Look at my shoes!

I have a running joke with my friend Karen that when I get in an awkward spot in a conversation (and that's pretty regularly, as I don't have that helpful edit feature that keeps me from calling a total ass a total ass to his face), I can always get out of it by calling attention to my shoes: "Look! My shoes are so shiny and pretty!" And so today, I call attention to my new shoes. Aren't they so shiny and pretty?

I'm calling attention to my shoes today as a reminder to myself of why Clementine is in daycare and I am at work instead of guiding her develoment minute by minute at home. OK, so it's a little crass to think I am trusting a good chunk of my daughter's day to a total stranger just so I can have cute shoes, but I'm thinking of the shoes as more of a symbol of the things I want Clementine and our family to have over the years: new shoes, sure, but also some nice vacations, our very own house to live in, a college education, comfort, security, a future and fun. It doesn't always feel like a fair trade-off, but it's one that many women make, and I'm proud (if not a bit sad) to count myself among the ranks of working moms.

When I first started working this job, my younger sister was beginning her life as an at-home mom. We talked on the phone almost every day as I was making my way to or from work, and I used to get so pissed at her complaints about life at home (not that there were many). It seemed unfair that she saw any down side to being at home all day long, cuddling her kid, getting to go to the post office at a leisurely pace, doing whatever she wanted, etc. Obviously, I had a pretty skewed idea of the life of an at-home mom, but nevertheless there were times I was so jealous of her ability to be at home while I was trudging through the work-a-day world that I could barely speak to her. Now I wonder how she can stay so sane amid the chaos of her life at home; she works so hard!

As with all of the lessons I've learned since the arrival of darling C., I could never have known how hard it is to take either side of this issue until it was directly upon me. On the one hand, staying home seems like the best plan, an opportunity to personally oversee all the important details and moments in my child's upbringing, to nurture her every step of the way, to ensure she is raised with the "correct" (meaning my) morals and values. On the other hand, working means being able to provide for her needs in a more material way, to set an example for her of a woman's ability to make her own way in the world and to remain a vital part of the adult world, which I think can benefit her in a number of ways. Of course, there are down sides as well, too numerous and familiar to begin to list, and I'm trying hard not to dwell on that.

So, I've just about survived my first day of daycare, and my shoes have survived their first day on my feet. The mundane details: Nate and I went together this morning, and Clementine was happy as a lamb when we left her with Julie. The other kids were cheerful and happy to arrive at her house, and the environment felt right. OK, so I cried on the way out and in my car on the way to work and in my office when I got here, but the day is whizzing by, and I'll get to bundle her, screams and all, in my car in just a while. This will work for us for now. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

Look at my shoes. Aren't they (and I really mean all they symbolize) worth it?