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Family Life

Working Mom

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Three hours into the eight hour flight and I could feel the vomit starting to rise up in my throat. I thought about the fact that the plane was over Nova Scotia, and that seemed comforting to me. We had crossed the ocean and it was literally down hill to Dallas.  I cornered the stewardess and in hushed tones explained the situation; “I’m ten weeks pregnant and I’m fighting off morning sickness. Is there ANY food on this plane that I might be able to have in order to keep my stomach preoccupied?”  The stewardess, seeing the distress and desperation in my eyes, quickly conceded that indeed first class had pizzas and she would see if she could get me one.  As the plane started its decent into Dallas and I faced an hour commute home and then another three days left in my work week I thought to myself; “this is not how I envisioned motherhood”.

I’ve relayed that story hundreds of times to people explaining my decision to quit my high-paying job in media and stay home with my kids.  When David and I made that decision we knew it was temporary.  I would stay home until we could no longer afford it, or until the kids were in school.  We made that decision in 2006.  Four years later and I’ve faced some surprises and revelations about working and being a mom.

#1: I Missed Working

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t miss my job.  Not for one second have I missed sitting in meetings, listening to whining clients or having to fly off to some city at a moments notice.  Nope – never missed it.  What I did miss was the constant affirmation of my self-worth that I received from working.  People valued my opinion, my intellect and my abilities.  I spent years complaining to David that he didn’t appreciate what I did at home, but the truth is that I was the one that wasn’t valuing my new job at home.  I craved the feedback that a job brings – not the financial affirmation (although sure that is part of it), but the psychological affirmation of my self worth.

#2 Working Moms Need Help

The only reason why I was ever able to work before or now is because of the help and assistance that I PAY FOR.  Once I returned to part-time work (and recently back to full-time) we have had nannies.  I cannot say enough about the amazing women we have been lucky enough to bless our home.  I’ve written about Micki before (our current nanny) and indeed Mary Poppins has nothing on Micki. This woman is the wife that every working mother needs.  I tell her at least once a week that I don’t pay her enough for all the help that she provides and indeed there is not enough money to compensate somebody for loving and caring for your children as much as you do. I would never tell anybody how much she does for me or they might try to steal her away.  But let’s be honest, I can be super mom because of Micki – she makes me look good at every corner.

#3 The Right Job Makes A Difference

It was almost unimaginable to leave Lucy at home and return to work. I liked working in advertising but after I had kids the whole business suddenly seemed silly and pointless to me. I was working for the very industry that in some regards I wanted to protect my kids from. I don’t know, I couldn’t justify what I was doing at work versus what I COULD have been doing at home.  However, when I started teaching everything fell into place.  I LOVE my job and when I leave my house my mind easily focuses on my “kids” at work.  They have my undivided attention and care.  When I’m home my real kids have my attention.  Plus, I have a job that affords me the flexibility to leave and pick Lucy up from school or run a child to the doctor’s office if I need to do that.  All of these things add up to an ideal work situation.  If you don’t LOVE your job it makes leaving and being away from your kids so much more difficult.

#4 It Is Always About The Sacrifice

We all make sacrifices for motherhood. As a working mom I made the sacrifice of not being around for my kids but as a stay-at-home mom I made the sacrifice of patience and at times personal happiness.  Teaching has allowed me to have the right amount of everything.  I’m working and using my brain which brings me personal affirmation and happiness, but at 2:30 I’m done and I get to pick my kids up from school and be a mom.  This is a hard balance to strike and I recognize how lucky I am that I have found this balance in my own life.

At this point I’ve been on every side of the fence; full-time working mom, full-time stay at home mom, part-time working mom, etc  What I’ve learned from all of these variations is to be flexible.  Different stages of life require different combination of work/life balance.  At certain times I needed to be home and at other times I’ve needed to work.  There is no easy answer and no side of the fence is greener.

Uncategorized

Harper

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It suddenly occurred to me that I have told you nothing about Harper since she was born. I’ve kvetched, I’ve whined, I’ve complained, I’ve cried but I’ve said nothing about Harper the person outside of the fact that she exited my womb.

