And all of them make noise.
Okay, not all of them, but many of them. And why is kid music so tinny-sounding and frenetic? It's like tiny little musicians on crack are sitting inside the toy playing a recorder and a kazoo and singing some bizarre elfish falsetto. Oh, and don't forget the ones that have the "perfect mother" voice inside, like the little Sort & Learn Van Lauren is playing with right now. I want to smack that chick.
I sound grinchy, but I swear I'm not. We actually had one of the nicest Christmases we've had in a long time, even though Grace was sick through the whole thing.
Happy New Year! Go Bears!
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Best christmas present ever.
Obviously, this is not the gift for everyone. But we're pretty freakin' excited about it. Thank you to Charlotte and Mary who figured this would be an okay gift for our family.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Have you ever...
gone to work just so you could relax?
wrapped Christmas presents on your desk because by the time you get the kids to bed you're too tired to do it at home?
told your child that she didn't have to brush her teeth before bed because you just could not deal with the lengthy process of squirting the toothpaste onto a teeny tiny brush, waiting patiently while she spits about umpteen times during brushing, then carefully selects just the right Chicken Little dixie cup for the final rinse before spilling the water out of the cup onto the front of her pajamas?
left your kids at daycare a little longer so you could go home and take a nap?
told your kids that the playground was closed?
put your kids to bed at 6:30 and told them it was really late (because, heck, it's been dark since 4:30 anyway - what do they know)?
had to leave the room because your kid did something totally inappropriate for which you should scold them, but instead you are about to laugh hysterically because it was so damn funny?
let your kid wear the same thing to school two days in a row because it was just easier?
sat in the rocking chair holding the baby long after you should have put her down just because she's so soft and snuggly and she never sits still in your lap any other time?
wished you could bring your dog to a restaurant to clean up?
wished curses on the heads of the people at the Barbie factory for putting nine zillion metal twist-ties around her limbs?
found yourself sitting there watching Franklin for several minutes after the kids have left the room?
caught yourself at work humming something like dumb, like "It's so Cozy to Ride in a Dump Truck?"
wondered how in the world - how? - did you come to find yourself with these children? These children who depend on you and love you and think you know everything and are so happy to see you all the time, and who you can't resist looking at one more time before you go to bed even though, about two hours ago, you thought you might kill them?
wrapped Christmas presents on your desk because by the time you get the kids to bed you're too tired to do it at home?
told your child that she didn't have to brush her teeth before bed because you just could not deal with the lengthy process of squirting the toothpaste onto a teeny tiny brush, waiting patiently while she spits about umpteen times during brushing, then carefully selects just the right Chicken Little dixie cup for the final rinse before spilling the water out of the cup onto the front of her pajamas?
left your kids at daycare a little longer so you could go home and take a nap?
told your kids that the playground was closed?
put your kids to bed at 6:30 and told them it was really late (because, heck, it's been dark since 4:30 anyway - what do they know)?
had to leave the room because your kid did something totally inappropriate for which you should scold them, but instead you are about to laugh hysterically because it was so damn funny?
let your kid wear the same thing to school two days in a row because it was just easier?
sat in the rocking chair holding the baby long after you should have put her down just because she's so soft and snuggly and she never sits still in your lap any other time?
wished you could bring your dog to a restaurant to clean up?
wished curses on the heads of the people at the Barbie factory for putting nine zillion metal twist-ties around her limbs?
found yourself sitting there watching Franklin for several minutes after the kids have left the room?
caught yourself at work humming something like dumb, like "It's so Cozy to Ride in a Dump Truck?"
wondered how in the world - how? - did you come to find yourself with these children? These children who depend on you and love you and think you know everything and are so happy to see you all the time, and who you can't resist looking at one more time before you go to bed even though, about two hours ago, you thought you might kill them?
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Worlds collide
There's this great little store where I pick up a bagel and a chai some mornings after I drop off the girls. The lovely women who work there mostly see me in my (somewhat) put together work self. I mean, I wear jeans most days, so it's not like I'm all dressed up, but at least my make-up is on straight and my hair is combed.
Today I had to have a chai - theirs is truly the best there is and puts Starbucks to shame in my opinion. Grace thinks it's a huge treat to go there, so I loaded up the girls and off we went, me in my sweatshirt from yesterday and a baseball hat, Lauren with a booger right under her nose. (Which I only discovered at the exact moment that I ran into someone we knew.)
Going to Froehlich's with the girls was kind of like that Seinfeld episode where George complains about worlds colliding; you know, there's the work/public you and then there's the mom you. It's the same person, but not exactly.
