Mom Won't Be Here. Everybody Panic!

The New York Times recently published a piece on moms traveling for work, which was, as Carolyn Hax rightly called it (I know, I quote her all the friggin’ time, but I can’t help it because she’s brilliant), “stunningly sexist.” Her beef was that the article (wrongfully) treated the concept of moms traveling for work as new and “exotic” while also minimizing the domestic contributions of dads.

So, obviously I read the article. And, duh, I totally agreed with her. (Article summary: How moms hyper prepare everything because they feel guilty and apparently their husbands/co-parents are inept.)

Now, when I was growing up, my mom traveled now and then for work, and I admit it wasn't terribly fun from the kid perspective. Dad let the house fall into total tornado-zone chaos and made ME clean it all up because (and I shit you not) I was "the only girl in the house and Mom isn't here to do it." (Anyone out there shocked I majored in women's studies? No? Okay then.) Oh, and then there was the week Dad made my brother and me eat venison sloppy joes for 3 days straight. (He denies all of this, by the way.) So, okay. I can see how some guys aren't so great at domestic stuff, but perhaps the NYT article would've been more relevant in, say, 1992.

I choose to believe that this generation of men is more domestically tuned in than 20 years ago.

And Chris seems to reinforce this crazy concept of mine, so that's enough anecdotal evidence for me.

In one way, the timing of this silly article couldn’t have been better. At this point in my career, I travel for work a whopping one time per year. For four days. That’s it. Of course, this annual trip occurs this coming week. How am I preparing?

Aside from the actual business-related WORK, 10% of my effort has revolved around how I will manage to keep the fetus I’m growing fed (I’ll be booked for—literally—16 hours straight the first 2 days, and not a single schedule block involves breakfast, lunch, or dinner), and the remaining 90% is focused on what the hell I’m going to wear. I have to pack a grab bag that ranges from dressy receptions to professional to jeans for manual grunt work, and some of these ensembles must coordinate with the heinous company shirts.

And I’m going to be about 16 weeks pregnant by the end of the trip.

Translation: I’m having great trouble getting the right sizes of clothes to coordinate in the ways I need them to.

Translation #2: All my prep work is about ME.

See, I’m doing zero prep work on Chris or Charlotte’s behalves. Chris is a really good parent. I don’t need to freeze meals. I don’t need to write down Charlotte’s schedule. I don’t need to give Chris the pediatrician’s name or explain where the dude’s office is.

Because Chris is capable.

When Charlotte was 11 weeks old and I had to briefly travel to Orlando for work, I froze every drop of breast milk I could produce and created a hyper-formal schedule of which feedings Chris should supplement with formula. I set out—AND LABELED—outfits AND back-up outfits (Charlotte was quite the spit-upper), informed the school (which she had been attending for about 3 days at that point) that I would be gone and that they should call Chris (like they wouldn’t have otherwise?) if something came up, and so on.

In Orlando, Chris didn’t call me once. He knew what to do.

Boy, that was a wake-up call. Shame on me for treating Chris like an incapable parent! Bad mommy! I mean, really. There’s nothing that I know that Chris doesn’t also know. He just does things differently—like stretch bath night a day or two past when it should occur, or give Charlotte a few more pre-prepared items for meals than I would. But nothing that actually, like, matters.

So, last year when I had to leave for 4 days to Philadelphia, I just left. I missed Charlotte terribly, but I knew Chris had everything under control. I was right.

This year, as I prepare to go to Indianapolis for 4 days (fun fact: Indy pretty much renovated the city for the Super Bowl, which means it’s apparently much less lame now than I expected), I have total faith in Chris’s ability to cope with whatever his daughter throws his way.

And next year? Why, next year's work trip is in San Diego . . . . and I’m thinking a cute little brown-eyed girl might be due for a break from her baby brother or sister and ready for a Charlotte-Mommy trip to Southern California.