Robert Reich; My Family Leave Act

For several years now, I’ve been trying to find a better balance between work and family, and failing miserably. I’ve only just understood why. It’s the word ”balance” that threw me. I’ve always assumed that a better balance meant more of what you really want to do and less of what you don’t. For me, and perhaps many others, that’s just not possible.

Sure, I’ve met lots of people who’ve found a better balance through doing less work and gaining more family. That may be hard to achieve economically, but for some it’s at least possible. Live cheaper, scale back, give up the rat race.

I’ve even met a few people who’ve done the reverse. For them, a better balance means more work and less family. They love their job and find the world of spouse and kids harder to manage. So they’ve hired a baby sitter, gratefully sent the kids off to college or got a divorce. Now their energies are happily focused on work.

I know someone who found balance by cutting back on both. She simply needed more time for herself. She had had it with a boss who kept piling it on and a family that relied on her to do everything for them. Finding her balance required setting some firm limits.

All these people found a better balance between work and family by devoting more time and energy to what they really value and less to what they don’t.

But what if you’re like me and, I suspect, many others? You love your job and you love your family, and you desperately want more of both. You’re doubly blessed, in a way. Whatever you get of either should be a delight. How dare complain? But here’s the rub: There’s no way of getting work and family into better balance. You’re inevitably shortchanging one or the other, or both. You’re never able to do enough of what you truly value.

Don’t tell me to improve my time-management skills. I’ve done that, and I’m scheduled to the teeth. Teen- age boys don’t need you on schedule. A spouse doesn’t share intimacies on command. Work doesn’t always present new opportunities or crises just when you block out time for them. Throw in a boss who has a good idea every two minutes and you can forget the schedule for good.

In the end, you simply can’t do more of both. There’s no room for better ”balance.” The metaphor is all wrong. You have to make a painful choice.

Just the other day, I spoke with a former colleague who had faced the same dilemma. He had a wonderful job, which he couldn’t get enough of. Every night when he left work, he kicked himself that he didn’t have more time to devote to it. But he also was deeply attached to his family. His oldest daughter was two years shy of college, and my colleague wanted time to be with her. So what did he do? He quit that wonderful job. He’s still deeply pained by the decision. But now he tells me he should have quit even earlier. His daughter has left the nest, and two years wasn’t nearly enough.

One night last week, I planned to be home to say good night to my two boys. I hadn’t been home in almost a week. When I phoned Sam, the younger of the two, to tell him that I might not make it in time for bed, he said that was O.K. ”But will you wake me up when you come in, Dad?” he asked.

I explained that it might be early in the morning and he needed his sleep. ”I’d like it if you’d wake me,” he responded. ”I just want to know you’re here with us.”

I have the best job I’ve ever had and probably ever will. No topping it. Can’t get enough of it. I also have the best family I’ll ever have, and I can’t get enough of them. Finding a better balance? I’ve been kidding myself into thinking there is one. The metaphor doesn’t fit. I had to choose.

I told the boss I’ll be leaving, and explained why. Don’t know quite what I’ll do next. He understands. He has the same dilemma, and will for at least the next four years.