Well, here she is at not quite 8 months old:

While pregnant with Harper I used to feel this uncontrollable urge to giggle when I thought about her. At times I thought it was just a “girl thing” but as her delivery date drew closer I began to realize that it was her – she was going to be funny.  Indeed my little Harper loves to laugh. Her giggles come easy and often.  Like her older sister she is laid back, easy going and takes the world in stride.  My mother used to say that “God gives you the children you deserve” and I must say she’s right.  Lucy was a very easy infant which was good because I was fairly certain I was going to kill her with my stupidity.  Max was challenging but that was because of my over confidence in my mothering abilities, and Harper, well, Harper is happy.  Considering the tumultuous and at many times flat out depressing year we’ve been having at the Casa de Morley Harper has been a welcome breeze. Her easy laughter and quick smiles have continued to be the best part of 2010.

Family Life

Stuff

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Stuff. We all have it. Some of us can’t get enough. We buy stuff, sell stuff, hoard stuff, collect stuff, give stuff away. George Carlin did an entire comedy routine about his stuff.  But it’s just stuff, right? If given the choice between our family and our stuff we would easily give up our stuff. It is, after all, just stuff.

But what would you do if you lost your stuff? All of it. Gone.

This past week my in-laws lost their home to a house fire.  They had just purchased this house two months prior. It was their retirement home. Although they weren’t fully moved in yet they had already connected their heart to the house. It was their home. They had put THEIR STUFF in it.  In a matter of thirty minutes the entire house was ruined and everything in it.  Forty-plus years of a marriage, raising kids, and grandchildren were up in smoke.

We wandered through the house looking at David’s little league team photos lying on the garage floor with soot rubbed around the edges, Max’s toy guns, Lucy’s Barbie doll, wedding pictures, school day mementos, Christmas decorations made in kindergarten, books from long ago — all destroyed. Some reeking of smoke, others destroyed by water, others a pile of ash, and the chant begins; “it is just stuff”.

Is it though? Our stuff. The crap that we fill our houses with is part of who we are – it is an extension of ourselves.  Even the native in a remote village in some foreign land has established a homestead of some kind.  He has stuff. He has a hut, a bowl, a bed, a knife – stuff. If he were to lose his stuff he would feel just as violated as my inlaws feel right now.

We are so quick to be righteous when we talk about our material belongings. We are pious about it. We all claim not to care about our stuff. But, we really do care. We spend a lifetime collecting it, shaping it, making it our own. It helps define our footprint in this world. Our stuff grounds us and makes us feel safe.  Our stuff is a security buffer between us and the world.  When your stuff is violently taken away from you, you are left feeling vulnerable.

My precious inlaws are fine. Nobody was hurt. The house will be rebuilt and new stuff will be accumulated.  It is, after all, just stuff.

Family Life, Kids

Max & Harper: A Love Story

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He looked at her with wonder but also with a deep desire to keep her close. He instantly put her soft small hand in his.  That was all it took. He knew he would forever be bonded to her. Every morning he greets her with smiles, giggles and a warm embrace. During the day he is continually checking on her happiness, comfort and needs. She is never to want for anything. He hovers over her like a guardian angel. He is never far. Every action is taken with one eye on her. Each of her successes and disappointments recounted in detail and with care. Their hearts and histories intertwined.

Family Life, Kids

Retail Marketing For 1st Graders

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Lucy & Max have nagged at me for weeks to set up a lemonade stand.  Finally with some coordination with our nanny Micki we got one set up.  When I picked Lucy up from school that afternoon and told her that the lemonade stand was waiting to be opened she squealed with delight and took off running.

Now, at 3:00 in the afternoon it is about 95 degrees outside.  When we arrived home Max was sitting at the booth in front of the house with sweat pouring down his head.  He had already decided the lemonade stand was “no fun” and that he was hot and wanted to go inside.

Lucy on the other hand was invigorated with potential.  She envisioned neighborhood kids lining up down the street waiting to partake in the refreshing delight of her lemonade.  Lucy pulled up her little red lawn chair and sat down eagerly with a smile spread wide across her face.

