I Don’t Know How She Does Two Playdates and a Dramaturgy Consult in One Day

About This Artist Caregiver:

I’m a cis white woman in her late thirties living in a small city in New England. I work full-time for an arts service organization and do freelance dramaturgy. To make more space for dramaturgy, I recently scaled back my “day job” to thirty-five hours a week on average. I can “bank” hours for weeks when freelance projects claim larger chunks of time. I live with my husband who also works full-time (Sunday-Thursday) in a field far-distant from theatre. We have a two-and-a-half-year-old daughter.

Village: Our daughter attends an awesome preschool from 8:30-2:45, Monday-Friday. Her grandparents (my husband’s parents) live literally one mile away from us, and they do school pick-up and watch her until 5:45 four days a week. (They also help on sporadic nights and weekends as requested.) We also have a handful of extended family members on both sides who live within driving distance (forty-five minutes to three hours away); we see them often, and they occasionally help with childcare in unique circumstances. We have gotten to know a few great babysitters as well.

Financial Impact: We live in a state with robust childcare subsidies, so we don’t pay full freight for preschool. We save an estimated $30,000 a year thanks to the subsidies for preschool and family-provided babysitting. As it is, roughly 10 percent of our expenses each month are related to our daughter, including childcare, new clothes (she keeps growing!), etc.

I took a modest pay cut to scale back my hours and haven’t fully earned it back from my freelance work (though I expect to next year). I also know that I’m missing out on artistic opportunities by not living in/near a major theatre city, but we wouldn’t have the same supports there that we do here.

Diary

Monday

I wake up shortly before 5:00 a.m., which is when my alarm would go off, so I decide to get up and get on with it. I started rising early when my daughter was younger and her sleep was unpredictable; though that period has thankfully ended, I keep doing it. Having a dedicated hour or two every day without anyone needing anything from me is incredibly precious. After waking up (tea, crossword puzzles, etc.), I shower and, since my husband is awake by the time I’m done, I thrash around in our room and start packing for this week’s in-person staff retreat.

At 7:10 I wake my daughter up for school. My husband and daughter eat breakfast together, and I French braid her hair. I never thought I’d be a hairdo-doing mom, but it’s great at keeping tangles at bay (and allegedly prevents lice? Fingers crossed!). I take her to school while my husband heads off to work. I return home to clean up breakfast and finish packing, and then it’s time to hit the road. I had hoped to do more tidying before leaving, but that’s also what they’ll put on my tombstone.

After a long, rainy drive, I arrive at the staff retreat. We’re generously being hosted by a theatre I worked at for several years but haven’t been back in nearly a decade. More than anywhere else, this was where my artistic identity was forged, and, upon returning, I am hit with a desire to be back here in an artistic capacity (rather than an administrative one) and to have my family with me to see me doing that work.

But there’s no time to dwell. My colleagues and I dive straight into long, fruitful meetings. We work right up until dinner and then continue the conversation more casually.

I am hit with a desire to be back here in an artistic capacity (rather than an administrative one) and to have my family with me to see me doing that work.

I want to call home, especially around my daughter’s bedtime, but I’ve learned from previous trips to let whoever’s with her decide whether to call. If she’s happy without me, no need to remind her of my absence. Plus, my daughter has been going through a mom-preference phase lately, so I’m glad that she and my husband are getting some serious bonding time.

It’s hard to wind down after the excitement of the day, but I do a crossword and fall asleep around 9:30.

Tuesday

I’m up before my alarm again (still set for 5:00). After tea and puzzles, I dive into a freelance writing/curating project I’ve been working on. My excitement about the project wakes me up, and before I know it, the sun has risen. If I want to run, I need to stop working right away. It took me much longer than I would have liked to find a postpartum exercise routine, and, though I don’t run as far, as fast, or as frequently as I’d like, I try to prioritize getting out a few times a week. Once I’m back from my run, I FaceTime my husband and daughter while they eat breakfast and get ready for school/work. A quick shower, a little more dramaturgy work, checking in with my daughter’s school about an early pickup next week for dentist appointment, and then it’s 9:30 and back into the staff retreat.

It is a big day at the staff retreat, with a lot of good discussion and a sense that we’re progressing towards more impactful work. During a short break before dinner, I call my husband. An ongoing health issue of his has flared up, so we strategize about that and, since we currently get our health insurance through the marketplace, fret about the potential loss of subsidies. Once he hangs up, I read a listicle of easy, family-friendly dinners and save a couple to try. Then, it’s off to dinner and post-dinner hanging out. I stay up later than I usually would but still bail before everyone else.

Wednesday

It’s raining when I wake up, but after a little packing and some dramaturgy work, I go for a run. Then, another breakfast FaceTime with the fam.

There are a couple more hours left in the staff retreat. Afterward, I leave the theatre, grab lunch at an old favorite restaurant, and hit the road. My husband drives a lot for his job, and today our driving times overlap, so we have a good, long chat. It’s nice to debrief about retreat and generally catch up with a degree of focus and clarity that can be hard to find when our daughter is demanding our attention.

I arrive home around 4:30, but my in-laws encourage me to pick up my daughter at our usual time, so I have about an hour to unpack, prep dinner, and clean. (The exhaustion in my bones tells me that if I sit, I won’t be able to get up, so I focus on chores instead.)

I pick up my daughter at 5:45, and we play until around 6:30 when my husband gets home and we all eat dinner. Despite the good bonding time during my absence, my daughter’s preference for me continues and my husband is disinvited from the bedtime routine. After I finish putting her to bed, my husband does dishes while I pack lunch for school the next day. Then I stare at my phone and crash pretty quickly.

