Today is ‘officially’ Mother’s Day. But let’s get real. Every day is Mother’s Day. Meaning: every single day we mother, we are mothered, we are loving, we are loved, we are our children’s mothers, we have our own mothers, aunts, sisters, friends, mentors, and incredibly brilliant women in our lives that brilliantly impact our lives,…
“JUST a Mom?” “Oh, you don’t work?” If one more person would’ve said those phrases- I might seriously go all Italian on them! Going from a high-profile, public career as an anchor and reporter to having 3 babies within 21 months-(yes, a set of twins in that mix)-to caring for 3 infants was, let’s just…
I can’t take it anymore. THIS is NOT September people! It’s June. We are done-kids, teachers, parents. Done with school!
Full-on whooped. No more bright and shiny like when the school year started. No more everything getting done on time – much less BEFORE it’s due.
Now it’s more like, “WHAT? What is due? When is that ceremony? How many more activities? We had 3 weeks, and you’re telling me 5 minutes before it’s due? Seriously, you’re not even thinking about asking me to do another project, play, event, are you?” I may smack the next person that tells me there’s another event. Since that’s typically frowned upon–I could always opt for another root canal.
I am so flipping checked out of school by now – it’s surprising my kids even get there.
And get this: I’m ROOM MOM.
Not just that. I’m LEAD ROOM MOM. Oh my gawd…who allowed that to happen??
But now, I think I got fired as Room Mom.
“Momma, What Happened?!” How To Talk To Your Kids About The News.
“Momma, What happened?!” (How could I possibly tell them the news?)
“What?”, I scurried to wipe my tears, stalling to steal a few minutes to compose myself.
“Momma! You’re crying! What’s wrong?!”, my 10-year-old is now wide-eyed and scared. In seconds, my twin 8-year-olds are by my side, just as scared.
I tried more stalling and mumbled something incoherent.
I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t evade.
But how do I tell them of the atrocities?
T-Rex Sex. And Other Fossil Fun.
Ever Feel Less Than Human?
As a mom (or dad), I know I do.
In fact, one of my boys reinforced that just the other night – telling me I sounded like a
And no, it wasn’t while I was in the bedroom. (Wait, I pause to think now…. was it? But I digress… )
“Momma! You sound like a T-Rex!!”
Yep!! (Now all 3 boys are hysterically laughing at me.)
Wow. Now THAT sounded particularly SEXY!
And the first thing I thought of…. T-Rex Sex. Why? I’m not sure. It must be my demented mind.
They’re telling me how I sound and I’m thinking of sex.
Here’s the skinny…
SIXTY SECONDS, PRICELESS PAYBACK You really need to take a couple minutes to look at this. Couple of minutes = a spirit inspired. A Life EMPOWERED. And the payback on that, well, priceless. And since we all know ALL women and ALL moms work, (Dads too, frankly), so I wanted to share this from WomenWorking.com. A great…
Meredith Vieira recently announced she will be leaving the TODAY anchor chair to spend more time with her husband and college-aged children.
When a woman at the top of her profession with older children exits the office for a career slow-down or hiatus, some people scratch their heads – why now? Don’t kids need their moms less as they get older?
If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know I am agnostic when it comes to what Moms should do. It is UP TO YOU! A Stay-at-home Mom works just as much as a Working Mom (outside the home). One of the reasons I started this blog was to get information like this out there. In this piece, Alexa Aguilar makes some interesting points that I want to share.
Okay – I have to admit.
It had me at the headline.
This article from the Huffington Post called : “Million Dollar Mommy Blogging: Reinforcing The Feminine Mystique?”
But some say controversial.
Good Read from Mom-101
This week, I was minding my own business on the commute to work, picking my nose, reading about the Beastie Boys, daydreaming about cheese, adjusting a wedgie–whatever things you do in the privacy of a packed A-train car filled with anonymous commuters.
As the train pulled up to the West 4th Street station, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to face this young woman with the sweetest smile and a fedora, who I expected to be giving directions to, or thanking her for pointing out that I had dropped my MetroCard. Instead, she blurted out in the brief second before the doors closed, that while she has no kids, she reads my blog.
It kind of made my day.
At least after I nervously replayed my train ride, hoping that she didn’t see me doing something totally embarrassing like knocking over an old lady to grab the last seat.
(But I didn’t. I only do that on the commute home when my feet really hurt.)
What stayed with me all week, though, was the email Kelly sent me later that morning. As I told her, I think it’s too good not to share it.
After my son, Andrew, was born, I faced a question as fraught as formula versus breast milk. Could I climb the career ladder in sweatpants?
It started when an acquaintance questioned why I was sending Andrew to day care. “But you’re a writer. You can work from home,’’ she said. “You
wouldn’t need child care!’’ For a nanosecond, my heart fluttered. I could be a stay-at-home-working mom! I’d stroll with other moms, then toil while he napped. We’d play until dinner, and then I’d work all night —leaving just enough time to take a quick shower and go insane.
Moved by devotion to parenthood and career, I seduced myself into thinking I could be mom and employee at the same time. Working from home seemed like just the answer. And it was the answer, thanks to increased flexibility and no commuting time. But I didn’t give up my day-care slot. I couldn’t nurture a career and a baby, so I cobbled together an arrangement that (usually) suits me: I’m a work-at-home mom. Andrew attends care part-time, and my mom helps part-time. My office wardrobe is culled from the Kurt Cobain collection and I go hours without speaking to humans. Most days, I’m happy.