Modern Woman On-the-Go!

I have two jobs. Only one of them pays me. And, to be honest and objective, it doesn't pay me that well, but it pays me enough to get by and save for my future and the baby's education. And it comes with health insurance.

Health insurance is worth its weight in gold. Except insurance doesn't really weigh anything, so that analogy doesn't really work. Although, on third thought (yes, we are changing our minds that many times in the span of three sentences) health insurance comes with a lot of paperwork, and paperwork is heavy.

Health insurance is worth the weight of its paperwork in gold.

Moving on.

This job that pays the bills is a good job. I don't mind the work. I like the people 

well enough. I support wholeheartedly the practices and missions of the business.

But I have another job. In the seamy underbelly of the internet lives a site called ThirdCoast Digest. And it is there that I slave away in obscurity, writing and editing theater reviews, previewing theatrical occurrences, and (only recently, mind you) writing full-fledged features. I also post blogs (complete with pictures) for our resident rogue agent, who is too busy being roguish and agent-y to do it herself. I also mine through 100s and 100s of announcements and press releases in any given month. I'm not really exaggerating with the 100s. Milwaukee has a thriving arts community.

However, this job is time-consuming. It's probably a 20-hour per week job in and of itself. But I already have a full 40-hour per week job.

Now, were I not to have this adorable, wriggly, loving and wonderful thing called a baby, I could probably work 60 or 70 hours a week without breaking a sweat and still have a kick-ass time at the bars several nights a week. I've got no problem working. One might say that I am a work-a-holic in the making.

But I have got this adorable, wriggly, loving and wonderful thing called a baby.

And I want to adore her and love her and wriggle with her and wonder at her. Her arrival has definitely stopped my fall into the pit of a-holism (work-). She's my bungee cord. My stop-cable. My belay-line.

I'm not Wonder Woman. This is a hard realization for me. I want to do EVERYTHING. I've always wanted to do everything, and I've always had the time. Now I have to sacrifice bits of what I want to do, and it's a bitter pill to swallow. I'm not as fabulous as I pretend to be.