Mommy Tracked

It is Thursday at 1:59pm and I am watching an April rain storm from my sunroom with a piping hot cup of tea in hand.  The kids are upstairs napping and I am sitting in peace, happily writing.  I didn't wake up 2 hours before my kids did this morning, I didn't drive to work in the pouring rain, and I showered at 1pm because a friend is coming over later (otherwise, waste precious nap time on a shower? As if). I've played with the kids, had two meals with them, and had the longest conversation I've ever had with one of Noah's teachers.  There is still a lot of day left to go but, at this moment, I can say that I made the right decision.

A month or two ago an opportunity to go part-time at a law firm presented itself to me.  Leaving a hard-to-get in-house position wasn't something I would just do so, with nothing to lose, I decided to ask for exactly what I'd want in a job and not a drop less  (a mostly flex/work from home schedule, a couple of days "off" a week, a very competitive salary, and opportunity in the future for partnership), and see what happened.  Well, to my surprise, they said yes.  To all of it.   I was thrilled.  I would be able to continue developing as a lawyer, continue to significantly contribute financially to our family, and have much more time with my kids.  I made something happen that I've been talking about for years, and was feeling pretty empowered...that is, until I resigned from my job.  People at my company were shocked that I was leaving -- until I said the words "part-time."  And then, each and every person responded in the exact same way: they nodded their heads.  I know, it seems like an innocuous enough gesture.  But (to me) it meant "of course, you're a mom, part-time makes more sense."  For weeks I listened to all of the trite commentary: "You'll never regret the time with your kids"; "They're only young once"; "They grow up so fast".  And then it hit me...the outside world had officially mommy-tracked me.  Nevermind that in my new role I would still be working the majority of the week and in a rigorous and even more demanding setting.  Nope, in their eyes, I had officially taken a step back in the name of my kids and that put me in a different bucket.  For some reason, this perception (or what I perceived to be the perception) really threw me.  Of course the primary reason I was taking the new job was to achieve a better balance and have more time with the kids.  But if I hadn't worked my butt off for the past nine years, such an opportunity may not have presented itself, and I certainly would not have been able to negotiate the salary and schedule I got.  I didn't feel like it was a step back, but a rare career opportunity that I had earned.

It gave me a small glimpse into the real perception of FT working mamas.  That we aren't fully raising our kids, that we are missing something...and while admirable and respectable, making that choice doesn't always feel "right" to others.  People tend to make the assumption that if a mom could choose to spend more time (or all of her time) at home, she would.  So my news was met with more than just understanding from others, it was almost met with a sense of relief.  And I sorta felt like I was letting the FT working mama cause down.  The truth is that I would have preferred to remain full-time if I had more flexibility.  I wasn't missing my kids grow up - I had good, quality time with them each day and did all of the things I would do if I were home with them on a smaller scale.  I didn't make the change to be more of a mom, because I was always 100% a mom.  And, likewise, working on a new schedule won't make me less of an attorney.  The "tracks" are far more complex than "mommy" or "working".  Oversimplifying it does a real injustice to almost all the women I know who, whether working or not or raising kids or not, pretty much rule the world.

But today, well, today is glorious.  Today, I will put any (perceived) perception aside and have faith that I made the right choice.  I will revel in the extra time with my kids, I will work hard to prove myself in a new job, and by golly I will finish this hot cup of tea.

Winterfell

I don't hate the winter, in theory.  There's something so peaceful and quiet about it.  A nice break in the year after an every-weekend-is-booked summer, a hustle start to the fall which, for us, includes a million birthdays and runs straight into Halloween and the holidays and another birthday without much of a break.  Get past Christmas and end-of-the-year work deadlines and we - finally, deservedly - coast into a sort of quiet zone where we can watch movies guilt-free all weekend because it's too cold to go out (ok, yea, we should be at the museum or something, but shut up), subsist on homemade stew, wear sweatpants as much as life will allow, and teach our kids about snowball fights and igloos.  Sounds lovely, doesn't it?  It is, for the 3 days or so this idyllic winter hibernation plan actually works out.  Because when you have kids, the other 117 days of winter are spent with at least one person in the house (if not all) being sick.  And I don't just mean a cough and runny nose (which for the purposes of assessing whether to go to work or send your kid to school does not register even a 1 on the "sick radar").  I'm talking about rashes, multiple doctors visits, weird viruses you've never heard of, antivirals, antibiotics, ER visits, just shit that will mess your life up.

