preschool.
But then came a call from Susan Sher, my former mentor and colleague at
city hall who was now general counsel and a vice president at the University of
Chicago Medical Center, where we’d just had Sasha. The center had a brand-
new president whom everyone was raving about, and one of his top priorities was
improving community outreach. He was looking to hire an executive director for
community affairs, a job that seemed almost custom-made for me. Was I
interested in interviewing?
I debated whether to even send in my résumé. It sounded like a great
opportunity, but I’d just basically talked myself into the idea that I was—that we
all were—better off with my staying home. In any event, this was not a moment
of high glamour for me, not a time I could really imagine blow-drying my hair
and putting on a business suit. I was up several times a night to nurse Sasha,
which put me behind on sleep and therefore sanity. Even as I was still rather
fanatically devoted to neatness, I was losing the battle. Our condo was strewn
with baby toys, toddler books, and packages of diaper wipes. Any trip outside the
house involved a giant stroller and an unfashionable diaper bag full of the
essentials: a Ziploc of Cheerios, a few everyday toys, and an extra change of
clothes—for everyone.
But motherhood had also brought with it a set of wonderful friendships. I’d
managed to connect with a group of professional women and form a kind of
chatty, hands-on social cluster. Most of us were deep into our thirties and
working in all sorts of careers, from banking and government to nonprofits. Many
of us were having children at the same time. The more children we had, the
tighter we grew. We saw one another nearly every weekend. We looked after
each other’s babies, went on group outings to the zoo, and bought bulk tickets
for Disney on Ice. Sometimes on a Saturday afternoon, we just set the whole
pack of kids loose in somebody’s playroom and cracked open a bottle of wine.
Each one of these women was educated, ambitious, dedicated to her kids,
and generally as bewildered as I was about how to put it all together. When it
came to working and parenting, we were doing it every sort of way. Some of us
worked full-time, some part-time, some stayed at home with their kids. Some
allowed their toddlers to eat hot dogs and corn chips; others served whole-grain
everything. A few had super-involved husbands; others had husbands like mine,
who were oversubscribed and away a lot. Some of my friends were incredibly
happy; others were trying to make changes, to attempt a different sort of balance.