Here's to all the women I love

Thursday, June 19, 2008 by Bethany

Life changes when you have kids. Time is short. Money shorter. Fuses the shortest. And suddenly you find yourself living in the suburbs with a minivan (or for us a Honda Pilot), Cheerios between the seats, and spit up on your shoulder while your in a business meeting with high-level VPs (true story, very much like my Monday).

It's tough to explain the Parenting Profession to those that aren't. Or those that have all-the-time-live-in-nannies. Because quite frankly, when someone is around to help, they aren't bored at my house. When my son was born, I had some weird neurotic tendency to want to do bath, feed, nurture, read, cuddle, scorn, care-for, tease, laugh at, run around with... and quite frankly do it all for my son. All. Of. It. I had a hard time when a sitter arrived just feeling normal leaving the house. Now with my daughter--um, things are different. I run from the door prancing like and idiot that just got out of jail free card.

It's not because I love her or my now 5-year-old son less. Nope. It's because I know if I don't get this down time, I'll turn into a crazed mother destined for some prescribed time away. And, to clarify, when I go into the office, that is NOT time away. That is crazed Work Time that has it's own set of standards and stresses that I'd rather not discuss.

But all of this--the anxiousness, overwhelming love and longing, stress of parenting is not something you can just describe to a soon-to-be parent. Or even a parent to a 6 week old (they haven't been around long enough). But to a mom of say a 6 month old or so.. over martinis? Sure, start yapping. It'll take you at least until bar close to cover the main points.

Which brings me to this little post topic. Thank God I work with mothers. Hell, fathers are okay too, but at the moment, I could cry because of the moms I work with. Sure some are more experienced. Others are less. But man, oh man, when I had one of those days where biscuits are smeared all over my left shoulder, my hair is matted with spit up, less than 3 hours of sleep, and I had a flat time on the way in--and I STILL come into the office? Those are the women I want covering my ass. These women whom I can always count on to answer a text message, email, phone call gripe that has me close to tears-- hears to making this work. Somehow. Some way. And yeah, feel free to call me next time. I'll sing the sob story too.

Labels: life, me, motherhood, parenting, women, working

Always a Working Mother

Tuesday, April 15, 2008 by Bethany

One doesn't become a working mother. You're thrown into it. And on most occasions you dream of the greener grass. Days to spend with your child(ren). Endless hours of television. A house that's cleaner than it is now. And dishes that aren't always overflowing onto all the counter tops (or laundry overfilling hampers). But the reality is--working mother or not, all of the above happens. Life happens. Shit happens--and as mothers we find ways to pick up the pieces. Somehow.

And that is where I find myself today. Stuck in a work/life balance that really isn't a balance at all. It's drowned out by work. Work that is increasingly making me sick to my stomach and aching for a life that isn't as complicated or trying on my personal life.

Two years ago I would have made some psychological evaluation (with no education or premise to back me up), that this was cyclical. That after becoming mother, I wanted my "old" life back and pursued work. And once I did, I wanted a calmer existence back and then didn't want to work... and so on and so forth. In reality, I've always worked with both of my children. Never have I not. And usually, for me, I think this a good thing. It allows me to flex a different brain muscle, forces me to have adult conversations (even though they are about ROI, deadlines, and managing expectations), and gives me another "part" of my life that isn't all tied to family.

That is, until I land where I inevitably end up--with a project that sucks the life out of me and in turn hurts my family. I wonder than why the hell I do this to myself.

Obvious answer--money. Two incomes make life a ton easier. Grocery bills aside, we can afford a vacation every now and again. And when my laptop dies (like it did last week), we make accommodations fairly quickly. But what it doesn't do, is make up for the hours (and bills) I spend on day care while I go into the office. Or the hours I don't have with my kids. Or the amount of stress that spills over into coordinating yet another schedule between doctor appointments, picture days, and soccer practices. And that's just the kid stuff. Try eating between back-to-back meetings, a project meltdown, and a VP that decides a project must happen Today.

In the end, it's all fruitless. We work so we can spend time with our family. To vacation. To spend money on whatever it is we like to spend it on. But what the working doesn't give you--are those unlimited hours of fun with the kids. Or the mundane activities like dishes and laundry. Or just be you. In fact, I spend more time trying to relax when I am away from work, than I do enjoying myself.

Maybe it's because I'm a worrier at heart. I worry about my decisions. My Life. My children. My husband. My job. The fact that I haven't had a hair cut in like 12 weeks. All of it. It consumes me most days. At least until I start checking off my list of worries. Check it off, and off it goes to the bottom of the list until the next time around. But I'm digressing (again).

Frankly, I'm stuck. I'm in the middle of madness that has consumed me for the last 2 weeks. And honestly, if I look back at the month before that, I'd been consumed then too. Just not admitting it. And now I am in a precarious situation... how do I dig myself back out. Do I talk to The Boss again? Do I leave? Do I find a place that makes me happier? What really does make me happy?