The Froehlich's girls seemed tickled to see my girls and Colleen, the owner, even came out from the back to see where the little voices were coming from. It was a very sweet outing, but I kind of feel like I let them see behind the curtain. Like now they will know that I'm not that super sophisticated chick in jeans, but rather a woman who is getting a back problem from carrying around a 22 pound baby who can't walk. Although, I'm pretty sure they never thought I was super sophisticated to begin with, so what am I worrying about?
Oh, and if you're ever in Three Oaks be sure to stop by Froehlich's. You won't be disappointed. And if it so happens that they have chocolate danish that day, consider yourself very lucky.
http://www.shopfroehlichs.com/
Today I had to have a chai - theirs is truly the best there is and puts Starbucks to shame in my opinion. Grace thinks it's a huge treat to go there, so I loaded up the girls and off we went, me in my sweatshirt from yesterday and a baseball hat, Lauren with a booger right under her nose. (Which I only discovered at the exact moment that I ran into someone we knew.)
Going to Froehlich's with the girls was kind of like that Seinfeld episode where George complains about worlds colliding; you know, there's the work/public you and then there's the mom you. It's the same person, but not exactly.
The Froehlich's girls seemed tickled to see my girls and Colleen, the owner, even came out from the back to see where the little voices were coming from. It was a very sweet outing, but I kind of feel like I let them see behind the curtain. Like now they will know that I'm not that super sophisticated chick in jeans, but rather a woman who is getting a back problem from carrying around a 22 pound baby who can't walk. Although, I'm pretty sure they never thought I was super sophisticated to begin with, so what am I worrying about?
Oh, and if you're ever in Three Oaks be sure to stop by Froehlich's. You won't be disappointed. And if it so happens that they have chocolate danish that day, consider yourself very lucky.
http://www.shopfroehlichs.com/
Friday, December 15, 2006
That's not my job.
I hate doing dishes at work.
Every once in a while I'll have a bowl of oatmeal. Maybe some cereal. But even though I know the oatmeal will turn to mortar in the bowl, I just cannot bring myself to wash that bowl.
It's gross, I know. And one of my partners regularly harangues all of us about leaving dishes in the sink; a sink, I might add, that is approximately 8" x 10" – not exactly big enough to house more than one or two dirty bowls at a time.
My general strategy is to fill the bowl with water, so that I can pretend I need it to "soak." A day - or three - later I'll wash it. And if I'm lucky, someone else will wash it because they need the room in the sink to "soak" their dish.
Look, I realize that we're all adults here. I'm perfectly capable of washing a bowl and spoon. But I'm at work, damnit! That's not my job.
Every once in a while I'll have a bowl of oatmeal. Maybe some cereal. But even though I know the oatmeal will turn to mortar in the bowl, I just cannot bring myself to wash that bowl.
It's gross, I know. And one of my partners regularly harangues all of us about leaving dishes in the sink; a sink, I might add, that is approximately 8" x 10" – not exactly big enough to house more than one or two dirty bowls at a time.
My general strategy is to fill the bowl with water, so that I can pretend I need it to "soak." A day - or three - later I'll wash it. And if I'm lucky, someone else will wash it because they need the room in the sink to "soak" their dish.
Look, I realize that we're all adults here. I'm perfectly capable of washing a bowl and spoon. But I'm at work, damnit! That's not my job.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
All this for a bad picture?
So we went to the mall on Wednesday so that the girls could see Santa. Grace has been talking a big game about how - this year - she won't be afraid of Santa, and how she'll be all ready to show Lauren how it's done. I have pretended to believe this.
We got to the mall and got in a short line of people waiting for Santa to finish his scheduled break. Of course, all the other moms were whipping out hair brushes and grooming their offspring in preparation for the big photo op. I was not doing this because it didn't occur to me to pack a brush. I don't carry one, so why would I throw it into the diaper bag? I finger-combed Grace's hair while Chad gave me a half-hearted hard time about being the only mom without a brush.
Next, Grace and I had to cut out of line to go look at Santa from the other side of his throne area. She was already getting anxious about actually getting near the guy, and was biting her nails furiously.
Back in line she began her flat-out refusal to see Santa unless the whole family could be in the picture. After a couple of minutes back and forth Chad and I agreed to be in the picture if it was okay with Santa's handlers. It was, so we went. But their lame-ass Santa barely talked to the girls, only half-listened when Grace finally whispered what she wanted from behind her fingernails, and then gave out a couple of dorky coloring books. He looked good, though. Really authentic.
