanded my role in the program. I came back 18 hours a week. Less than 6 months after I returned they offered me a promotion. It required 25 hours a week, which then crept up to 30. I negotiated, and ended up at 20 hours with a teaching assistant. I was stressed out a lot of the time. But I loved the work, and it grew more manageable over time as my skill set grew. It wasn't so simple anymore though. Somehow I had ended up in a capital-J Job.

* * * * *

Time passed. I miscarried. I couldn't get pregnant. I weaned my son, waited a couple of months, conceived. Members of my team at work left; new people were hired, and suddenly I was the person with the most seniority and a position of leadership. I got better at the work; it wove its way deeper into my identity; it became a career. Small c. That's more than I wanted, but I found I could handle it. Small c. I could handle it.

* * * * *

I had my second baby, took another 3 month leave, ended up working a little bit of it, and then drew some boundaries and settled into a long winter with my babies. Daydreamed stay-at-home-motherhood, but committed to my small-c career, to my part-time, perfectly balanced, so-well-plotted-out-on-paper-before-I-ever-had-babies, my precisely planned, small-c career.

And then the funding was cut by the federal government, and the professional rug was pulled out from under my not-yet-steady work legs.

Still lost in the magic of my babies I concocted a Plan B. Plan B happens in my home. Plan B happens with my babies. Plan B probably ends up bringing home more money than Plan A because Plan B doesn't spend over half my income on child care. Plan B ain't anything fancy on the ol' resume, but that's okay because I am nothing if not the master of beautiful bullshit, most especially in the realm of the ol' resume. Plan B, while not the thing of beauty that is sticking-with-Plan-A-because-it-took-me-long-enough-to-get-here-and-I'd-prefer-to-avoid-any-more-change-right-now-thank-you-very-much, has a helluva lot going for it, assuming it works out alright, which it probably would.

* * * * *

I went into work this morning to find a surprising e-mail. There's a chance we can continue our program. We'll be in the running for a small pool of state funds against a number of other highly competitive programs. If we win, we'll be funded for one more year, and then begin the process of seeking alternative federal grants, revamping and reorganizing our program to align with the goals of the federal government's vision for the future of education in our country. For this to work I will need to be a teacher, an administrator, a team leader, a grant writer, a political player of sorts in the field of early childhood education, and an advocate for the work that we do on a local, state, and national level. Please don't get me wrong; I'm not bragging. I'm not claiming to know how to be all these things. Quite the contrary. I feel as if I'm suddenly staring down the barrel of a capital-C Career.

* * * * *

How in the hell did I end up here so soon?