There is no simple answer. There never is. But this I know. I'll always be a working mother. Just hoping at some point, it might be at home, in my pajamas and staring at a computer screen. Instead of in an office, in ballet flats and some too tight blouse that's trying to pass for sophisticated.

Labels: motherhood, working

It's Friday and I'm Still Working

Friday, April 11, 2008 by Bethany

Talk about a sucky beginning to my weekend. And it's not going to end. All. Weekend. Long. Yep, working through the weekend. That's what I get for volunteering for a high profile project. But don't let me bore you with the details here (hell, I could lose my job). Let's move on to the finer highlights of my Friday:

- The baby decided to save all her shit for me. Did that sound bad? Well it was meant to be literal. The baby sitter's here and she's all laughs and pissy diapers. The minute the sitter leaves? She gets the blow-out diapers no one wants to deal with (Four of them!). But, alas, it's part of the job description.

- Wood chips and puddles ruined a perfectly good pair of socks. The Kiddo was home today. After a couple-hour conference call this morning, I shuffled out the door to the new play set in the backyard (outdoor time after a rain is good right?). Only, it ended up evolving into endless questions about wet swing seats ("Here's a towel!"), puddles on the slide ("Here's another towel!"), Dog poop on his shoes ("What's up with the shit today?" and "Take a paper towel this time!"), and of course, the how come my pants are wet iterations. And the inevitable stocking foot step into the wood chip ridden puddle that happened to have a bit of dog shit mixed it. I wasn't stupid enough to just step in it once--that I did, then swore, then stepped back in it again while hoping to avoid the baby crawling into the mess. One pair of new white socks down (because washing them would be too easy)...

- Lunch at 4pm. Yep, it's been my latest lunch time. It sucks really because by then I'm shaky, cranky, and so pumped up with caffeine (coffee is my friend), I'd be better off hooking up an IV to fill my ulcered stomach

- Barking to awake the one nap my child easily went down for today. But this is normal behavior. So it isn't like I can complain that it's any worse today than it was yesterday. Though yesterday, I thought I might have my weekend to watch chic flicks and eat popcorn. Aw, optimism.

But really, it wasn't all bad. After the barking spasm by the dog and counseling the crying baby, I had one of those If This Moment Could Last Forever instances that melts your heart. The Peanut was on the floor army crawling to these little ball thingies. Loving her new mobility she scoots forward and giggles herself til she has hiccups. And, I, being all about the laughing, rolled her over to enjoy in her moment of happiness. We played raspberries, tickles, more crawling and pushing the ball around... all while my son joined in the fun. And we laughed. All of us. And that, might just make up for the crappy weekend or work. Maybe.

Labels: babysitter, life, me, parenting, The Kiddo, The Peanut, working

Confessions of a Super Tired, Extraordinarily Cranky, Over-Worked Mom

Tuesday, April 01, 2008 by Bethany

Is it bad that my daughter, this very instant, is army crawling at my feet with a rawhide dog bone in her hand. In a moment she'll put it in her mouth for a good ole chew. And, I'm considering not doing a thing about it. I mean, if it's okay for a dog with a mouthful of teeth to gnaw it to oblivion--then a 6 1/2 month old that is only geared to gum it into that soft goo won't hurt her right?

If I wasn't so exhausted, I would've taken it away (the bone) already. Or at the very least scanned the floor for the dog and 6-year-old toys before putting her down. But today--this last month--has been a blur. Work, breastfeeding, nuking chicken nuggets and pizza, conference calls, diaper changes, whining about not being able to play the Wii, single-parenting it while The Husband has other commitments, late nights writing, on-site meetings, taxes of the income and property variety, and waking all hours of the night with The Baby Who Will Not Sleep--I'm a bit on the exhausted side.

I'm anxious and unruly on my best days. Brain spinning with a to do list longer than the hours available but yet unable to focus on one. And I know it's bad when my fitful dreams are of work projects and house chores, instead of pink fairies, unicorns, and the awesome handbags I discovered last week online. I mean, who dreams about work and then admits it? It's the lamest confession I've made to date, but at least it's honest. And shows you how far in the gutter things have gotten. And out of control isn't exaggerating the obvious.

This past weekend I took a shower. Yes, can you believe it? I held the baby at arms length to The Husband and nodded toward The Kiddo, "Taking a much needed shower. Don't wait for me." Meaning: If you come in and bother me while the water is still hot and pounding on my sore arms and back, I might kill you. And get off for reasons of insanity. Don't even try it. The Husband knows the tone, and took the time to lock the bathroom door on his way out so that I would not be disturbed for a glass of red Gatorade. Or the screeching of The Peanut. I needed at the very least a shower of alone time. And I got it. It was long. Hot. Steamy. And full of tears. I'd realized I spent the first 3 minutes listing off the to-do list of my Saturday.

