I used to be a writer. For more than twenty years, I negotiated the stress of deadlines, difficult bosses and office politics with good manners and restraint. I took myself to be accomplished, self-possessed and a pillar of composure under pressure.
I didn’t know what pressure is.
Now I stay home looking after our four-year-old. When asked if I work, I say, “Harder than I ever have in my life.” I haven’t slept since I was seven months pregnant. I cry at the drop of a sippy cup. At times I have lost my temper. Often I have lost my train of thought. My equilibrium? Out the window. How do I doubt my ability? Let me count the ways: as a parent, as a wife, as a human being.
When my son was four-and-a-half months old and I was well into my forties, I dropped him on his head. (more…)
