When my daughter's father and I divorced, I had a spectacular job. It was less than a thirty hour a week position and I received a very nice salary at that time, so I felt quite comfortable and able to handle the job of a single parent household. I could pretty much set my work hours as long as I performed my duties, management was very tolerant - I was able to arrive at work after I took my daughter to school as well as pick her up when school was over. I had time to be a room mom and do other volunteer work at the school, and well, just be there. Mind you, her dad, though not under the same roof, was definitely a contributive father. He fortunately lived near, which was comforting since we had no other family around. With these work hours, I was also able to adequately take care of the house. However, four years after the divorce, my wonderful job ceased. My company was down sizing, so before I was asked to leave, I sought another position. I was lucky to find one in a short period of time and in good proximity - the catch, less pay, more hours. However, it was "food on the table" and in my profession, so I accepted. But, not without guilt. Even though we lived a block from her school at the time I took the new job, this is what I felt:
PULLED AND TWISTED
With this job, I can't seem to do
Things that a mom needs to -
It takes too much out of me.
I have nothing left, you see,
I'm all decisioned out.
Too much needing repair,
A phone, a floor, a door, a chair,
A car, a piano and roller blades.
Not to mention screens and shades.
Repairman phone tag, no time.
Stretched to the limit,
Trying to make the pieces fit
House, yard, laundry, meals,
Juggling lessons, it often feels
As if opportunities become the problems.
It seems the decisions I make
With hopes they will take
Us on a better road,
Instead bring a heavier load,
And the child is ignored.
Working so hard to survive,
More than that, thrive.
Nothing more important
Than the job! But,
My child is at home,
Alone,
Watching TV.
Poem written August 5, 1997
PULLED AND TWISTED
With this job, I can't seem to do
Things that a mom needs to -
It takes too much out of me.
I have nothing left, you see,
I'm all decisioned out.
Too much needing repair,
A phone, a floor, a door, a chair,
A car, a piano and roller blades.
Not to mention screens and shades.
Repairman phone tag, no time.
Stretched to the limit,
Trying to make the pieces fit
House, yard, laundry, meals,
Juggling lessons, it often feels
As if opportunities become the problems.
It seems the decisions I make
With hopes they will take
Us on a better road,
Instead bring a heavier load,
And the child is ignored.
Working so hard to survive,
More than that, thrive.
Nothing more important
Than the job! But,
My child is at home,
Alone,
Watching TV.
Poem written August 5, 1997
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