Groceries. Dishes. Laundry. Pick up Dry Cleaning. If the baby took a nap, I wanted to finish the work project. Get to that book I needed to read. Write the review... it went on and on and on. By minute four, the tears stared. What the hell am I doing? To-Do lists on a Saturday? Pre-child these were days of sleeping in til the afternoon, cold pizza, TNT movies, and hell, nothing. Here, I was cramming more than a normal days work of work into a few hours. And that included the day job. The one I am salaried to work in 40 hours.

It was an awful moment. Tears stinging my eyes. Hot water pounding on my shoulders. My arms weary from holding and extra-clingy 6-month-old, and throat scratchy from the cold I wasn't admitting was looming on the side. All because my life is a whirlwind. I wish I could say that the shower enlightened me in some way. But the water turned to the half cold state, and the steam wasn't pouring over the shower stall anymore and I was pruning into something that was beginning to look like my grandmother's hands. Which means, bluntly, I had to get out and face my family. The screeching baby that needed to be nursed, the son waiting for pancakes, and my husband who in a whole hour and a half already had a sore back from bouncing the baby around.

The minute my husband and I consented to have sex without prevention--we agreed to have children. And I love every ounce of them. It's all the other stuff I am having a hard time juggling right now. Who needs to worry about child care coinciding with work schedules, soccer practice, summer camp, and project schedules? And don't forget about paying bills, cleaning the house, taking showers, and eating. Or sleeping. It is all a harried mess.

Pre-child life is long gone, but I dream fondly of those moments of what was then called busy-ness. Hell, if I had one or two after work engagements and a birthday party over the weekend, it felt like craziness. But add in two children--and it's a whole new ball game. One that entails balancing what will drive you crazy first. Right now the choice is: a child that will start screaming if you pick her up or one that will happily chew on a dog bone for a few minutes while you finish the last e-mail of the day. And today, that choice is a damn hard one to make.

Labels: humor, life, me, motherhood, parenting, slice of life story challenge, working

The Day My Son Called Me On My Inappropriate Behavior

Thursday, March 06, 2008 by Bethany

I think it was the third time The Kiddo walked into the room and asked for some Goldfish crackers when I snapped. It wasn't enough that I was on a work deadline and was trying to cram that last bit of perfectionism into an e-mail with a crabbing baby on my knee demanding to be bounced. No. I had to have a 5 year old screaming for Goldfish crackers.

My mind was screaming "WHY ON EARTH DO YOU NEED TO KEEP COMING IN HERE TIME AND TIME AGAIN ASKING FOR GOLDFISH CRACKERS!" Definitely not appropriate in any case. But I was having problems channeling my inner (calmer) mom voice. The one who's leg and arm weren't exhausted enough from the last half hour of bouncing. And endless nagging for candy, or chips, or these damn Goldfish crackers. And I did the abominable. The one thing I hated of my own mother... I sighed. It wasn't a normal hidden sigh, it was loud exaggerated. The Queen Grandma-ma of all sighs. I was on the brink of losing it.

And my son--my lovely, honest, son--called me on it.

"Mom," he blinked innocently, "Why are you being so grumpy?" Blink. Blink. "And you're being mean too."

This time I think I blinked back. My son was calling me on my outlandish behaviour. True enough, I'd been weaseled away in my office (well, bedroom) working. Being distracted. And not paying attention to his little, effortless needs. Not that I hadn't been tending to the baby's needs (hell she had to be nursed only a whole 5 minutes earlier).... but him. The first born who'll be in school in September. Yeah. He doesn't need much these days. A hug. Kiss. Small discussions. And apparently Goldfish crackers. And I came this close to snapping at him.

I forced a smile, my inner-mom finally coming forward. "I'll get them here in a second."

"You always say that too."

Can this kid get any smarter? Or can I just shove him off into adulthood now. It might be easier than when he is 16.

"I know Kiddo." My eyes wander to the incomplete e-mail message. Is it critical I get this out in the next 15 minutes? Not really. It isn't like anyone will read it right way.

One more (hidden) deep breath and I walk to the pantry, grab the Goldfish crackers and sit him down for a snack. Just in time for The Peanut to want cereal. That "critical" e-mail? Didn't get sent for at least an hour. And you know what? The world didn't end.

Labels: motherhood, slice of life story challenge, The Kiddo, working

Disjointed & Discombobulated

Friday, February 29, 2008 by Bethany

It's been this way for a week now. My conscious is talking one thing, my actions another... and never the two shall meet.

Think I am kidding? Mid-sentence this morning on my weekly conference call I completely forgot my train of though. Poof! Gone. My mind suddenly swirling about the emissions test I must get done on the car TODAY or risk breaking some law and paying some fine. The reason for the call? Forgotten. Tossed aside. Back in the recesses of my brain flirting with the memory of my first kiss. Hell if it matters. Aside from the fact that my co-workers are convinced after I had the baby, I left my brain somewhere at the hospital too.