After 4 winters with kids, I can no longer passively sail into winter without feeling dread and anxiety about what's to come, saying little prayers that this or that doesn't happen.  As confident as I feel (most of the time) about being a working mom, when my kids get sick, it always takes me back a notch.  I don't want to diminish the particular torture of stay-at-home moms who have to take care of their sick kids all day and night (especially if they get sick, as well), because that is just exhausting and unrelenting.  But when you're working too, there is a nagging anxiety about how you will fit in this unpredictable nonsense, and it's always coupled with a feeling of guilt that you're giving work or your kids the short shrift (although I've found that if you want predictability as to when your kids will be sick, plan a vacation, party or presentation at work, that oughtta do it.)  Am I going to be up all night before my presentation this week?  Will I or my spouse have to stay home?  Will I make it home for a doc appointment?  Does my child need ME?  Will my boss think I'm lying?  What if my nanny gets sick?  I've delayed much-needed doc visits until my pre-scheduled work-from-home days, and I've stayed home even when I was sure my kid would be fine with our nanny.  I've canceled trips and plans, and I've traveled with kids who had no business being out of the house.  I've walked out in tears, I've stayed home in tears.  No matter what side you land on, it's always stressful.  And HA! the joke is on you if you are foolish enough to get sick yourself.  You go to work regardless because you need to save your sick days for your kids and you don't want to infect them at home.  And then people look at you like, why is she here?  You can't win.

We're not an irregularly sick family; we usually go through the same cold/ear infection rigamarole most Chicago families do (I'm curious - do families in California deal with this too?? I'm willing to move).  But years of breastfeeding, probiotics and vitamins aside, we've gotten hit hard this year.  We've already been riddled with both kids getting the flu (they're fine), our younger one hospitalized for some bowel issue I hadn't ever heard of (he's fine), and me currently on day 9 of viral pink eye/head cold (btw my tactics on trying not to infect my children with one of the most contagious things out there while still having to make dinner, change diapers, breastfeed, give baths etc is nearing comical).  But I'm fine.  Well, I've lost my will to live, but otherwise, I'm fine. 

And it's only January 26.  JANUARY 26!  Sigh.  Cue the GoT music.  It's going to be a long winter.

You're not 1 yet

I just ordered the cake, so I guess it's official....you're turning 1.  I'm not sure how it happened.  It was yesterday that I wrote Letter to my First-Born, and now here you are; this sweet, joyful little person who bounces his butt to Taylor Swift,  is in love with a mangy stuffed bunny (named "bunny"), and laughs when people sneeze.

You don't know it yet, but things are about to change for you out in the world.  In 9 short days, they'll call you a toddler, they'll give you the OK for regular milk, you'll have your first party.  But me, I'll still be calling you baby, I'll still be nursing you, and while I will enthusiastically sing happy birthday to you at your party, all I'll be thinking about is the day you came to me a year ago on that snowy December night... the most peaceful, beautiful face I had ever seen, beaming with a light that hasn't ever gone out.  I'm happy, of course, that you are growing, but if I'm expected to just let it happen without a fight, well, they don't know your mama (it's a proverbial "they", by the way; there is no specific evil force aside from Father Time at work here).  I'm not there yet.

