Let's be honest, people

The older I get, the more I appreciate honesty. Just tell me how you feel. Don't sugar-coat it. Don't beat around the bush. And don't tell someone else and hope s/he will tell me. I'm sure a direct correlation can be made between this wish for no-nonsense communication demands and the beat-down, tired-to-the-core daily existence that is motherhood. Folks, I just don't have the energy to figure out what you're trying to tell me. Just spit it out. OK, so I might be a little miffed. I might not like what you have to say. I might not respond. I might stomp away. I might fester. I might. But at least things will be out in the open. And I don't tend to hold grudges forever.

Back to work tomorrow, and I'm bringing Em for what will be one of her last times in the office. She is getting more demanding, is starting to squirm around a bit on her tummy and has gotten herself wedged under her porta-crib and my desk, and she is growing louder. The kid has lungs. She rarely cries loudly, but she does make herself known. I attribute this to the fact that she's the third, and the other two are LOUD. She has learned from them. Already. That, and she knows that if she wants to be heard above their din she's gotta go all out. So. The office that I work in is on the top floor of a four-story building, which also happens to have an open staircase. Sound travels in this building. But let me back up. 

Em is the third baby I have brought to work with me. And I know I am EXTREMELY lucky to have had the ability to have my babies with me at work. I have a supervisor who is generous and understanding and has gone out of her way to allow my babies in our shared office. And all of the other folks who work on my floor have been more than welcoming to my offspring. I am grateful to these colleagues for all of their smiles and baby talk. As I understand it now, there is no formal policy about bringing one's baby to my place of employment. I do know that I am not the only one with such an arrangement. I am one of the lucky ones whose job responsibilities and work environment and great people allow it to be possible. But still, I don't want to take things for granted. And I don't want to take advantage of this generosity. And on the days that the babies have been with me I always feel a teeny tiny rock in the pit of my stomach. A near-queasiness. A bit of a defensive gut. Even though I have received nothing but oohs and ahhs in the babies' presences, I always thought that somewhere someone might wonder what the deal is. And now, I have what I always suspected I might: a disgruntled employee in my midst. 

Someone in the building complained about my loud baby. She is loud. It's true. And I do try to close the door when she starts ramping it up. There have been a few times, though, that I haven't been quick enough. Her bellows have been heard throughout the floors below. It was bound to happen, I suppose. And I do understand that perhaps those baby sounds, ones not expected to be heard in a workplace, could come as a bit of a surprise. Could even be disruptive. I'm pretty reasonable. I really get it! But, alas, the complaint did not come directly to me. The complaint was made to the director of human resources. And then it trickled down the organizational chart until it got to my supervisor, who then had to talk to me. Now I feel like I've put her in an uncomfortable position. Isn't she the one who has encouraged me to bring these babies in? It shouldn't be a big deal, really. Em's days are numbered. She's about the same age the other two were when they stopped coming in anyway. But the more I think about this complaint, the more frustrated I become. I don't know any details at all. I don't know if someone had a hangover and the damn baby on the floor above was aggravating a headache. I don't know if an important meeting or phone call was interrupted by one of Em's occasional outbursts. I don't know if someone just doesn't like the idea that I bring my baby to work. I just don't know. And that is what really gets me. I'm being asked, my supervisor (with whom I get along very well, thank you) is being asked, to remedy the situation, and yet I don't even know what the problem is. I just wish said person would have walked up the stairs and come to me. At least then I would know the scoop. And I would be able to respond without being on the defensive. And I wouldn't feel so buried in a bureaucratic workplace. It just really gets me that this had to become so very complicated. And that I have been up nights worrying about it. And that I DO feel defensive. Like, my baby was on her way out anyway, so don't think it was you who bullied me to this quiet commute to work by myself. OK? 

And then, I wonder. I question myself. I go against my own demand for upfront-ness. Am I being unreasonable? Or, if I was confronted directly would I be as honest as I say I want everyone else to be? Do I really want a chance to respond to the complaint? My answers to these questions tend to change, depending on how much sleep I'm rolling in at the time. And that, my friends, is motherhood. At home. And in the workplace.