When Not Being There for Your Kid is a Good Thing

Yesterday morning I found myself in one of those typical working mom dilemmas. The Boss woke up with a sore throat.

In my decade of being a working mom, I've been in this situation dozens, maybe hundreds of times. Normally it's not a big deal -- I can easily work from home. But yesterday happened to be one of those rare times I really needed to be in the office.

Thanks to my decade-honed mommy super powers, I knew this sore throat was likely just a viral thing. There was no fever and although her tonsils looked swollen, I'd definitely seen worse. But I felt it best to at least get it checked out.

"Boss, we'll go to the doctor this morning, but if you don't have strep, we'll get you some Tylenol and drop you off at school."

Her little face fell. She had counted on staying home for the day. My inner mommy voice and the working mom guilt immediately kicked in: Look at her. She doesn't feel well. Her throat hurts. Maybe I should let her stay home. My poor baby!

But then something else kicked in. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the frustration of being caught in that situation for the gazillionth time. Maybe it was my inner professional voice screaming "But I really need to be at that meeting! You know she's perfectly fine...it's just a little cold!" Before I could stop myself, I turned around and these words flew out of my mouth,

"Listen, Boss. You're not the only person in the universe. Other people have needs too. I have to work!'

Oh, boy. Of course I instantly regretted it. I watched with trepidation as a wide-eyed Boss looked up at me. I waited for the eyes to well up. I waited for her to crumble.

Instead, she said, "OK."

"OK, what?" I asked, surprised at that response.

"I understand," she said.

"You understand what?"

"I understand you have things to do at work. You can work," she said quietly.

My heart broke into a million pieces. I was all at once proud and sad that my baby, now 7, wasn't so much a baby anymore. She understood. She was growing up and had just learned a valuable lesson about being sensitive to others needs. And about the fact that sometimes you just have to push through even if you don't feel quite 100%.

Of course she didn't have strep. We stopped at the drug store on our way to school and got her some Tylenol and a great big chocolate bar. Even though professional Amy won out this time, mommy Amy just couldn't resist somehow indulging and rewarding her baby for being such a big girl.

When Not Being There for Your Kid is a Good Thing

A Day in My Life

6 am -- Wake up to blaring alarm, change into workout clothes

6:15 -- Wake the Boss, help her get dressed (long for spring when tights will no longer be de rigueur and 6 yo can dress herself.)

6:30 -- Sign Angel's homework planner, referee sisterly fights, negotiate and create two hairdos, hunt down missing jacket, plead with children to finish breakfast

7:00 -- Kiss girls goodbye, mindlessly pick up Blackberry

7:15 -- Realize I've wasted half my workout time getting sucked into work email and ditch plan to workout in favor of tidying up house in preparation for cleaning crew (crew will only clean surfaces they can find) and for getting dressed to get to work earlier. Discover and clean up lovely package left by either dog or cat in home office.

8:00 -- Get dressed. Choose something equally work- and Brownie-appropriate (with quick change of shoes).

8:45 -- Pack up car with supplies for afternoon Brownie meeting -- snacks, drinks, balloons, bean bag toss, hula hoops, jump ropes, Skechers...check!

9:00 -- Halfway to work, turn around and head back home. Remembered all the Brownie stuff but forgot the #$#%! work briefcase and laptop. There goes earlier work arrival!

9:30 -- Arrive at work. Get sucked into a vortex of non-stop meetings and on-the-fly conversations with colleagues. Breakfast is dry cereal straight out of box. Try to sneak eating lunch during major presentation (where I'm presenter).

2:10 -- Apologetically slink out of major presentation before it is over to head to Brownie meeting. Try to mentally make the shift from career cancer-fighter to Brownie meeting leader on the way. Mentally compose this blog post instead.

2:45 -- Arrive at Brownie meeting. Strip off high heel boots and throw on Skechers. Unload car.

2:50 -- Feed 13 antsy 9 year olds. Wrangle them into lesson about why Sports and Games are important to provide context and meaning to the next 45 minutes of meaningless fun and frivolity. Orchestrate various relay races and games. Get thumbs up from Angel. Goal was to avoid embarrassing her so consider meeting BIG success.

3:50 -- Clean up Brownie site, grab Angel and her best friend. Drop best friend off at her house. Drop Angel off at ours. Take quick bathroom break, quickly check work email on Blackberry and head back out.