But, lucky for me, you're not 1 yet.  So I can slow it down just a little before you're tossed out of babydom into the noisy, messy world of toddlerhood, just to savor that sweet baby essence a bit more, and to let you in on a little secret...at 11 months and 21 days, you already know pretty much everything you need to know.  Sure, it'll be nice when you're over 3 ft tall and can say crazy ass stuff like your brother, but today, your heart and soul are already perfect.  Blow out (or spit at) the candle, start drinking out of a sippy and running around, but really, please, for this mama's sake, don't actually change a thing.  Especially these things.

- That smile -- when you smile, your whole face sparkles.  I swear it does, ask anyone.  You have some kind of innate radiance; you've had it from the minute you were born, and I only wish it could be bottled.  Something, someday, will make you sad, I know (yes, something aside from us taking  the shoes you want to lick away from you)...my wish is that you're always able to see the world through this same lens.

-You adore your brother, and he adores you.  I know you'll fight one day over toys and friends and life (hopefully not about girls, please don't fight over that)....but my wish is the current open-mouthed kisses and chasing after him when he leaves the room is actively altering your DNA such that deep down, no matter what, you will always have each other's backs.  He already advocates for you having 5 more minutes before your bedtime every night, so I can tell you that at 3, he already has yours.

-Your openness.  I know you can't really complain much yet, but there's an ease about you.  You already know how to go with the flow and adapt to change.  I hope you always raise your hand when things are really important to you, but that you are also able to roll with the punches and be open to life's ebbs and flows.  

-Your courage.  Before you jump off a couch you hesitate and make sure there is some kind of support there, but then you jump -  no holds barred.  I love that.  I hope you always jump when it feels right.

-Your affection.  For me, for your daddy, for your brother, for that mangy bunny.  You hug and kiss everything like you really mean it.  People will tell you boys shouldn't be so sweet, but I can tell you that strongest men I know really are.  Plus, girls dig it. 

-Your passion.  For food, for sports, for animals (ugh but the cat love may have to change)...whatever it is, you act with intention, you love with gusto.  Please don't get lazy, please stay passionate and (for your mama's sake), please continue eating copious amounts of food.

So fine, I know I'll get over this whole birthday thing, and we will have so much fun when you can talk and sing and run like your brother.  But in my heart, you will always be this perfect, sweet baby.  And down the line, when we're seeing you off to college (or you're selling your multi-billion dollar start-up, that would be fine too), I hope I am still reminding you not to change these same things; that you will still know that how perfect you've always been in my eyes.  Thank God you're not 18 yet. 

On Sleep Training (just kidding)

Who else is sick of reading judgy parenting articles, and then the articles and social media posts judging the judgy parenting articles?  I can hardly stand it anymore, so I have to go on an ironically judgy rant.  I belong to a couple of those FB mom-groups which, for the most part, are a great platform for exchanging information and offering encouragement.  But in the past 48 hours, I've seen 4-5 incendiary posts on one of these platforms about sleep training, followed by some commentary that is equally as self-aggrandizing and divisive.  Sure, I suppose I could stop reading it, but gawking at mommy wars is something like driving by a car wreck...you know you might see something that will upset you, but you just can't help yourself.

The current tagline among moms is judge lest you be judged.  But these types of posts and the commentary that follows show that that's not really what's happening.  Which begs the question for me... is it really possible to NEVER judge the parenting of another mom?  Maybe we are setting some unrealistic expectations and could look at it another way.  After all, don't we all have a few issues that we feel really strongly about?  Presumably, when we make choices related to those issues, it's after evaluating the options and ultimately determining what we think is "best."  I think it's natural that when we see someone else making a different choice about the same thing that we - dare I say it - make a judgment.

If you're not sure if you do it, don't worry, you do.  Whether it's sleep training or nursing or vaccines or discipline or private school or epidural or processed food or iPads or extracurriculars or TV or working, there is SOMETHING you care enough about that makes you react, sometimes not in a positive way.  Sometimes we admire another's choice, if it's something we wish we could have done.  But other times, maybe most of the time, what is perceived as "judgment" is really just a guttural reaction to something that helps affirm our own sense of what is or isn't right for us.  Feeling affirmed and validated isn't a bad thing in it of itself.  We all need it, from time to time.  In your first few years of being a parent, everything is new and you are often unsure that you're doing the right things.  But in the rare moments when you feel confident that you are making good decisions for your family, it's ok (I think) to bask in it a little, even if what made you realize that is seeing someone else do it differently.