Thursday

A slow morning (though yes, still up at 5:00). After tea, puzzles, and a shower, I make pancakes for my daughter. She insists on cereal for breakfast but then eats a couple pancakes on the drive to school. At drop-off, her teacher shares that my daughter really missed me, which causes a fresh wave of guilt. On my way home, I stop and get my hair cut. I start some laundry, clean up from breakfast, and sit down at my desk around 10:00.

I have lots to catch up on, but it’s quiet so I do what I call “the working mom’s pomodoro method”: I focus intently for a set period and then, instead of taking a proper break, I do a short chore or household task before diving back into my work. Rinse, repeat. I suspect that other work-from-homers similarly fold chores in and around their workflow; I’ve found that my rigid structure for this helps me focus on work, avoid drowning in “life admin,” and return to my desk refreshed after each break.

Given the busyness of the retreat days, I log off earlier than normal. After I finish prepping dinner, I respond to a teaching inquiry and re-read a play I’ve been asked to give feedback on.

I pick up my daughter at 5:45. She plays while I fold and put away the day’s laundry. She takes a bath after dinner. After she goes to sleep, my husband and I watch part of an episode of The Great British Baking Show.

Most of my script consulting work happens virtually but this writer lives nearby, so I’m excited to meet in person.

Friday

I start the day by preparing notes on the play I re-read yesterday and shoot off a quick email to confirm that we’re still on for tomorrow (Saturday). The playwright sent some great questions in advance of our meeting, so I’m looking forward to it.

My husband doesn’t work on Fridays, and his usual Friday morning martial arts class is cancelled, so he volunteers to take our daughter to school. As they’re leaving and with no prompting, my daughter tells me, “I love you so much. I’ll see you after school,” and I totally melt. I use this unexpected free time to get in a run and am at my desk around 10:00. It is another quiet day, but I know next week is going to be very busy, so I try to get ahead. Over the course of the day, I text with my parents and two of my brothers-in-law; they’ll do some childcare next month while my husband’s parents are away for a trip, and I am very grateful. 

My husband picks our daughter up from school and takes her to swim class. I’m finished with work by the time they return, and we have a lovely evening playing, eating dinner, and getting our daughter ready for bed (my husband is grudgingly permitted to audit the proceedings). My husband then does chores while on a phone call with an old friend, so I do a little reading and turn in early.

Saturday

I head out for a run once the sun comes up. Otherwise, it’s a slow, lazy start to the day.

Mid-morning, my daughter and I walk downtown to meet up with a friend and her daughter with whom we used to do a nanny share. We grab coffee and pastry, let our kids run around in a local park, and then head to a bookstore for a “spooky” story time. It’s really nice to catch up and fun to see how much the kids have grown.

Back home, my daughter naps, and my husband is on point for when she wakes up. I head out to meet this playwright I’ve been preparing to consult with. Most of my script consulting work happens virtually but this writer lives nearby, so I’m excited to meet in person. After waiting awkwardly at the cafe, I learn that despite yesterday’s confirmation email, she got the date wrong and thinks we’re meeting tomorrow (Sunday). I tell her that that’s not an option for me. My husband works Sunday, and finding a last-minute sitter doesn’t make sense. We reschedule for next Saturday instead, and I return home disappointed.

After that debacle, and after my daughter wakes up from her nap, we put on her Halloween costume and head to a Halloween party hosted by a local family resource center where we meet up with friends. Full of crafts, toys, and games, it’s festive mayhem, and our daughter has a blast.

Then, it’s time for dinner followed by my daughter’s bedtime. My husband and I finish our episode of The Great British Baking Show, and then we go to sleep.

Sunday

Sunday is our most lowkey day. My husband heads off to work. My daughter and I go to church in the morning and then grocery shop in the afternoon after her nap. She watches Sesame Street while I unload the groceries and prepare dinner. My husband is practically falling asleep while I read a bedtime story to our daughter, so after she’s asleep and the chores are done, we crash pretty early.

I’ve been traveling for work about once every month or two for a while now; this week really highlighted how strong my support systems are and what a well-oiled machine we’ve become.

Reflections:

Spotlight on artistry: Being at a staff retreat (and being away from my normal routine) reminded me how impactful and energizing it can be to begin my day with my own artistic efforts (writing, script reading, etc.) before diving into the work of my administrative role. I’m going to try to continue to do this more frequently, even when home and harried.

Spotlight on caregiving: We haven’t lived in this area that long, plus I work full time, have a toddler, and am generally quite introverted, so making friends has been slow. Having two different social outings (that I had initiated!) on Saturday felt like a major win.

Spotlight on support systems and resources: My husband and in-laws get major kudos here. I missed everyone a lot while I was away but felt fully empowered to focus on retreat and didn’t worry for a second. I’ve been traveling for work about once every month or two for a while now; this week really highlighted how strong my support systems are and what a well-oiled machine we’ve become. (Plus, unlike previous work trips, I didn’t experience any travel delays and everyone stayed healthy; a miracle!)

Outside of my home/village, shoutouts to:

• The Subtext Podcast from American Theatre, for keeping me company on my long drives to and from the staff retreat
• “18 Quick and Easy Kid-Friendly Dinners That Grown-Ups Will Love, Too,” for keeping me from getting bored of one of my favorite non-theatre activities (cooking)
• Dad Braids, for helping this clumsy-finger mom keep her daughter’s hair looking good

A note from the cared for or co-caregiver: In the weeks since I kept this diary, my daughter has said with a frequency that saddens me, “I missed you while you were on your trip, Momma.” So, though she cannot read and respond to the diary itself, I suspect that she might feel that it doesn’t fully capture the impact of my absence.