I'm not the only one in the household that is in this bit of a disconnect. Talking to my husband this morning, he's right there with me. Sure, you could blame a baby in the house. Today, for instance I've been awake since 4:30am since the baby decided she wasn't quite comfortable. Gas lined her intestine. Or hell, she just had 4 shots yesterday. Any of the three options could be the cause, or none of them. Regardless, after attempting more sleep for an hour or so I just gave up. Anyway, yes, it seems the adults in this house are just having a hard time keeping concentration.

Inclined to blame my environment, I've taken to blaming the weather. I lived in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (Da U.P. for you natives) for most of my life-aside the last 11 years. They get a ton more snow there than in Southeast Wisconsin, but this year, I feel like I'm still living in the U.P. And that might be the root cause for some of my tiredness and feeling of just (for lack of a more technical term) Blah. S.A.D.D. might be at work here (and yes, after spending my former college years in the throws of the snow belt, you do get this. Badly), or it just might be my frame of mind. Work is, um... well work. There is some crazy stuff going on there that I'm choosing not to discuss. Then there is the baby (love her to death, but at 6 months, you still get up at night). And then there is my crazy notion of writing novels--which has me up late most nights.

So what does one do to stay, um, connected? In my house, it's likely caffeinate ourselves silly. Which we did with no luck. Then I added in chocolate for good measure. And then I tended to bill paying, finances, and figuring out all that good stuff called measured debt. Fun stuff, ain't it?

Now, it did nothing but bore me to tears. And my mind still drifted to the possibility of adding a tattoo to my right buttock (I already have one on my front side, left hip). So the ability to focus was still not restored. But at least I know I can concentrate on something if I give myself a time limit. As in an hour for work and then an hour for fun. Max. Right now, with no option of taking a quick walk outside to regain a bit of energy, I'll take what I can get. And so, with the end of this blog post, I'm back to work for the remaining 20 minutes. Then, back to fun. Which might mean a good book, but likely means I'll be back to making another highly caffeinated coffee.

Labels: me, motherhood, parenting, working

Topless on a Conference Call

Wednesday, January 30, 2008 by Bethany

This isn't a set-up for a porn flick. That would be more--dare I say it--titillating than reality. I am a Most of the Time Work at Home mom with a nursing baby. Me sitting with my top off, nursing bra half open, and infant across my lap? Not that unusual a sight for anyone peeping into my bedroom window (not that there is anything to look at). But it does bring up, my latest dilemma: clothing choices for Going Into The Office Days.

When I work from home, I am the classic suburban mom. Hoodie, sweatpants, t-shirt, and if I'm feeling a bit sexy, I'll toss the sweats for some capris to show a little leg (or "cankle" as John Madden would put it). I know this conjures up a whole swirl of hottie-ness for you doesn't it? If it doesn't make you throw up.

Anyway, today was a different day. I went into the office. As much as that sounds normal, it is one of the first days I've ventured back in since the birth of babe 2 (after an adventurous holiday season, it is likely about damn time). This isn't that much of a feat, until you think about what my closet looked like. A sea of maternity clothes that hadn't been touched in 5 months, sweatpants that are stretched every which way but sideways, and all my pre-pregnancy clothes that I couldn't pry myself into if I'd starved over the last month. What's a woman to do?

It's after 9pm on a Tuesday night, it's not like Target is open 24 hours. The only other choice is Wal-Mart. Although the hours are better, it doesn't do a lot for style. And style is the one thing I want to have--it'll distract from the pudginess. And the fact that I'm still sporting red hair. Really red hair that's a bit of a shocker if you hadn't been warned.

In an effort to remain calm (at least on the outside), I decided a bit of cleaning was in order. If I wasn't going to wear these clothes in the near future, it was time to dump 'em. Quite literally. With an opened black, industrial leaf garbage bag, I took my arm and shoved the stack of maternity shirts, capris, and dress pants in first. I'd treated myself to the trendy Liz Lange fashions, and unfortunately, if another pregnancy is in my future, well the cute peasant shirts will likely be outta style by then.

Next I dropped the pre-preggo crap in too. Fourteen-month-old fake vintage Ts with worn armpits are definitely not coming back into style. And fitting into that size jean again? Well it is depressing to even think how hard I'd have to try to get back to that shape. So I'll just buy a new pair. The pre-worn, washed over 200 times look isn't that cool is it?

Last season's sweaters were tossed. The handful of blazer/jacket things I layered with suddenly looked old. And of course the good ole business casual button up blouses were thrown in for good measure as well. If it sounds like I didn't have much of a closet left of clothes left--it would be accurate of what the shelves looked like. Except for the t-shirts, hoddies, and sweatpants that is. And I still had to go into the office.

I was desperate. As a woman with dignity, and style, I just had to look good for the first day back. Even if I had barely 4 hours of sleep and was worried sick about the baby who doesn't like bottles. So, I got a little creative. I turned around to the "other" side of the closet. The husband's side. His offerings faired a bit better... at least to my tear blurred eyes.

