A year ago this month, I put on scrubs for the first time since before the twins were born, drove to the office, and cried in the parking lot for about four minutes before walking in. Theo and June were eleven months old. I'd written out the daycare math over and over, and three days a week was the answer. It made sense on paper. It did not feel like it made sense that morning.
Now they're a couple of weeks from turning two, and I've been thinking about what the last year has actually been like. Not the spreadsheet version. The real one.
What a work day looks like
Monday, Wednesday and Friday go something like this:
5:45, my alarm. I get about twenty minutes alone with coffee before anyone else is up, and I guard those twenty minutes like a dragon guards gold. 6:15, the twins wake up. Diapers, breakfast, getting dressed, which is really just a wrestling match with two small people who have opinions about socks. Dan leaves at 7:00 for his first call. I load the twins into the minivan at 7:25 and drop them at daycare by 7:45. I'm at the office by 8:10.
Then I spend eight hours being a totally different person. I talk to adults. I finish sentences. I eat lunch sitting down. I know that sounds dramatic, but after a year, it's still what I notice most.
Pickup is at 5:00. Home by 5:30. Dinner, bath, books, bed by 7:30. Then I sit on the couch and stare at the wall for a while.
What a home day looks like
Tuesday, Thursday and the weekends are the opposite. No schedule except naps. Park, library story time, grocery store, laundry, more park. On Thursdays my mom drives up from San Jose and helps, which is the only reason I get anything like a real to-do list done that day.
I used to think the home days would feel like the "easy" ones. They don't. They're just a different kind of tired. Work tired is my feet. Home tired is my brain.
The good surprises
- I like my job more than I did before. Before kids, it was just my job. Now it's also three days where I feel competent at something measurable. You can't really measure toddler parenting in a day. You can measure a clean set of teeth.
- The twins love daycare. June runs in without looking back. Theo takes a minute, then he's fine. The teachers have taught them songs I've never heard, and they sing them in the bath.
- Dan and I got better at splitting things. When I was home full-time, I did most of it by default. Now we have a real system for who does drop-off on which days, who cooks, who handles bath.
- The money helps. Even after daycare, the income gives us breathing room we didn't have. I wrote about the daycare math back in December; my paycheck is a big part of why our budget works at all.
The harder parts
I'd be lying if I said it's all balanced and lovely.
Sick days are brutal. Two kids at daycare means someone is always getting something, and a fever means a 24-hour stay-home rule. Dan can sometimes flex his schedule, but not in the heat of summer or the middle of a cold snap, which are exactly his busy seasons. I've had to cancel patients more than I'd like, and I feel guilty every time.
I also miss things. Daycare sent a video of June's first real sentence ("more water, please," very formal) and I watched it on my phone in the break room. It's fine. It's also not.
And some weeks the three days feel like five. When a shift runs long or the office is short a hygienist, the whole balance tips over and I'm scrambling for pickup.
What I'd tell myself a year ago
If I could go back to that parking lot, I'd say a few things:
- The crying goes away faster than you think. By week three, it was mostly just the morning rush I dreaded.
- It's okay to like being at work. That doesn't make you less of a mom.
- Keep one weekday evening with no plans. It saves your sanity.
- Build a sick-day backup plan before you need it, not at 6 a.m. with a thermometer in your hand.
- You can change the plan. Three days isn't a life sentence. It's just what works right now.
For now, it still works. Some days better than others. Ask me again next year.
