Learning to Juggle

Nine years ago, I eagerly became a stay-at-home mom. I had spent five years as an English teacher, but I was oh-so-ready to give my attention to one baby boy instead of dividing it between 100 teenagers. Two years later, we moved to New York while I was pregnant with our daughter. There were lots of adjustments as we parented two little ones and navigated a new community. I learned to juggle, and it became an incredibly rewarding, and exhausting, chapter of my life. I'd never felt more fulfilled.

Then, Covid hit. I helped my son attempt hybrid kindergarten (an oxymoron if ever there were one) and kept an eye on my toddling daughter. The exhaustion ramped up. The juggling became more intense. But it remained within the overlapping realms of my home life. My focus stayed the same, even amidst the strain of the unknown that Covid introduced.

When my daughter headed off to kindergarten (non-hybrid, PHEW), I decided to pursue my writing dream. I'd postponed it through grad school and teaching and early parenthood and global pandemics, but it was time to give it a chance. The scenario seemed ideal: I would write while the kids were at school and put the laptop away when they came home. I'd control my hours, slowly turn this hobby into a career, and still be present for my family.

BUT, it turns out that time isn't as simple as that. Non-writing tasks inevitably call to me during school hours, proclaiming themselves as non-negotiable (they're right, too). My hours shrink, quickly. Shockingly quickly. And creativity comes in unplanned spurts. Then, when I finally hit my writing stride just as the school bus pulls up, I'm pulled in two directions all afternoon. I want to hear my children's stories. I want to read with them, play with them, laugh with them. And I also want to finish that exciting scene that was pouring out of me just twenty minutes ago. I want to implement the feedback from my critique partners that was just clicking into place before backpacks were flung on the counter and feet ran through the hall.

I've never been a "working mom" before. I mean, I've worked, the hardest I've worked in my life, over these past nine years. Juggling household chores and children's needs? I'm familiar with that; I can handle it. But juggling household chores, children's needs, AND writing? It's a different skill set. It's brand-new to me. I'm discovering, firsthand, that the elusive "balance" is tricky to find and even trickier to maintain.

I know these juggling acts are universal. I'm far from the first to experience them. Now that I've shifted in how I treat my writing, though, I've had to shift how it fits into my life. It's a riddle that I didn't really see coming, but it's one I want to solve. Parenting and writing both bring me joy. They're both essential in my life.

I know, ultimately, that there's room for me to write my books and embrace my family. The variables in life are both ever-present and ever-changing. So, I'll adjust until I find a rhythm. And after I find that rhythm, the variables will probably introduce more changes, sending joys and responsibilities into the air. I'll try to catch them. I'll put on some music and practice. I'll learn to juggle.