Dark-washed jeans. Check. A white thin-like long-sleeve T-shirt. Check. And a sweater I had mis-placed and hadn't gotten thrown away. A cool sweater. With large buttons and length to cover my ass and thighs. A wide collar. It would look perfect with those tall, heeled boots I was gifted with for Christmas. And within moments, I was styled. With the only acceptable clothes in the closet.

Next week it will be a bit more challenging. But then again, I've got time. A credit card. And a ton of empty shelves. Now all I have to do, is get over my dismay of fitting rooms and mirrors.

Labels: clothing, clutter, me, women, working

The children. The job. The work.

Thursday, December 06, 2007 by Bethany

It's been a whole 3 full days since I've returned to work--and I'm exhausted. To the point that I could almost fall asleep sitting up. That is, if I wouldn't drop my daughter who is peacefully nursing after a rough night of going to bed. She's in a little routine of waking at night to be held and cuddles. Or at least that is what I think is happening--as 3 out of the 4 times she wakes she doesn't want nourishment. And, oh yeah, she screams her head off when she wakes up. So it's not like I'm able to sleep through any of this.

I chose to work from home with my son when he was this age as well--and its just as hard the second time around. If not harder--I really don't want to miss a thing with the new one. So I am attempting a bit of a lowering expectation exercise with myself. You know, for perfectionists, when you take a step back and realize you can't do it all... and let yourself let something go.

I can say I am doing well so far, but that is only because it has been a few days. I feel myself being pulled back into projects and the office politics. Even without a push. Or the desire to do more. So, right now, I am blaming exhaustion. My brain cells have been battered around with less than ideal sleep conditions, so it's worn down my drive. And that is a good thing. At least I think.

Where this new attitude has hurt me is with my night job--fiction writing. I am typically too worn down from the days rigmarole to even attempt writing any scenes or chapters. Thurs, my laptop sits open on the table waiting for me to start. Or my notepad lies open on the bed with my latest bullet point reminders. Which makes me a bit frustrated with myself.

Some might say getting up an hour or so early in the morning would help. But do you have an infant in the house? Because getting up earlier means possibly 4 or 5am. And then I have to attempt to work a full day after that. While chasing two children around simultaneously. It is a near impossible feat. I'm serious. I've tried it. And well, I'm sitting here bleary eyed and closer to drifting off than I'd care to admit. So, I'd say that is proof enough--serious writing is out of the question right now.

Let's just say, I'm aiming for the weekends. Hoping then the writing will come to me easier, and then at least when my phone rings or e-mail chimes, I'll know it won't be work calling me away from the two loves of my life. The children and the writing.

Labels: motherhood, working, writing, writing life

15 Days of Freedom Left

Sunday, November 18, 2007 by Bethany

Being more than a bit dismayed at how fast 10 weeks and some few days of maternity leave has passed, I've become a bit melancholy. Or if I really think about it, depressed.

In fact, it is quite clear that there are some sour feelings about the change that will occur come the third of December because I am eating us out of house and home. Sure, I'm nursing and that takes up-- what an additional 500 calories a day or so. But when I am eating an additional 3 times that amount in snacks, chocolate, and flavored mochas? Well, you see the problem. At least weight-wise. The real problem though is emotionally.

I'm all for mothers working--however they manage the child care and make it work for themselves. And in fact, my son from the time he was 2 years old until today--I worked in an office full time (and part time) and it was all a-okay. But this time around, with an extended absences from work with my daughter? It's really (really) hard to return.

It might be because I have been able to be home with her for so long, I've actually relaxed (with my son, I'd only taken 6 weeks off and then dove right back into work full time). Or it might be that I have actually "found my mother self." Or all of the 800 reasons between. However, any which way you look at it, the chaos of my life when work gets thrown back in--is not something I am looking forward to.

If all my conference calls could be done via instant messaging and e-mail? Well, I might be happier. Oh, and deadlines would have to be a bit more lax. And those pain in the ass projects (you know the ones you hate but have to do anyway)? Well, I'd just rather not do them.

On so many levels, as much as I need a non-mothering outlet, I'd love to focus on my writing. I mean, sure, I've had all maternity leave to write and NOW I am deciding to get serious I get melancholy about it--but the truth is, my brain couldn't focus on a whole bunch except these short blog pieces and some odds and ends writing until now. I mean, I'm producing milk to sustain a child and waking at all hours of the day and night--who can put together long, strung together thoughts?

Now, I'll have to get back on active duty at Corporate America and it is likely to suck the little ity bit of energy that has stirred in the back of my brain into all that work stuff. The insignificant crap that gets me a decent pay check. My writing will again be put a bit farther down the list of things to get done (don't worry--not too far down the list, just one--or two-rungs lower). And that makes me more than a bit sad. Unless of course I write like a banshee for 15 days and produce half a novel.

To which, I won't even try to set expectations like that. I know better. With the holiday and all... well it is impossible. Right?