The resulting photo says it all.
Here are a few conclusions I've come to on this whole visiting Santa thing:
1. Most people seem to be in it only for the photo. Way more time was spent arranging kids on Santa's lap than was spent in actual conversation with the kids.
2. The photos are a total rip-off. We paid $25 to get one 5x7 photo and a CD with the picture on it that includes a photo release so we can make our own prints. However, we'll never make prints because a) Chad doesn't like the shot and b) who besides us really wants a picture of the entire family on Santa's lap?
3. 95% of kids are petrified of Santa. The younger they are, the worse it is, but even the older kids seem to be thinking this is pretty weird.
4. Next year I'm going to save myself the hassle of hauling the kids to the mall after work and instead make a big deal out of writing a letter to Santa. Heck, I'm a writer and I work in the graphic design business - I could even create a letter back from Santa that would be way more exciting than sitting on his lap in an ugly velour chair at the mall.
The good news? Both girls were on their absolute best behavior when we went to dinner at the Olive Garden afterward. Whew!
We got to the mall and got in a short line of people waiting for Santa to finish his scheduled break. Of course, all the other moms were whipping out hair brushes and grooming their offspring in preparation for the big photo op. I was not doing this because it didn't occur to me to pack a brush. I don't carry one, so why would I throw it into the diaper bag? I finger-combed Grace's hair while Chad gave me a half-hearted hard time about being the only mom without a brush.
Next, Grace and I had to cut out of line to go look at Santa from the other side of his throne area. She was already getting anxious about actually getting near the guy, and was biting her nails furiously.
Back in line she began her flat-out refusal to see Santa unless the whole family could be in the picture. After a couple of minutes back and forth Chad and I agreed to be in the picture if it was okay with Santa's handlers. It was, so we went. But their lame-ass Santa barely talked to the girls, only half-listened when Grace finally whispered what she wanted from behind her fingernails, and then gave out a couple of dorky coloring books. He looked good, though. Really authentic.
The resulting photo says it all.
Here are a few conclusions I've come to on this whole visiting Santa thing:
1. Most people seem to be in it only for the photo. Way more time was spent arranging kids on Santa's lap than was spent in actual conversation with the kids.
2. The photos are a total rip-off. We paid $25 to get one 5x7 photo and a CD with the picture on it that includes a photo release so we can make our own prints. However, we'll never make prints because a) Chad doesn't like the shot and b) who besides us really wants a picture of the entire family on Santa's lap?
3. 95% of kids are petrified of Santa. The younger they are, the worse it is, but even the older kids seem to be thinking this is pretty weird.
4. Next year I'm going to save myself the hassle of hauling the kids to the mall after work and instead make a big deal out of writing a letter to Santa. Heck, I'm a writer and I work in the graphic design business - I could even create a letter back from Santa that would be way more exciting than sitting on his lap in an ugly velour chair at the mall.
The good news? Both girls were on their absolute best behavior when we went to dinner at the Olive Garden afterward. Whew!
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Out of the mouths of clients
I've got clients in all different businesses. Most of them are great, but occasionally they say stuff that just makes me wonder. These quotes are real, but I'm not saying who they're from because I really don't want to get fired.
From the marketing director of a manufacturing company:
"Now, you've sent me a 4-page PDF. Could you re-save that as four separate PDFs so that I could print out the pages one at time... you know, separately?"
# # #
From the marketing director of a healthcare products manufacturer (circa, oh, 1997):
"Do they call it the World Wide Web because it goes all over the world?"
# # #
From the VP of marketing at a financial services company:
Client: "I got the new brochure layout, but we didn't want to change any of the copy. I'm not sure why you changed the copy; we wanted to keep it exactly the same."
Agency: "Did you read it? We didn't change the copy at all. It is laid out a little differently - you know, one wide column on the page instead of two columns."
Client: "Well, I didn't read it. That's just what the HR director told me... that it was changed."
Agency: "Oh. Well, it's exactly the same. We only changed the layout, like you asked."
Client: "Oh. Okay."
# # #
From a business unit manager of a building products company:
"We're just really awful to work with. Sorry."
# # #
From a retail marketing liaison at a building products company (to my partner and co-creative director):
"Do you quilt?"
To be fair, this was part of a non-job related discussion and my business partner was, in fact, waxing enthusiastic about a quilt that one of his art school classmates had made. But I'm not sure how the client made the leap to him actually quilting himself.
