This 'Workweek Widow' Understands the Possibility of Everything

This post is inspired by the SVMoms book club choice for this month, The Possibility of Everything by Hope Edelman. The book details one mom's parenting, marriage and faith as she seeks a cure to her daughter's disruptive imaginary friend, culminating in a wonderous trip to Belize to see a shaman.

From the very beginning of this book I connected with the author, and not only as a mother who would do anything for her child, but as what another friend of mine refers to as a "workweek widow." Moms who parent alone during the week while their husbands travel for work or work long enough hours that they're out of the house before the kids awake and return after the kids are in bed. My hubby and I joke that he should start a weekend dad blog for other dads in the same boat, but that it'd probably sound like he was divorced. Pages 81-83 of The Possibility of Everything were nearly word-for-word stripped from the stressful times in my life. In particular, two excerpted lines shot an arrow directly to my heart because I've had the same conversation and the exact same thoughts:

on page 81-

"'Can you come?'

There's a slight pause at the other end of the line, just long enough for me to regret having asked.

'I'll try,' he says."

and then on page 82

"In a few hours, after I calm down, I'll have the good sense to wonder why it is that when Uzi says, "I'll try," he means he'll try but I hear him saying, "I won't."

I haven't encountered with my son the situation the author experiences with her daughter, but there have been a handful of times - usually surrounding a move or surgery - that my world was crashing around me and I was despearate, and when I appealed to my husband, his response was "I'll see what I can do" or "I'll try." Sometimes he's not able to join me or come diffuse the situation. I knew in those situations that he wanted to help, but was putting a presentation or meeting or conference call ahead of me, our family's needs and our son's needs. Perhaps that's why his "I'll try" response irks me so much. Surely I don't have the option of good intentions, there's only me DOING. I can't say "I'll see what I can do" when preschool calls to tell me my son's sick. I HAVE to skip a spa lunch in the city to stay home w/ the kiddo on a snow day. I can't merely "try." The buck stops with me, and my husband's or son's needs take precedence over whatever else I have going on at the time that they need me.

This wouldn't be such a big deal to me if this is what I was expecting with my life, but it's not what I was expecting. I assumed I would continue working in an office, the kiddo would be in daycare and my hubby and I would both negotiate who's turn it was to leave early when needed, and we'd be home to eat dinner as a family most nights, with time each night to clean up after dinner, or tackle home projects and discuss travel, work and home plans, make decisions about Li'l Boo's school and activities...but this isn't what our life is like. I eat dinner with the kiddo in the living room while watching TV because I'm so exhausted from multitasking as a mom, a friend and a writer and marketer all day that I just want to chill. Or because my work notes, samples and flash drives and Li'l Boo's craft projects and school papers are strewn all over the kitchen table and I don't feel like sliding it all of onto the floor so we can eat at the table.

My phone starts ringing with texts from my hubby about 5:30 or 6 updating me on his plans for one last meeting or dinner, a game, a speaking panel, a show, drinks, whatever he has before he hops a bus, train or car home. I've grown beyond wishing he'd be home so we could do what the experts advise us to do and eat as a family to discuss our days each night. I've given up eating a late dinner with him as it was just too unreliable. Anything around the home that requires our attention: replacing the dishwasher, raking leaves, cleaning gutters, fixing the bathroom pipes, painting the bedroom, etc. - all of this takes place on the weekend. ALL of it. On Saturday and Sunday, when we're already running around to weddings or parties or cultural events or shopping for family things or gifts. You know, when I'm trying to catch up on my missed deadlines from the week and he's trying to wade through emails and spend time with Li'l Boo.

I remember someone asking me why my husband and I never attend our town's newcomer events and I didn't really have an answer at the time, but honestly, in the brief amount of time that I have to spend with my hubby, I want to spend it with him and the kiddo. I want to make memories of us as a family: whether it's watching a movie together on the sofa or all of us visiting the museum exhibit I'm covering for a site, or playing a video game I'm reviewing, or cleaning out a closet. If we only have 24 hours a week to see each other, I want to make the most of it for my son, and for the sake of my marriage.

Because of all of this, I've agreed to doing or trying drastic measures to get through my day parenting alone. I've signed Li'l Boo up for activities every day of the week, signed him up to attend two preschools the same year - one morning, one afternoon - what some may consider crazy things - to give myself some time to not be "on" responsibility-wise, or to give myself a break for that 45 minute long soccer class so I can just "be" without having him interrupt me or ask questions every 10 minutes.

I wonder then if this is how the author became open to the possibility of everything - if her life turned out so different than how she imagined it, that she loved her daughter so much but was in such unchartered territory parenting alone most of the time, that she was desperate to try anything to give her some sanity. She didn't have family near her to call on or to visit when she wanted. 'Cuz I've been there. I've tried many things that I wouldn't have thought I'd do with the kiddo because I don't have any help or support on a daily basis in my life. I wonder if Hope Edelman hadn't lived a life of a workweek widow if she'd have been as open to the possibility of everything? I'm not sure I'd have as open a mind if I had more daily in-person emotional support and back-up parenting resources at my disposal than I do.

Full Disclosure: I received a copy of The Possibility of Everything as a participant in the book club.