However, putting other people's choices down and taking offense in a debate is an entirely different story. Internet commentary has put all mother-in-laws since the dawn of time to shame.  I have never thought, let alone said, that someone was a bad parent for doing X, but have I noted (to myself) that X is not something that would be right for me?  Sure.  Have I given myself a proverbial pat on the back when I hear of some problem we have worked hard (and successfully) to prevent?  Sure.  Do I feel miffed if someone tells me they'd do something differently than I do?  Sometimes.  I think making these judgments from time to time and feeling defensive when you're challenged is inevitable when you care so much about doing "right" by your kids.

Perhaps the message shouldn't be, "don't judge" but, instead, to forgive others when they do and be mindful when you find yourself doing it, as it may be a good opportunity to reflect on your own choices.  We should share information, but if we don't like information that's being shared, we can choose to disregard it and not take its circulation as a personal attack.  We can acknowledge that our strong opinions can coexist with those of others. We can stop working ourselves into a tizzy trying to justify our choices to perfect strangers (sometimes really to justify to ourselves that they are the right ones for our family).  A person who feels strongly against sleep training just won't ever see it the other way.  And that's ok.  There's probably something they do that you think is ridiculous.  That's ok too.  Judge away.  Let's all just stop taking it personally.  After all, in a few short years our kids will make us feel like we did everything wrong anyway :)

Over-the-Moon

Tell the truth Experienced Moms and Dads, do you ever walk by the couples who are clearly expecting their first child...you know the ones - they are euphorically walking hand-in-hand (in the city, because that's where they still live), leisurely perusing baby books at a bookstore, enjoying an inordinately long dinner while discussing an upcoming "babymoon" -- are you quietly (but loudly in your head) thinking...HA!  you don't know what you're in for!  Even as you congratulate your ever-growing inner circle who are starting to have children, and express all the right, trite -isms like "welcome to parenthood!"....are you really thinking, "thank god we're not the only ones!"  Not that I would ever rain on that "we're pregnant and so excited" parade for anyone...aside from the inconveniences and discomforts of pregnancy for the women, it is one of the happiest times in a couple's collective life.  You're filled with such anticipation and excitement and relief because you are on a road that you may have fantasized about your whole life...there is an abundance of love and well-wishes from every corner, families coming together, it's like a 9 month-long wedding without the booze (wait, that doesn't sound so great, but you get the point). 

In reality, though, that over-the-moon couple who is casually taking a walk by the lake is soon about to experience the biggest shake-up of their lives and they can't even see it coming.  Sure, they've heard about the lack of sleep (but we'll read Babywise and be sleeping through the night at 9 weeks, right?) and the colic (but we'll just shh, swaddle, swing, right?) and all of the other evils of the "fourth trimester" that obviously can ONLY be combatted with the ancient practices of gas drops, under-stimulation and eat/play/sleep...but the secret that only the Experienced Moms and Dads can tell you is that as hard as all of that stuff is, it's not what actually rocks your world.  The first few months, and perhaps the whole first year, are all about survival, but while you are wholly focused on the survival of your baby (and yourself), there is something else independently going on that no book, friend, mother, anything can really prepare you for.  You are becoming a parent, and man can that throw you for a loop.  At some point, whether it's months or even years after your child is born, it hits you...you are no longer the person you once were.  And I don't mean that every part of you centers around your children...but how you perceive the world, your relationships, your priorities, your aspirations...it all experiences a shift, some subtle and some extreme, some great and some not so great.  Just enough such that you'll have moments where you don't quite know who you are anymore.  This can be extremely disconcerting.  Especially when you realize that this new life is here to stay.  You are forever-more, first and foremost a parent.  It outlasts separation, and death.  You will never love anything more, you will never worry less, you will always be busy and tired, you won't ever make an important decision without considering them first.  There won't be endless dinners out or casual book shopping for a while.  It's the most wonderful, yet also the hardest thing you'll ever experience.  And it's forever.  Gulp.