From the marketing director of a manufacturing company:
"Now, you've sent me a 4-page PDF. Could you re-save that as four separate PDFs so that I could print out the pages one at time... you know, separately?"
# # #
From the marketing director of a healthcare products manufacturer (circa, oh, 1997):
"Do they call it the World Wide Web because it goes all over the world?"
# # #
From the VP of marketing at a financial services company:
Client: "I got the new brochure layout, but we didn't want to change any of the copy. I'm not sure why you changed the copy; we wanted to keep it exactly the same."
Agency: "Did you read it? We didn't change the copy at all. It is laid out a little differently - you know, one wide column on the page instead of two columns."
Client: "Well, I didn't read it. That's just what the HR director told me... that it was changed."
Agency: "Oh. Well, it's exactly the same. We only changed the layout, like you asked."
Client: "Oh. Okay."
# # #
From a business unit manager of a building products company:
"We're just really awful to work with. Sorry."
# # #
From a retail marketing liaison at a building products company (to my partner and co-creative director):
"Do you quilt?"
To be fair, this was part of a non-job related discussion and my business partner was, in fact, waxing enthusiastic about a quilt that one of his art school classmates had made. But I'm not sure how the client made the leap to him actually quilting himself.
From the mouths of babes
On the way to the doctor's office for Lauren's flu shot booster:
Grace: "Mom, last time we got shots I looked at the shot and it was really pointy."
2JobMom: "Well it has to be pointy, honey, because it has to get the medicine all the way into your body. You don't have to look if you don't want to."
Grace: "Well I looked last time because I wanted to know what shots look like."
2JM: "So now you know, and you don't have to look this time."
Grace: "Mom, I'm old enough to look at a shot!"
2JM: "Yes, you are."
# # #
In the bathtub, giving herself a once-over with the bubble bath:
Grace: "Mom! I found where my poop comes out!"
# # #
After dinner, during which she ate approximately six tater tots and zero bites of a ham sandwich:
Grace: "Mom, I'm not going to eat anything unless it's tater tot casserole."
2JM: "Oh. Okay."
Guess she's gonna be pretty hungry.
# # #
Grace: "Mom, last time we got shots I looked at the shot and it was really pointy."
2JobMom: "Well it has to be pointy, honey, because it has to get the medicine all the way into your body. You don't have to look if you don't want to."
Grace: "Well I looked last time because I wanted to know what shots look like."
2JM: "So now you know, and you don't have to look this time."
Grace: "Mom, I'm old enough to look at a shot!"
2JM: "Yes, you are."
# # #
In the bathtub, giving herself a once-over with the bubble bath:
Grace: "Mom! I found where my poop comes out!"
# # #
After dinner, during which she ate approximately six tater tots and zero bites of a ham sandwich:
Grace: "Mom, I'm not going to eat anything unless it's tater tot casserole."
2JM: "Oh. Okay."
Guess she's gonna be pretty hungry.
# # #
Too much birthday
Grace was invited to a birthday pool party for one of her preschool friends this past weekend. Pool parties are great - they don't have to last very long, the kids get exhausted, and then you leave.
The party started with cake and presents in a separate room at the hotel, which seemed smart to me because then you don't have a roomful of freezing, soggy kids eating cake. Then we headed for the pool. The kids swam and jumped off the side, Grace was having a ball, and I was thinking how excellent it was that I didn't have to get in the water with her now that she's getting a little older and braver. And then the birthday girl swallowed a mouthful of pool water.
I heard something like, "Daddy, I swallowed sommm.....," and then out came a gush of purple puke.
That's right. She puked. Right there poolside. (And I don't know why it was purple because the cake was chocolate with red frosting.)
Her Dad and I calmly cleaned it up (her Mom was in the pool with the kids), and I was thinking to myself that it was probably only a matter of hours before I had purple puke appearing at my house. But then Emma jumped cheerfully back into the water, with no sign of additional gastrointestinal distress.
What a relief.
The party started with cake and presents in a separate room at the hotel, which seemed smart to me because then you don't have a roomful of freezing, soggy kids eating cake. Then we headed for the pool. The kids swam and jumped off the side, Grace was having a ball, and I was thinking how excellent it was that I didn't have to get in the water with her now that she's getting a little older and braver. And then the birthday girl swallowed a mouthful of pool water.
I heard something like, "Daddy, I swallowed sommm.....," and then out came a gush of purple puke.
That's right. She puked. Right there poolside. (And I don't know why it was purple because the cake was chocolate with red frosting.)
