I recently had the privilege of going on a very special date.
It was one of those great weekend afternoons where we decided to take advantage of a local attraction, then follow it up with a casual dinner at one of our favorite family restaurants in Matawan.
I threw on jeans and a sweat shirt, waited for my son to wake up from his nap, and we headed out the door for hours of fun, or as I like to call it, “Mommy-Dylan day.”
My return to work has been a huge adjustment in terms of my job description as a mother. Until Dec. 27, my first day back in the office, the world revolved around Dylan, and day-to-day life was planned according to his schedule.
I had heard the term “working-mother guilt” but never really experienced it until I dropped him off that first morning and thought to myself, “Am I doing the right thing?” That’s a subject I will most certainly delve into at a later date. But long story short, I am devoted to spending my off-days soaking up loads of quality time with my baby, hence the term “Mommy-Dylan day.”
Now, back to my date.
I was raised in Eatontown, and my parents were constantly looking for ways to entertain my brother and me. I think we tackled every family-friendly spot along the Jersey Shore and beyond, but one of the places we always returned to was the Monmouth Museum. I decided it was time to restart the tradition with my son, so we headed to Middletown for some educational exploration.
As exhausted as I was by the end of the trip, I definitely earned some cool points with my little man that day. The museum was everything I remembered and more: We dug for fossils, walked our way through a simulated “weather experience,” explored a rocket ship with control panels, and dove into an under-the-sea play area, complete with a waterfall, bridge, pond and more. Dylan had a blast, and so did I.
Returning to the museum for the first time in my adult life was really enlightening.
Dylan’s now the one playing in the sandbox and making a mess all over the floor, and I’m the one cleaning it up. Instead of leading the family through dark tunnels and up tiny sets of stairs, I follow behind, making sure my son plays safely.
Throughout the day, as I interacted with Dylan and recounted so many of the same steps I took as a child, I found myself thinking about how much these little “dates” made an imprint when I was the one in Dylan’s shoes.
As a working mother, it’s hard to find that balance between providing for your children financially, physically and emotionally. Although I’m just getting back into the swing of things, I don’t know if I will ever be 100 percent content with how the puzzle comes together.
Before we left the museum, Dylan kept pointing to the same aluminum slide that I rode countless times throughout the years, which I didn’t recognize at first, because it used to seem so steep and daunting. Now, as an adult, although the slide hasn’t changed, the circumstances surrounding my experience have. It doesn’t look so scary anymore, and I know that my son will always look forward to sliding down.
I guess I have to look at my new status as a working mother in the same way: As I grow into this evolving role, the puzzle pieces won’t seem so intimidating, and as time goes on, the parts will continue to slide into place.