There's no crying in baseball!

Ever since I had my first baby in 1997, I've always worked outside the home. I took my three month maternity leave and was back to work while I was still wearing elastic band waistlines. Whether it was the need for insurance benefits, my added salary or my own sanity, I never seriously considered staying home with the kids. I admit it, I love to work. Not every day and not all the time, but I do for the most part love it. Whenever a new study comes out warning of the long term ramifications of children in daycare, I naturally second guess my decisions.
One time I confided to a girlfriend of mine (a stay at home mom): "You know, I have these images of you with your kids, laying on the grass and making shapes out of the clouds, and crafting homemade macaroni necklaces together."
She laughed. "Hell no. My house is always messy, I feel like I'm always snapping at the kids and it seems like we're always broke. I imagine you in a fancy office wearing cute outfits and drinking gourmet coffee."
That made ME laugh. "Not quite," I told her. "I sit in a tiny cubicle all day, trying to schedule personal appointments like mammograms on the phone without a co-worker hearing. Then I go home to a messy house and my kids have turned into little monkeys as soon as I walk through the door, demanding to know when dinner is."
Somehow we both felt better after we confided our truths.
Throughout my many jobs at the many companies I've worked at, I've had the opportunity to work for both male and female managers. I have found that some people have fierce loyalties to a particular gender. Some of my best friends will swear up and down that "female managers are the WORST." While others claim just the opposite.
I've been pretty lucky... for the most part I've had some pretty great managers, regardless of their sex. I have noticed a few distinct differences: Male managers tend to just say it like it is, and female managers tend to be a little more touchy-feely. Not all, but most of mine have been this way. And both styles have their benefits and drawbacks.
One time when I was a regular old customer service rep, I found myself in a precarious situation. I had a one-year old daughter, I was pregnant, and I was "fired" from my daycare. I was stressed beyond belief. I'm a firm believer that nothing stresses out a working mother more than a bad daycare situation. At the time I felt like I had to rush in my decision to find a new daycare... it was busy at work, tax season, and I felt like I was having to hurry through one of the most important decisions a working parent could make. I vowed to myself that if I was ever in a management position I would never make a mother feel that amount of stress.
Throughout my career I have had several opportunities to manage teams. I've found that a happy mother = a happy worker. I've only had one or two employees take advantage of that.
Now I work as a project manager without any direct reports. It's been heavenly. No refereeing drama between two employees, no trying to cover vacation shortages, no doing annual performance reviews... But as a result of not having to BE a manager, I get to HAVE a manager. And we're different, my manager and I. He's more of a detail-oriented type of boss while I'm much more hands off. He's a good manager, just has a different style than I do.
Today was just the pinnacle of a stressful, busy month for me at work. I've been under a lot of pressure to finish almost three times my normal monthly workload, with clients that have been somewhat challenging. And in a terse i.m. exchange with my manager, he laid out exactly what he thought I was doing wrong and I what I needed to do differently.
I stared at the message, completely incensed. The NERVE of him...
Then I marched into a bathroom stall and professionally bawled my eyes out.
I stayed in there for awhile, not wanting any evidence that I resembled a 12 year old who missed a Justin Bieber concert. And I know what would have happened if he had any inkling of my reaction. I would have walked out of the bathroom, he would have seen my red, puffy face and he would have been completely befuddled. He'd only been trying to "help."
He would have turned into Tom Hanks from "A League of Their Own."
"Are you crying?" he would have asked me. "There's no crying in baseball!"
So I dried my eyes and went back to my desk. I called my oldest daughter and told her I'd be at work late.
She told me, "That's ok, Mom. I'm already making dinner for everyone."
Ahhh... music to my ears.
That makes me love my little monkeys even more.