I sort of counted on the idea that the heat would suck the fun out of running a lemonade stand and they would quickly give up.  However, Lucy was not so easily discouraged.  Soon enough a young girl on a bicycle came skirting down the street as she made her way home from school.  Lucy straightened and awaited her stop at the counter.  The girl didn’t stop but without notice glided by Lucy with no recognition that she even existed.  Lucy dropped her shoulders in disappointment but not too far behind came a father with two little girls walking home from school.  Once again Lucy pulled herself up tall and smiled cheerfully fully expecting a lemonade purchase, but once again was summarily ignored.  This scene repeated itself two more times before the pain of disappointment washed over Lucy like the runner-up at a beauty pageant.  Tears exploded out of her eyes as she exclaimed “WHY DOESN’T ANYBODY BUY LEMONADE?”  When I tried to tell her that maybe they didn’t feel like drinking lemonade she grew hostile and screamed out “EVERYBODY LIKES LEMONADE!! HOW CAN YOU NOT LIKE LEMONADE ON A HOT DAY?” Now, I must admit that her logic there was infallible.  I tried a different tactic and said to her that perhaps these people didn’t have any money.  This was the final straw.  She flung herself to the ground, big swollen tears pouring down her face and she burst forth with “WE SET ALL THIS UP AND WENT THROUGH ALL THIS TROUBLE AND NOT A SINGLE CUSTOMER!! I WANTED AT LEAST 15 CUSTOMERS.  WHERE ARE THE CUSTOMERS? WE WENT THROUGH SO MUCH TROUBLE!!”

There I stood with sweat pouring down my back and my little girl in tears, absolutely tortured by disappointment.  I sat Lucy down and knowing that my daughter has the logical thinking of a 50 year old explained to her the idea of demographics and market analysis.  As simply as I could I said to Lucy, “you have to realize sweetheart that you can only sell something if there are people around to buy.  We counted on the walking home from school crowd to buy our lemonade, but that market ended up being weak and not as robust as we had hoped.  Now we must consider a secondary market.  May I suggest the coming home from work crowd?  We’ll take the stand down for now and set it back up when people are driving home from work and walking their dogs.”

Lucy instantly understood the logic and promise of this solution.  She perked right up, agreed that this seemed like a sound marketing strategy and quickly delegated (like all good leaders).  “Mommy, you put the supplies on the porch.  We’ll bring the lemonade inside and when we come back out tonight, I think we should bring cookies. “

Personal

When I Grow Up I Want To Be….

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I’ve never wanted to be famous. I think it is odd how the generation behind me seems to be so obsessed with fame. What a strange thing to crave. Is it the money they want? Because honestly there are easier ways to make a lot of money than being famous.  Recently I have realized that there are certain alter life paths I wish I could have followed.

Path #1: Bad Ass Gun Toting Super Hero

Part of me has always longed for the ability to pull a gun out and shoot. Not that I would want to kill a person. No, I don’t think I would actually have the courage for that. However, I wish I had the confidence and lack of fear that a bad ass gun toting super hero needs to have. I would like to have the training that it takes to know that if somebody came into my house to do something bad I could take them down. A sort of Trinity from “The Matrix” meets Wonder Woman meets Word Girl.  Not to mention that looking good in spandex would be a plus.

Path #2 Stand Up Comedian

This is a rather selfish ambition because this has less to do with wanting to make other people laugh as it is that I just like to laugh. I like to be funny and I like to be around funny people. As a writer I’m plagued with adequacy. Regardless of profession the truly successful are driven to the point of extreme. Famous, successful writers write because they have books longing to be poured from their soul. Yeah, not a lot of yearning going on inside of me. Same is true for humor. I like to think that I’m funny and I have moments of funny but funny enough to make other people laugh? Not so much.  I have just enough ability at humor to make sure my lectures don’t put my students asleep, and even that is debatable.

Path #3 An Incredibly Fit And Comfortable With Nature Anthropologist

I loved anthropology in college.  I like to fanatasize that in another life time I might have travelled the world studying strange cultures and learning interesting languages.  What has prevented me from doing this is that I don’t particularly like to sweat, and bugs.  I’m  like a delicate lotus flower that would melt under the heat of a strange land and my personal disgust of large unidentifiable bugs (well, really anything larger than a cricket) is about enough to send me into a full blown anxiety attack.  However, if I knew that I would look amazingly cute in a pair of khaki field shorts and a tank top I might be willing to overcome these things. As things stand for now I can only dream about a life filled with sitting around camp fires talking with people in loin cloths.