Labels: motherhood, working, writing, writing life

The Internet and Finding Care Givers All Wrapped Into One

Friday, October 26, 2007 by Bethany

With a new baby in tow and my impending return to full time work at the beginning of December. I'm in a bit of a crunch. I need child care. With one kid this isn't an easy feat. But now I've got 2 and I have what one might call "special needs." First, I am going to work from home a few days a week, I have odd hours sometimes, and I have a newborn and an almost 5 year old that needs pre-school mixed in with his care.

Sure, you say, just call up the local day care and sign them up. But any parent knows that idea isn't as easy as it sounds. In fact, it is down-right cruddy. And after moving to a new area is almost killing any semblance of togetherness that I have thrown around me. I was all about signing everyone up at the "old" day care where my son attended. Thing is, they don't take part-time infants. Which--if I don't do the drive every day since I work from home a few days a week--is useless to me. Paying for full time infant care (which, let me remind you IS the most expensive) when I am not going to use it, is ridiculous.

So, I am left in a bit of precarious spot. One that I am not liking right now at all. It has my stomach in knots. I am back on the care-giver prowl.

There is only one bright spot in this all. I've been offered a free trial membership to Care.com. (in full disclosure, I was approached to review this site for its usefulness. And the fact is, I took them up on it. I AM in need of child care. What better way to see if this site works or not). The main goal of this new website is to help you find babysitters, nannies, and pet sitters. So in no more than a few minutes I registered and was able to cruise around the site for some initial investigation. Here's some initial thoughts:

The site is easy to navigate
Within seconds I had a list of care givers right in my city (used the form right there on the landing page).
I was able to view short bios, revise my search, and even check out any photos or web sites they offered as information
And if I were in the market for senior care, tutoring, or pet care services... well all of that was right there for my choosing too. In the top tab panel navigation I was completely able to switch in and out of the services I wanted to search into.

All of this was great. Even put me at a little ease. At least until I have to go about interviewing these child care people. Because one cannot be too safe these days. Especially considering I was thinking maybe (just maybe) I would have someone come to my home each day to take care of the kidlings. And bring The Kiddo back and forth to a pre-school program. Oh the variables and choices! I, seriously, hate this whole process (and thus far have avoided it). But I am forging forward. I have to! I moved on to the short survey so that I could request my full 3 month trial-period. In a matter of hours, I was all set up!

The full membership added some important additional features: access to actual contact information, references and their contact information (and videos), as well as the ability to perform a background check (you get 1 free and then pay for additional). Is this too easy? I mean, how much more can one ask for in a web site?

I'm not sure. I haven't gone any further in my investigations yet. I've narrowed my search by availability of the caregiver. By the age range of children they have had experience. By other duties they might cover. If they had transportation. And then of course a million other questions and concerns I had reading their profile. Because--as you know--finding a care giver for your children is huge. So huge in fact I am still queasy starting this interview process. But, well, I don't have a choice.

You want to check them out too? It's easy, just go here and fill out the survey. If you qualify, you'll get a 3 month trial membership too. And maybe we can compare notes. Because I am still uneasy. An anxious. And all those things I said I wouldn't be when I said I was going back to work.

Oh and if you decide to go about registering for the official Care.com benefits (outside the 3 month trial)? Here are those details too (or go to the site here for full details):

Basic membership is Free. But all you get to see are brief bios. No contact info, no references, no... well not much. But at least you can see if there ARE care-givers in your area.
Monthly Membership (which I term as Basic plus Membership paid monthly) is $10 a month with a $30 set up fee. This includes: Seeing all bios, posting jobs, seeing contact information, 1 free background check with option to pay for others, and references. Basically full run of the site. And what you get in the trial period.
Now, if you want to go all out, you can get the Annual Membership. It costs $100 (no set up fee). It includes everything in the Monthly Membership, but you don't have to pay for the background checks (or at least that is what it seems like. You would have to register with this membership to confirm.

Anyway, that is the info as I know it. I am still in the throws of looking for child care. So I am not really sure of the quality of people that this site attracts. But as soon as I come out the other end of the child care madness, I'll tell you what scenario I ultimately ended up choosing. And whether this site helped or not. Until then, browse. Or even sign up for a trial yourself!

Labels: motherhood, parenting, working

The Honeymoon's Over

Friday, September 21, 2007 by Bethany

The truth of it all is that I am having a hard time relaxing. I'm constantly fiddling with diapers, laundry, dishes, and... well nursing a 3 week old kid, attending small lunches with friends (to show off the baby of course), and finding a spare moment to spend quality time with the Kiddo. Before I know it, my time away from work will be over and I'll have to go back. And, well, I won't have relaxed and enjoyed my time with The Peanut.

Is this normal? I mean, when I was preparing for my leave I had grand plans of afternoons of motherhood. Pure, uninterrupted motherhood. The days I dream about when I am in the midst of a work deadline and have spent over 8 hours on conference calls and still have about 4 hours (or more) of work to complete to make our dates. And here I am, anxious. Nervous. Stomach turning almost every morning and afternoon with unfounded nervousness that I can't quite put a finger on for a cause.

