THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 28, 1994 TAG: 9408260491
SECTION: HAMPTON ROADS WOMAN PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY TAMMY SCOTT, SPECIAL TO HAMPTON ROADS WOMAN
LENGTH: Long : 114 lines
LET ME first make it clear that I love my job.
However, I do not work solely for self-gratification, nor am I on a power trip. If I had a choice, I would be content as a domestic engineer. But I am among the ranks of other working mommies who bring home not necessarily ``the'' bacon, but a big part of it - plus cook it, serve it to my family and clean up the mess afterward. During the work week, I live by a daily plan, which I try not to veer from one iota.
On one Monday morning, though, it became apparent that my day would not go as planned.
My daughter, Lana, attends a day-care center within walking distance from my office. Like many toddlers, she goes through a bout of separation anxiety.
After spending several minutes with Lana to get her situated, I kissed her bye-bye and stood up to leave. She started wailing. She flung her arms around my knees in a grip so tight I could not walk. ``No, Mommy, no go bye-bye,'' she cried, as tears streamed down her tiny face.
I don't have to explain this type of pain to other parents who have been through this. It feels as though your heart is being sucked right out of your chest. I left the center in tears. Mondays are the pits.
I entered the elevator in my office building and noticed an older, attractive woman staring at me oddly. Actually she was staring at my shoulder. I've never had a problem with dandruff, but I was a little apprehensive to see what was rousing her curiosity. I looked and saw that remains from Lana's milk mustache were smeared on my dark-colored blazer.
I managed to smile at the woman and said, ``My little girl had some milk at the day care before I left her and must've gotten this on me when I picked her up. Nothing a little soda water won't fix.''
She stated matter-of-factly, ``In my day, we wouldn't have dreamed of leaving our children at day care to go to work. We stayed home.''
Okey-dokey. Nice stab lady. Touche, right where my heart used to be before it was ripped out this morning.
Luckily she got off the elevator so I wasn't forced to continue chatting. No big deal. Maybe she really meant no harm. Maybe she was part of the ``June and Ward Cleaver'' generation.
When I reached my desk, I called the day care. ``How's Lana?'' I asked, trying to disguise the lump in my throat.
``She's fine,'' the teacher replied. ``We've got a big day planned. After we eat breakfast, we're going outside for water play before it gets too hot, and then we're going to finger paint. You know how much Lana loves that! The question is, how are you?''
``Oh, I'm fine,'' I replied.
Well, I was fine until I returned from lunch. I ran into an old friend in the elevator. She and her son had a dental appointment in the building. After exchanging the usual greetings, we paused a second and gave each other the once-over. I was wearing a blazer, dress and heels. She looked wonderful, clad in a casual shorts outfit and matching headband.
``I'm dressed like this because we're going to the park afterward,'' she said, as if to make an excuse for her appearance. ``Must be great to have a reason to dress up every day,'' she added.
``Well, I'd much rather be dressed like you and going to the park instead of back to work,'' I said.
The elevator door opened, interrupting our brief exchange. God, how I wish I were taking Lana to the park.
That afternoon I sat staring out my window for a short time. (Yes, I was daydreaming.) Some serious stuff went down in that elevator today. More than just the usual stuff like, ``What floor?'' and ``I heard it's really supposed to get hot today.'' Stuff that made me think about my life, about my routine.
After all, I do the best job I can. At home first, work second. No matter how draining the day may be, no matter how rushed the schedules are, my husband, Rob, and I always have our family time with Lana each evening. An old cliche says it's not the quantity of time you spend with your family that's important but the quality of the time you spend. Well, I believe that's just not so. Quantity time is just as important.
So I decided to leave work promptly at 5 p.m., which is a rarity. I couldn't wait to pick up Lana.
When I reached the day care, the toddler who screamed ``No mommy, no go bye-bye'' earlier now hardly noticed my presence. She was happy playing with her little friends speaking a language foreign to me but one they all seemed to understand. But I got the message. It was as though she were saying, ``You left me this morning when I didn't want you to. Now I'm having fun, and I'm not quite ready to leave my friends.''
I picked her up, hugged her and received a wet, wide-mouthed kiss in return.
When the car stopped a few minutes later, Lana, used to our usual routine, exclaimed ``Home!''
I said, ``No. Park!''
The park is usually reserved for weekends when time is not an issue, and I am dressed more appropriately. Lana, loving this special place as she does, could hardly wait for me to get her out of the car.
I left my blazer, heels and hose in the car, and I took Lana' shoes off. We ran barefoot in the shaded sand area near the slides. She sat in my lap, and we both enjoyed the swing, the unrelenting summer sun welcoming the early evening breeze. We picked a few wildflowers, and she didn't try to eat them. We sat under a tree in the grass. Smiling her head off, she said, ``Hi bug!'' to a butterfly that flew by. Sounds like the perfect Hallmark ad, doesn't it?
This trip to the park was as much for me as it was for Lana that day. Perhaps more. I learned it can be a heck of a lot of fun to break up a routine and bend the rules a bit. I took some time out to smell the flowers and release the load of guilt I'd been carrying all day. I reveled in life's goodness. And I realized we all need a little sunshine on our faces every day, not just on weekends.
When we arrived home an hour later, Rob was just pulling into the driveway. He looked bewildered and asked, ``Where are your shoes? Why are your feet dirty? You've got grass stains on your dress. Are you OK, honey?''
``We're just fine, we were at the park,'' I said.
``What's for dinner, he asked. ``I'm starving.''
``How does an ice cream sundae grab you?'' ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Tammy Scott is a Chesapeake resident.
by CNB