Family Life, Kids, Marriage

Boys Will Be Boys

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Nana camp is an invitation only event.  My mother-in-law takes all of her grandchildren for a week of crafts, activities and general grandparent indulgence.  This year while Max and Lucy traveled to Nana camp Harper and I took our first plane ride up to Michigan to visit my parents.  My parents have yet to see Harper and so we took this opportunity to introduce them to their seventh grandchild. This left David home by himself. FOR A WHOLE WEEK.

During his unexpected bachelor time he decided to do some home improvement projects.  While I was envisioning the hanging of shelves or the painting of walls, he envisioned maybe hanging a picture and going fishing.  Now, he did hang the pictures in the kitchen and I am incredibly grateful for that.   However, this is what I found sitting on my kitchen counter when I returned:

This is a phenomenon.  Most women I talk to speak of the same occurrence in their household.  A home improvement is FINALLY completed only to be left with a table/counter full of tools.  I’ve actually waited to see how long it would take David to put the tools away and the longest I’ve been able to hold out was four months. His argument? He is planning on still using those tools to do another project. Where? When? What? Nobody knows, but someday he will need those tools again and it would be so much more convenient to use them if they just sat on the kitchen counter until then.

Even though Max was the only boy at Nana camp with a plethora of female cousins he managed to have a great time swimming, fishing and playing in the air conditioning (he wasn’t so keen on playing outside and being hot).  He also left me a little surprise on the kitchen counter:

Max gleefully explained to me that he made a “brown snowman”.  So very thoughtful of him to bring me back such a sweet homemade gift from camp.

Ahhh boys, you gotta love ’em.

Family Life, Personal

Plans: Part II

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Hi.

Yeah, so life has been a bit…crazy? No, that seems cliche.  Overwhelming? Surprising? Unplanned? Yes, I suppose all of those things.  I’m a person in transition and well, a person who likes plans definitely doesn’t like transitions. I couldn’t be more uncomfortable right now if I was wearing a coat made out of human skin.  The other day David sent me the following text message: “When shit gets real you’re the person I want to be with”.  The shit has most definitely been real lately.

David quit his job. We then spent the next three weeks in a heavenly bliss of unemployment.  A mini-vacation into Hakuna Matata world where everything seemed like a giant rainbow and bluebirds were singing on our shoulders. However, contrary to popular belief you really can’t pay the mortgage with singing bluebirds. ( know, who could have guessed that?) David got a new job and I went back to teaching.

Sigh.

David’s  new job has definite advantages, including a 15 minute commute (this is much better from the 1 hour commute he’s had for the past 8 years of our marriage). He has returned to working with some dear friends and that is always nice. However, it is still work and it is still advertising and so that still means long nights and big projects. We’re adjusting.

We’re still living in a house that is in transition and at the end of the day I think this is driving me crazy more than anything else. I have books stacked — EVERYWHERE (#1 problem faced by English majors and teachers around the world: book storage. We don’t ever get rid of them).  I have boxes packed and stacked and the garage is a tumbled combination of new, old and garbage. Every room screams for a new piece of furniture, artwork, carpet or now a cleaning. Every wall is blank, every window bare, and I desperately want order.

David wistfully mentioned to me how much easier our lives would be if we didn’t have children. Indeed, life would be simple. My house would always be in order and clean. We would always have enough money. David and I would always have time to talk about subjects and things that interest us.  As we both laid in bed and reflected on that alternative universe the selfishness of it all made me sick to my stomach.  I recognize that many people are very happy being childless. I, however, could never be one of those people.

My house is chaos, but that is because it is bursting with life.  That much life cannot be neatly contained.  Life must overflow, squeeze out around the corners and fill every crack and crevice. There will be enough time at the end of my life to enjoy a clean kitchen.  For now, I’m just going to kick the Hot Wheels out of the way, toss the Barbies off the kitchen table and sit in the moment.

(editor’s note: I wrote this post about three months ago. I suppose it is a reflection of how truly chaotic things have been that I’m only now getting around to publishing it. However, I liked this post, and I feel that it truly captures what my summer was like).