And then there is the whole going back to work. And as much as I don't want to admit--I don't want to go back. Again. I didn't when I had The Kiddo, and I'm at that place again. I'd like to think that is the reason why my stomach can't quite settle itself and why I just can't enjoy my motherhood skin (because, well, I won't be able to continue that precedent when I go back to work). But somewhere in my skull, I think it is more than that.

My hunch is that it all comes down to security. And all the unspoken mom stuff that we don't always talk about. Of course the is the exhaustion. The bone dry, hard working, keeping a baby alive exhaustion that comes along for the first year of life. Then there is all the uncertainty around a new being--is this how they want to sleep, are they still breathing, what was that noise they just made, and how can I make it through another restless night of no sleep--and well, just all that stuff that makes us mothers. And then there are all the questions. Endless questions from what I can only hope are well-intentioned family and friends. How is the baby sleeping (she isn't, she's 3 weeks old)? How is she eating (constantly, that is what they do at 3 weeks)? Is she crying all the time (only when we change her diaper and she is hungry)? How are you sleeping (see response to the first question, I am not)? Are you napping when she is napping (um, I have to eat and urinate every now and again don't I)? How about overwhelmed, are you there yet (when haven't I been)?

You get the idea. As much as all of these people really think they are helping. Or at least making conversation and small talk--it really doesn't help my stomach. Or nerves. Not only do I feel like a broken record, repeating the answers over and over, I feel like every time I answer I am failing in some way. Not that any answer is failing--but it seems everyone knows someone who had a newborn sleep in 4 hour stints or more right from the womb (and if you DO know someone like this, please get them in touch with me... I tend to think that is some urban myth). And then it just makes me feel like shit because of course, I am not sleeping a wink (well I am sleeping but about 2 hours at a time if I am lucky).

And then there is the age old emotion all mothers feel. Whether you intend to or not (or whether you try to suppress it or not)--Worry. Constant worrying.

I never lost that worry with my son. And now with my daughter it is compounded almost three-fold. And I'm sitting right in the middle of it when all I want to do is enjoy this time away from work. Away from my normal life. I want to hold my son at night to tell him I love him one extra time--instead of logging back onto work to finish up some final details for a project. I want to nurse and hold my daughter long into the night so that I can watch her little hidden smiles she shares deep in her sleep (at least until I see those same smiles in the day time). I want to spend weeks away from my cell phone and computer checking text messages and e-mails that require my immediate attention. I want to use the part of my brain reserved for all those work details for something more valuable, like more family memories of late fall days of doing nothing, but everything with my kids and family.

Instead, I can't relax. I can't let go. And I can't seem to get it out of my head that I am now a mother of two that still knows nothing about how to enjoy her time as "just a mom." Because right now, I'd love to be just a mom for at least another 13 more weeks and remember every second of it.

Labels: baby, motherhood, parenting, working

The story of my life

Wednesday, February 28, 2007 by Bethany

Wanna life-trade for a day? Imagine this:

-- 8am conference call. No really. Here's the full picture. Naked kid giggling hysterically after a bath in front of me. Cell phone in the crook of an already tired neck (2nd call of the morning), trying to dress the wiggling off spring--while sitting on the floor, half dressed myself. And then being asked a question. While negotiated the day's clothing. When can you just refuse to unmute?

-- Call number 3. In car. Half way to work. Child screaming for an instant breakfast. Pop Tart. maybe chips. Maybe juice box. Maybe nothing. Oh yes, more questions that need answering on the conference call.

-- 4 hours later. On yet another conference call. Knowing it is right (in the business sense) to pick up another project. Realizing I losing my handle on sanity quickly. There aren't enough hours in the day.

-- It was after 3:30pm before I went to bathroom for the first time that day.

-- It was after 4pm and I still hadn't eaten a thing.

-- I cooked dinner while on a yet another conference call.

-- It was after 10pm and I was still working. Does that count as over-time? Or comp-time? Please tell me I am not alone in the chaos.

And lastly, this craziness (oh, sorry, I mean routine) is normal these weeks. So normal, my son asks me--in a matter of habit-- if I am on a conference call before he speaks to me.

So, my offer stands. Life-swap?

Labels: life, motherhood, working

Homesick Traveler

Monday, February 12, 2007 by Bethany

I've been traveling again. Wish it were for a leisurely vacation--but alas, it was not. I was in the Sunshine State on business. (And for your information, being rushed to Florida in the dead of a Chicago winter does lessen the work pain just a bit). But it doesn't change the routine. Every time I jump on a plane and find myself in an entirely different part of the country, my mind wanders to the imaginary.

What would it be like to live here? Inevitably the thoughts turn to what it would cost to buy a home. Where? Would I want to? What type of home would I want? Benefits of living in the new place--and what would this new and assumed improved life of mine be like.

This trip was in no way different. The daydream was only intensified as a day earlier, I'd left -11 degree weather for something near the high 70s. It was sunny blue skies and green lush landscape, do you blame me?