But parenthood is also an ever-evolving state of being,  You never know what's coming next, or how it will affect you and the decisions you make for your life.  So accepting the sheer permanence of it all is hard enough; but also learning how to be open to changing and evolving in ways that are unfamiliar and unpredictable is damn near terrifying.  Yet - once you accept that it's happening - it can also be exhilirating.  Although there are things about myself I really miss (like the ability to stay awake through a movie), I am slowly learning to embrace this new stage as an opportunity.  Having children has forced me to focus on what I really care about, what I'm willing to speak up about, what I need to work on.   What really makes me happy.  This sort of exercise takes work and change takes courage.  I don't know all of the answers.  But I'm depending on my kids to teach me how to be agile. 

So, Experienced Moms and Dads, next time you see a blissful soon-to-be-parent casually shopping for a crib (while you run in and out of BabysRUs in 2.4 seconds with everything on your list so you can be back at home in time for nap), go easy on them.  They don't know the changes they're in for, it's true.  But knowing that they'll soon experience goodnight kisses, Saturday morning snuggles and the "you won't believe what he said today" recountings with their spouse at the end of the day should reassure you that they'll eventually be just fine.

Remember When

I think I'm officially in a new era.  It started to hit me after having my first kid, but at that point we still lived in the city and we still mostly ran around with the same crowd, many of whom were still single.  But now, 2 kids and a move to the suburbs later, I'm looking around and realizing that life is pulling everyone I know in different directions - whether it's marriage, or kids, a move to the suburbs, a move out of state, a job change.  It's all exciting and entirely normal, of course, but I'm looking into the barrel of a few of my best girl friends moving away and, well, I'm a bit wistful.  Wistful of a time when we would stay out until 4am on a Tuesday, when we'd wake up late on a Sunday and eat cheese fries in bed, talk about something other than men and kids (like what, I couldn't tell you), when we actually spoke on the phone, when we'd pile up in an old car to Madison and eat Steak n Shake both ways, when friends from Indy, Wisconsin, Nashville, wherever, would come and crash on our couch without notice, when brunch was not something you had to plan a month in advance.

I don't long to return to that time, but it is hitting me that it really is in the past now...soon it will sound like high school and college memories that you rehash every time you hang out with your friends from those eras, stories that are old but that can always be revived as if they happened the day before.  The "remember when" conversations.  It is quite wonderful to have friendships that span across the different eras of your life.  Your REALLY old friends knew you when you wore braces, still remember your parents' phone number,  saw you drunk for the first time...they understand why you ended up with your particular significant other and why you chose your profession because they knew all of your exes and studied for the SATs with you.  Then college/grad school/20s friends came into the mix...they found you as a kid and helped you become a grown-up, they were with you when you found out you passed the bar, they helped your boyfriend pick out a ring, they came to your first dinner party, they know what you actually do for a living.  It's surprising, at first, when you start to call these ones your best friends too, but at some point you realize they know you just as well, or even better, than some of those really old ones.

Some people fall out as you pass through these stages, but the ones who stick, they're yours for life.  There is no saying goodbye to them, but as lives change, inevitably so do the rhythms of your relationships.  I think a part of me had fantasized that we could enter the next stage - of settling down, raising kids - all in tact.  But in reality many of my close friends live in different cities, and those who live nearby are getting busier such that getting together takes planning and effort.  It seems I am entering a new era of friendship, of meeting people through our kids, becoming a part of a neighborhood.  These new people won't know how awesome I looked in jinco jeans, won't know what our go-to karaoke songs were, and may never know my maiden name, but they'll probably end up knowing my kids better than some of my old friends do, they'll drink wine in our backyard on Sundays and help us out when we lock ourselves out of the house.