Her Dad and I calmly cleaned it up (her Mom was in the pool with the kids), and I was thinking to myself that it was probably only a matter of hours before I had purple puke appearing at my house. But then Emma jumped cheerfully back into the water, with no sign of additional gastrointestinal distress.
What a relief.
Saturday, December 9, 2006
And then, a miracle occured....
Lauren was born 10 months ago. Last night was the first time in, oh, five of those past ten months that both girls slept through the entire night.
The irony of all this?
I couldn't sleep.
The irony of all this?
I couldn't sleep.
Friday, December 8, 2006
Exactly
I feel like this is kinda dorky to admit, but I really love the Writer's Almanac on NPR. I hear it every morning on the way to work and the stories of the writers' lives are pretty interesting, but it's the poem each day that I look forward to. This past Tuesday was one that really struck me.
Things You Didn't Put On Your Resume
How often you got up in the middle of the night
when one of your children had a bad dream
and sometimes you woke because you thought
you heard a cry but they were all sleeping.
so you stood in the moonlight just listening
to their breathing, and you didn't mention
that you were an expert at putting toothpaste
on tiny toothbrushes and bending down to wiggle
the toothbrush ten times on each tooth while
you sang the words to songs from Annie, and
who would suspect that you know the fingerings
to the songs in the first four books of the Suzuki
Violin Method and that you can do the voices
of Pooh and Piglet especially well, though
your absolute favorite thing to read out loud is
Bedtime for Frances and that you picked
up your way of reading it from Glynnis Johns,
and it is, now that you think of it, rather impressive
that you read all of Narnia and all of the Ring Trilogy
(and others too many to mention here) to them
before they went to bed and on the way out to
Yellowstone, which is another thing that you don't put
on the resume: how you took them to the ocean
and the mountains and brought them safely home.
By Joyce Sutphen
Things You Didn't Put On Your Resume
How often you got up in the middle of the night
when one of your children had a bad dream
and sometimes you woke because you thought
you heard a cry but they were all sleeping.
so you stood in the moonlight just listening
to their breathing, and you didn't mention
that you were an expert at putting toothpaste
on tiny toothbrushes and bending down to wiggle
the toothbrush ten times on each tooth while
you sang the words to songs from Annie, and
who would suspect that you know the fingerings
to the songs in the first four books of the Suzuki
Violin Method and that you can do the voices
of Pooh and Piglet especially well, though
your absolute favorite thing to read out loud is
Bedtime for Frances and that you picked
up your way of reading it from Glynnis Johns,
and it is, now that you think of it, rather impressive
that you read all of Narnia and all of the Ring Trilogy
(and others too many to mention here) to them
before they went to bed and on the way out to
Yellowstone, which is another thing that you don't put
on the resume: how you took them to the ocean
and the mountains and brought them safely home.
By Joyce Sutphen
Thursday, December 7, 2006
Day Two
5:45 am - Get up and shower before kids wake up. I have a client meeting today that's a 3-hour drive away. I have to leave the house by 7:15.
6:45 am - Baby wakes up. Make bottle, feed and dress her, warn hubby to get up and take a shower before I leave.
6:58 am - Grace wakes up. Moans and rolls on the floor.
7:05 am - I'm coaxing Grace into her clothes while the baby tries to eat the furniture in her big sister's doll house.
7:13 am - Turn the kids over to hubby, head downstairs to get coat on and move car seats out of my car and into the Suburban. Grace is crying, "I want mama" while hubby calmly leads her into the bathroom to do her hair. Bless him.
7:18 - Pull out of driveway into a pitch dark, freezing cold morning. Head to office to pick up company car and hit the road.
11:00 - Arrive at client's office and have meeting #1.
12:30 - Head out lunch, but I'm about ready to pass out from hunger. My morning bagel does not exactly tide me over through a 3-hour drive and 90 minute meeting about commercial door locks. Plus, there was a detour to the restaurant that added about 20 minutes onto our travel time, which was great.
2:00 - Back to client's office for meeting #3
3:15 - Begin meeting #3
4:30 - Back on the road home. Stop for extremely satisfying dinner at McDonald's - is it just me, or do they have the best Coke on earth?
8:00 - Get home, read The Grinch for the ninth time in four days (complete with authentic Grinchy voice).
8:45 - Both kids in bed, hubby engrossed in Brokeback Mountain. I want a jacuzzi, but I have to wait for Grace to fall asleep or the noise of the tub freaks her out and she gets out of bed. So I watch reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond instead (which reminds me of my life in many ways, only my mother-in-law is a lot nicer). Start falling asleep.