Anyway, my point is that I became obsessed with my imaginary life. Driving down the expressway I was eyeing the best homes, the fixer-uppers, and everything in-between. Our glorious GPS system let the imagination grow as it took us different routes (through neighborhoods) to avoid the less than desirable traffic. And I even started planning how I'd trim down on my latest belongings to make the move happen.

Then I remembered I already own 2 homes. One of which I am still trying to sell. And move into the other completely. And that, really, as much as Florida has wonderful dead-of-winters, there summers are hotter than I can handle. Hell, Illinois summer heat can get to me, I'd never manage the south.

Labels: life, travel, working

Curse the Nap Lords!

Monday, January 08, 2007 by Bethany

I so wanted a nap today. A lazy, late afternoon nap next to the kiddo and husband who had returned from a trip over the weekend. And because I was tired. Bone tired. It's Monday and I hadn't slept well in the husbands absence with a sick kid. I wasn't blessed enough by the Nap Lords.

At 4:30pm when they both were fast into nap land (albeit, very late for a nap, but who was I to complain when I desperately wanted one. Even if it was 5ish) I longed to feel the kicking feet of a toddler in my ribs. But, Ah, no. The lovely part of working from home. You watch others do the at-home thing, while you do the at-work thing.

At 5:30 ? Well they were still asleep... and I was still working.

And when I closed shop near 6, I snuck into the bedroom, blanket cuddled around my shoulders hoping to get only 6 minutes of shut-eye and I was greeted with, "Hi Mom!" Uncontrollable giggles, "How come you didn't snuggle?"

Labels: life, motherhood, parenting, working

Are you pimpin' out on me?

Monday, December 11, 2006 by Bethany

You are trying to get me crazy!
- the Kiddo, 4 years old

Honestly, I don't know what I did to deserve days of nut-ball issues and a housing adventure that just doesn't end (that would be the selling and buying thing. And unpaid back tax bills). It was like all hope of Monday being pleasant came pounding through the sky in a bolt of lightening to spear me through the heart to taunt me. Or at least jeer me into a early morning conference call, that ended so quickly I was mistakenly disallusioned the day might get better. That is until I set a goal to finish my latest project deadline.

But, hey, enough about work. I might get fired (note timestamp, Internets. It is after-hours. Thankyouverymuch). Not that you find the work stuff that interesting-- no one does. I'm a technical writer. There isn't anything too exciting about that. No matter what way I spin it.

The other part of my angst comes from home upheaval. Aside from moving my ass north a few 30 miles, packing all my belongings, and belaboring the point that I am paying on two mortgages--I am again a stay-at-home-working mom three days a week. Yes, that means, the kiddo--all four years of him--is with me full time three days a week to keep me distracted from the day job. Err, I mean, quietly playing at the kitchen table while I am pining away at my deadlines.

At first I thought this little shift back to the good ole days would be welcome. I'd get to take little excursions to the grocery store, Target, and when the weather breaks a bit build a snowman (or watch from the window). Hell, I daydreamed about getting back to homelife a bit. I'm not too womanly to admit that jumping back into full time work guns a blaring was fine (even glorious) at first. Then, I got homesick (or kid-sick).

But, now, I'm groveling. I'm part-time mom worker and I'm not liking being back at home with the kid. Sure, I love not missing a beat with him--knowing he took his nap and ate his lunch. But having to occupy him all day? I'd rather be at the office.

Sure, I'm exhaggerating some, as it is my blog and I have a right, but the differences from a 2 year old (as he was the first time around when I worked from home) and a 4 year old are tremendous.

First, he can talk a lot. From great big long sentences that entertwine, require me to think of appropriate responses, and almost always request some form of my attention to the fact that he he is independent can make for a bit of a challenging day. The whole I-can-dress-myself-Mom part is wonderful (who would have thought that that the kid can match a Spiderman T-shirt and Superman pants that actually match and are adequately warm for a gusty winter day in Chicagoland). But this is what is killing me--"Mom? What are we going to do today?"

The question seems simple enough--eat breakfast, brush teeth, get dressed, play, watch a bit of television. But then the inevitable happens. The question that has me running haywire through each and every room of my house, "What's next?"

And as every good 4 year old does, he holds me to it--no matter WHAT I tell him. Want to color? Sure, then right after we watch Go Diego Go! we sure as hell better break out the crayons and tablet of paper or hell will break loose. Did I say we might build a Lego bridge? Oh, pardon me for having to take a call from work--or say finish eating my own lunch before 3 in the afternoon.

Two short years ago, I thought I was juggling too much--motherhood, working from home full time, a husband who worked long hours, a wild terror of a dog, two cats (one quite sickly), and a two year old. But the thing is, I had no idea what it was like to do all of the above (without the sick cat. she pulled through), with a four year old. Sure he can take care of himself a bit but when do the universal pointed finger to lips to be quiet sign he's learned it doesn't mean a damn thing. Even when I am mid-sentence with a Vice President of something or other.

Labels: family, kid, motherhood, working, writing life