4:30 -- Meet with therapist to figure out how to avoid going crazy. Any suggestions?

6:00 -- Arrive back home. Check work emails again. Get download from Nanny and kids on homefront happenings. Negotiate after-dinner snacks with the Boss. Referee more sisterly sniping. Scarf down dinner.

7:45 -- Orchestrate toy clean up. Threaten the Boss within an inch of her life for launching into the "I don't wanna clean up! I don't wanna go to bed!" routine. Not having it tonight.

8:00 -- Start bedtime routine including daily reminder to Angel to brush AND floss teeth. Read Boss bedtime story. Negotiate 8:30 lights out time with Angel, leave her reading in bed.

8:15 -- Download with Hubby on homefront happenings and to-dos for remainder of the week.

8:30 -- Fire up Twitter and begin composing blog post. Has it been 3 weeks since the last one?

9:30 -- Watch DVR'd Lost with Hubby.

10:30 -- Collapse and start all over again in the morning.

A Day in My Life

Who Knew?

So I managed to survive my week as a psuedo-SAHM and I have to say, I learned some pretty surprising things. First and foremost I learned that when I'm focused on just one job instead of three, life is alot easier. I actually found some time to sleep. For multiple hours. In a row. And I could think. Clearly. And breathe. Also I was suprised to learn that my children are WAY more charming and engaging when I'm not doing 500 things at once.

And despite the fact that I had some time to think and breathe, I didn't necessarily get everything done that I wanted to. I wanted to organize some stuff. I wanted to blog more. I wanted to sleep. ALOT. But alas, there were PLENTY of basic things around here that kept me busy: making meals, organizing activities, running errands, emptying our dishwasher 100 times, nagging and herding children and doing endless laundry. Of course discovering our kadrillionth (that's a word, right?) case of head lice didn't help any. I spent tons of time combing and picking through childrens' heads, and needless to say doing exponential loads of laundry. But I kept up with it and I'm happy to say the house did not implode like I thought it might left in my care.

Probably the most surprising thing I learned was how physical the labor was. By mid-week, my arms and legs were beginning to ache. I started to actually feel all of that lifting of laundry, groceries and dishes, being on my feet all day...wait a minute, are you laughing at me? Are you sure? Because it feels like you're laughing at me. So, maybe I've gotten a little soft in my two years of full-time working mom-dom. Nanny does alot around here. But whatever. I've been stretching my brain. So much that it hurts most of the time when I'm working.

All in all it was an interesting week and I'm happy to say I didn't hate it. In fact, although it's never been my life's ambition to be a SAHM, I could maybe get used to it. I did really like that sleeping and breathing thing.

Who Knew?

This One's Gotta Stick

Last year I made a singular resolution. It was bold. It was profound. And it was a complete and utter failure.

Ok, I'm being a little hard on myself. It wasn't as if I tried and failed. It's just that the resolution itself was a bit of a reach. And pretty naive.

I had resolved to enjoy my life more, which is a perfectly valid and reasonable resolution. Except that I forgot that in order to enjoy my life, I had to like it first. I forgot to fix some things. I went from being mildly dissatisfied with my life in the beginning of the year, to completely hating it by the end. Instead of paring down on work like I had originally planned, I ramped up. To compensate for it, I changed some things at home. And I took on some extracurricular things I shouldn't have. The nail-biting election and tanking economy didn't help much.

As a result, by fall, I sank into a deep, dark hole. And by hole, I mean an honest-to-god depression. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't focus, I couldn't do much of anything. I barely held it together in public and fell apart at home. I became angry and lost interest in doing things I normally enjoy like blogging (notice how boring I got right around Sept/Oct? Given the unsubscribes around that time some of you clearly did.). Me, the one with the perfect house, the perfect job, the perfect husband, perfect nanny and the truly perfect kids. Me, the one with the relatively idyllic childhood (which I almost never bring up because, you know, who wants to hear that? Ok, my mom made me eat food I didn't like and talk to people I didn't know very well even though I was really, really shy. OK? Happy now?). I was actually depressed.

I'm feeling better now. Maybe it's because I finally admitted to myself and to Hubby that I needed help and started to look for some. Maybe it's because I read this disturbing article and realized that lots of other women like me are going through the same thing. Maybe it's because I've finally gotten some sleep. Or maybe it's because I know that things can only get better from here.