9:45 - Hubby fills up the tub; we stay in for a very long time, bccoming very relaxed and very pruney
11:00 - Crash
Long day, but I did get a pretty good lunch.
6:45 am - Baby wakes up. Make bottle, feed and dress her, warn hubby to get up and take a shower before I leave.
6:58 am - Grace wakes up. Moans and rolls on the floor.
7:05 am - I'm coaxing Grace into her clothes while the baby tries to eat the furniture in her big sister's doll house.
7:13 am - Turn the kids over to hubby, head downstairs to get coat on and move car seats out of my car and into the Suburban. Grace is crying, "I want mama" while hubby calmly leads her into the bathroom to do her hair. Bless him.
7:18 - Pull out of driveway into a pitch dark, freezing cold morning. Head to office to pick up company car and hit the road.
11:00 - Arrive at client's office and have meeting #1.
12:30 - Head out lunch, but I'm about ready to pass out from hunger. My morning bagel does not exactly tide me over through a 3-hour drive and 90 minute meeting about commercial door locks. Plus, there was a detour to the restaurant that added about 20 minutes onto our travel time, which was great.
2:00 - Back to client's office for meeting #3
3:15 - Begin meeting #3
4:30 - Back on the road home. Stop for extremely satisfying dinner at McDonald's - is it just me, or do they have the best Coke on earth?
8:00 - Get home, read The Grinch for the ninth time in four days (complete with authentic Grinchy voice).
8:45 - Both kids in bed, hubby engrossed in Brokeback Mountain. I want a jacuzzi, but I have to wait for Grace to fall asleep or the noise of the tub freaks her out and she gets out of bed. So I watch reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond instead (which reminds me of my life in many ways, only my mother-in-law is a lot nicer). Start falling asleep.
9:45 - Hubby fills up the tub; we stay in for a very long time, bccoming very relaxed and very pruney
11:00 - Crash
Long day, but I did get a pretty good lunch.
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
Hi. My name is Heather. I have two kids and I work because I like to.
There, I said it. Now you try.
Feels kind of good, doesn't it, to admit that you like working? That even though you could stay home with your kids, you don't. And you aren't wracked with guilt about it every time you walk out the door.
I didn't say you were totally guilt-free, because I'm not either. There are definitely days when I know that my kids could use a little extra mom time, or they just haven't had quite enough sleep because we stayed over too late at their cousins' house watching football on Sunday. But you know what? My kids are fine. And I am fine because I work.
And that's why I'm here.
I'm sick of feeling like I have to defend my choice to work. I'm sick of feeling like I'm the only working mom on earth who is not lying awake at night chastising herself for leaving the house for 8 or 9 hours a day. I don't pretend to wish I was a stay-at-home mom because, the truth is, I don't wish that at all. I love my job and I love my kids. So every day I figure out how to make it work, and no two days are the same. It's not easy, and I definitely don't have the answers. I'm also not judging stay-at-home moms – that's a calling and it's intensely hard, and I admire and respect you for your choice. I'm just putting my two cents out there, that's all.
I'm just one woman with two jobs. The one at home and the one at work.
If you don't like what I have to say, you don't have to read this. If you do, feel free to add your two cents in, too. We can all use a little help, right?
There, I said it. Now you try.
Feels kind of good, doesn't it, to admit that you like working? That even though you could stay home with your kids, you don't. And you aren't wracked with guilt about it every time you walk out the door.
I didn't say you were totally guilt-free, because I'm not either. There are definitely days when I know that my kids could use a little extra mom time, or they just haven't had quite enough sleep because we stayed over too late at their cousins' house watching football on Sunday. But you know what? My kids are fine. And I am fine because I work.
And that's why I'm here.
I'm sick of feeling like I have to defend my choice to work. I'm sick of feeling like I'm the only working mom on earth who is not lying awake at night chastising herself for leaving the house for 8 or 9 hours a day. I don't pretend to wish I was a stay-at-home mom because, the truth is, I don't wish that at all. I love my job and I love my kids. So every day I figure out how to make it work, and no two days are the same. It's not easy, and I definitely don't have the answers. I'm also not judging stay-at-home moms – that's a calling and it's intensely hard, and I admire and respect you for your choice. I'm just putting my two cents out there, that's all.
I'm just one woman with two jobs. The one at home and the one at work.
If you don't like what I have to say, you don't have to read this. If you do, feel free to add your two cents in, too. We can all use a little help, right?
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