Pulled

Right now, pulled refers to my back, which I threw completely out of whack yesterday simply by taking a single step to the right.  No, I didn't trip during my step.  I didn't fall or twist or turn or in any way make an awkward move.  I took a step and...pop.

Of course, this unfortunate even took place at 6:05 on a Tuesday morning.  I was completely dressed and made up for work.  My school bag, lunch, the kids' daycare bags were all in the van, ready to go.  When I felt that my back had gone, I thought, "Take some Advil and push through it."  At 6 am, the substitute call in system shuts down, making the idea of being absent from my job as a secondary English teacher much more complicated.  I could hear my son moving about in his room, waiting for me to focus his movements on preparing for school.

I limped up the stairs, opened his door with a bright "Good Morning!" and encouraged him towards the bathroom to begin the scrubbing process.  It was then that the truly irrepairable damage was done.  I stepped back and tripped over the kid's garbage truck toy, tensing my whole body to prepare for the impact.  The nail in my back's coffin.

Then the manic rush began: calling school to request a sub, calling hubby to ask him to come home to take the kiddoes to school, calling my besties (conveniently, also my co-workers) to arrange for sub plans. 

In this particular instance, the pull was literally in my SI joint, but figuratively between my own health and my responsibility to my students.  Push through, putting my own health at risk of worsening, or take a last minute sick day and leave my students with a substitute.  Putting myself first, which turned out to be the only choice as I could not walk or sit or stand that day or the next, I feel horribly guilty for not fulfilling my committment as a teacher.  

Usually, the pull in my life is between my job and my children.  And, I'm usually put in this position due to the irony of daycare.  My children attend daycare in order that I can go to work.  At daycare, my children pick up evey virus known to man (and some that aren't).  As a result, my children can't attend daycare, and I can't go to work.

In this typical situation, I feel torn: choose my biological children (choose to stay home and nurse my lil sicklies) or choose my students (pump my kiddoes full of Advil and send them to daycare, feel horribly guilty all day, and rush out of work at the end of the day just praying that I haven't made things worse). 

There is no way to win.  Being a mother and a teacher means that, in these situations, I cannot win. 

What do other working mothers do in this situation?

I know that I have a hard time convincing myself that there wasn't something I could have done differently to make sure that everyone (exclusing myself, of course) would win.   All I can do is repeat my mantra, "I'm doing the best that I can."  And, I can hope that both my employer and my children believe that to be true.