Momma vs. Dadda vs. work

I'm having an interesting mental twister. To update my darling readers on my life, I have been doing well at le' Shack, and enjoying every minute of working there. Apparently I am good at this, because I was actually graced with the promotion of MIT (Manager in Training). Now, in the world of the Shack, this is the first step above just a carefree Sales Associate. MIT means that I am willing to put forth the effort into training and fully intend to become a manager and take on the responsibility and woes of running my own store. After I go through a bit of a crash course in standard operations, I get to be bumped up to the next rung of the ladder known as an Assistant Manager. This basically means a lacky to a manager, and being in charge when the manager needs some desperate downtime. After following in a manager's footsteps for a year, learning all one can, then one sort of enters this little holding pattern of waiting for a store to open up and be handed to them. Even taking the first step up the ladder means a lot, because it brings this up from being just a "job" to an actual occupation, or dare I say, actual career.
So, here's the twister that I am facing, and the reason for titling this post so cryptically...as I am in the middle of facing an actual "career", I am now thinking a lot about how this will affect my son. I already know that this means of course, spending less time with him. But that's what going full time meant. But with the added responsibilities also comes less control over my own schedule, because now it's not about what's more convenient for me, but what's necessary for my store. It also means that I could eventually be putting myself in a position where I may be forced to make the painful decision of work vs. family. In fact, I feel like I am already straddling that line, being that I've put Anthony in childcare so that I may work a more fulltime schedule. Taking a fulltime job, with the added responsibilities of undermanagement, means that I am now obligated to more than just my son. It means pissing people off should I have to stay home with a sick child. It means having to schedule time off for birthdays and the eventual "events" that surround a child's life, and knowing there's always a possibility I may have to miss something (or risk losing said employment, or responsibilities).
There's this internal battle, plus the inner questioning of why men don't seem to have to worry about these issues. You see, my husband is currently looking for new employment, as he pretty much despises the company he currently works for. But his deciding factors of a new work are only based on his job preferrence and income needs. He doesn't have to worry about scheduling conflicts with a babysitter, or time off availability. There is no "work vs. family" choice for him, or it seems for most men (I have a dear friend who is a VERY rare exception to this, so Darth, I am not talking about you when I refer to "most men", nor do I refer to the single fathers out there who are making it work all around).
A perfect example of this odd imbalance would be yesterday...I had to attend my first management training meeting, which was further away than my own conveniently located store. The meeting was to be from 9AM to 6pm, then I had to rush over to my store and close. I also had to close the store the previous night, which meant not getting home until 10. I had asked Rick to drive us yesterday, so that we could get Anthony to his sitter, and me to my meeting in a timely fashion. I understood that this meant Rick going in an hour later than usual. But considering how convuluted the bus system is, it was better than waking Anthony up at about 5AM to drag him through the cold to navigate the bus routes. I figured it was a decent compromise leaving at 7:30, as Rick wouldn't be overly late, but I would get us taken care of, and would only be stuck at a starbucks near the meeting space for about an hour. Well, of course Rick forgot all about it (despite our discussions every night prior), so when it came time the night before that I was dragging myself into the house at 10, I discovered that Rick had neglected to inform his work, and refused to go in late for us the next day. So now I am left with having to call a cab, which costs frankly more than we can spare at the moment. He shambled off to bed, while I called the cab to set a pickup time, and then scrambled around the house packing up Anthony's necessities for the next day. I dragged myself out of bed at 6, made coffee, packed up the playpen, and hustled us off in the cab when it came time. I went to my meeting, stressed my way through it, scurried back to my own store, closed, and shlomped through the rain at 10pm that night. When I came in, both were asleep, so I snuck into Anthony's room to stare at my sleeping wee one, realizing that I had only seen him for the ten minute ride in the cab that morning. I suddenly start having the feeling I am really a terrible mother.
Every day that I drop him at a babysitter, I feel this. Every time I consider moving up at my workplace, I think of how he is affected first and foremost. It seems to me that most men never have to have these feelings. Perhaps it's because as the "main provider" there is no choice that comes into it, it's work to survive, and that's it. But as a working mother, I often have feelings of resentment that it seems I am the only one that IS considering our son. I am the sole carrier of the burdens of childraising decisions, he just gets to go to work and come home, and complain about the house being unkept. If something slips under his radar about Anthony, it's my fault for not reminding him.
Sorry to vent the frustrations, folks. I hate getting my whine on in these blogs. If you are a working parent, I hope maybe you can relate to the special hell that is this very situation.