One day, perhaps, I might even be able to call them best friends.

The New Normal

After almost 15 weeks at home with my two kids, I'm officially back at work.  I was riddled with angst in the weeks leading up to "the day."  The thought of coming back made me physically nauseous, made me regularly cry.  I just couldn't imagine actually waking up in the morning, taking a shower, and walking out the door.  Mind you, this is my second time returning to work after having a baby.  I should have known what to expect, right?  It should have been easier?  It wasn't.. it was actually much harder.  This time I was leaving 2 babies.  I hadn't really thought of the fact that I would also be getting 3.5 months with my 2.5yr old and leaving him would sting too.  Being with a newborn all day by yourself can be rather isolating, but having a sidekick toddler with you who sings "wheels on the bus" in the background while you nurse and frequently asks to hold and kiss the baby makes the newborn experience much more entertaining (although having the toddler in the mix means getting a nap in for yourself is damn near impossible).  My experience during this maternity leave was, just, different.

But then, just like that,  it was over.  As is the case with any day you're hoping never comes, my return date came so fast that I was completely unprepared and in denial until the last minute (at 11 o'clock the night before I found myself asking where is my work laptop?  where are my keys?  oh i guess i need to pack up my pump?).  In the morning, I woke up, took a shower, and actually walked out the door (well, after nursing my baby, packing my lunch, getting pooped on, frantically reminding our new nanny of a million different things, making a cup of tea that would do nothing to wake me up, etc., etc., etc).  But, I did it.  I left.  And I was sad, of course.  I knew I wasn't going to get my big morning hug from my waking toddler and I wasn't going to see my baby's sweet smile all day long.  I knew I would miss them.  But that's not really what made me sad.  The most common refrain you will hear from everyone when you go back to work is that you will get used to it and that it will get easier.  And they are 100% right.  It does get easier.  You get back into the working world and remember how great it is to sit and eat an uninterrupted lunch while surfing the web.  You appreciate having adult conversations, feeling smart again, showering every morning.  You become current on the news and songs on the radio.  You always miss your kids, but when you have a great caretaker and are reassured they are thriving, you worry less and less.  You treasure the time you have with them when you get home.  If they are fine, you are fine, and it becomes the new normal.  But that's precisely what has made me sad this time.  A part of me doesn't want me to just get used to all of it - only seeing them a couple hours in the evenings, not doing the school pick-up/drop-offs, not having breakfast with them.  A part of me is asking whether I want to get used to it.  Sure, when you work outside the home full-time you also skip out on much of the mundane home routine - which can be exhausting and repetitive - and you tend to make every minute you do have with your kid count, something you may not do if you are always with them.   But whether we like to admit it or not, we do miss out on things with our kids when we are away.  Not the big things, they catch you up on that stuff.  But some of the little things...the conversations in the car after school, the non-rushed morning cuddles, playing soccer in the driveway before lunch.  You have to ask yourself, is what I'm doing worth missing those things.  It's an extremely complicated question, because it requires you to evaluate your career (where is it going? am I in the right one?), your finances (could we afford different choices?  what do we want to be able to provide for our family?), your values (what kind of example do I want to set for my kids?), your parenting (are my kids in the best possible care? would they actually be better off with more time with me?), and yourself (what will make me the most happy? what are my life goals?).   I'm afraid that if I get used to the new normal, I'll stop actively making that assessment.  It's a running dialogue in the mind of almost every working mom I know, and yet I think at some point, it's easier to get used to the status quo and move on.  Mainly because answering those questions may result in taking a big risk on a new path, which is utterly terrifying (at least for me).  But this time, I'm fighting the urge to completely adjust, just for a minute, to make sure I'm on my right path.  And I don't know, maybe I'll never be completely sure that I'm making the best decisions, but isn't it worthwhile to continue to test and re-test our choices?