So my new singular and profound resolution for this year is to take a step back and do what I probably should have done last year. Fix my life. I'm not exactly sure how yet, but this is one resolution that I'm absolutely committed to keeping.

This One's Gotta Stick

Seeing How the Other Half Lives

With the holiday craziness behind us, I'm looking forward to a more peaceful existence. I've taken the week off from work during which I'll get a taste of what it's like to be a SAHM. No Nanny. No help from Hubby. It's a little beyond the norm because the girls are home and we get to make the schedule up as we go along. And Hubby will be off from work on Thursday for New Years Day. But for the most part, I'll be on my own to entertain the girls and keep the house from falling apart.

So far I've spent the entire morning on my computer surfing Facebook and blogging while unfinished laundry sits in the washer/dryer, the kitty litter needs changing, the kitchen stands uncleaned from breakfast and the girls have been sitting in front of the TV and computer. From the SAHM and WAHM blogs I usually read, I gather I've pretty much mastered this SAHM thing already!

(jk...tearing myself away now to do the real mommy work...)

Seeing How the Other Half Lives

We're All White Trash Moms

When the SV Moms sisterhood of bloggers offered a free copy of "The White Trash Mom Handbook," written by fellow mommyblogger Michelle Lamar, I couldn't resist raising my hand for a free copy. Given the title, I just knew this book would speak to me. It's all about bucking the system that expects us moms to be a combination Martha Stewart, Carole Brady and Charlotte York all rolled into one -- a standard of perfection that simply does not exist. Instead, Michelle encourages us to embrace our human frailties, aka our inner trailer park. I'm all about tearing down those facades.

In her book, Michelle gives great tips on how to navigate the rough and often shark-infested waters of modern-day motherhood. One chapter that was particularly helpful was about the Muffia, the pack of wolves that rule your local elementary school, aka the PTA in my neck of the woods.

Ever since I was a little kid and watched my mom go off to her PTA meetings at night, I've looked forward to being an active PTA participant. But to my bitter disappointment, we seem to have landed in a school where the PTA moms, a tight-knit pack of stay-at-home moms, have such disdain for working moms that the vast majority of meetings are right smack in the middle of the day when no working mom can possibly attend. As a result, I have a silent, yet virulent ban on volunteering for PTA activities. The only reason my daughters don't seem to suffer retribution is that, true to Michelle's advice, I remain visible in the school by volunteering in my daughters' classrooms. So far no one seems the wiser, but I have been ITCHING to say something to the Muffia. I'd LOVE for one of them to ask me to volunteer for a PTA program or to wonder aloud in front of me why they can't seem to get anyone beyond their inner circle to volunteer, so I could go off:

"Well, Muffy, now that you ask, you should know that you and your princess posse are known to be the cliquiest clique in the school. If you were to ever actually live down that rep and open yourselves up to being open to outsiders, then perhaps you braniacs might want to consider moving your meetings to the evening when the 70% of mothers who work might be able to join you. Did you know that my job gives me 20 hours of volunteer time off during the year separate and apart from my vacation time? Well, I won't be dedicating a single minute of that time to the PTA. When you choose to accommodate me, I'll be more than happy to help you people out."

And while this rant may be worthy of a white-trash smack down, Michelle advises against it. Instead, she says it's best to make a snarky underhanded comment disguised as a compliment: "Hi, Muffy! You look great -- not nearly as puffy since the last time I saw you! Yes, and I understand your precious daughter is finally doing not so badly in math! That's so great!" Also fun, but not nearly as cathartic.

I found "The White Trash Mom Handbook" to be a great read and lots of fun, but one overriding thought kept nagging at me. As I read Michelle's tips on how to navigate corporate culture that does not accommodate mothers or how to fake your way through a bake sale, I kept wondering why we should continue to play these games? Why should we pretend? Yes, these tips work in the short run, but are they getting to the real root of the problem?

Why can't we just march up to the boss and say, "I have to pick up my kid at school and take him to the dentist. I'm sustaining a healthy human life so our species can continue to exist on this planet. Deal with it." Or why don't we just walk right into that bake sale, plunk down some store-bought cupcakes and proclaim, "On sale from Publix. If you don't like it, you can suck it." Now THAT would be some real progress.

We're All White Trash Moms