Posts Tagged ‘ working mom ’

The Evening Mom Blahs

Thursday, February 27th, 2014

I find that right around 5 pm, when dinner is looming and the kids are typically at their worst, my mentality starts to shrivel. It’s why I founded The Failure Hour 2 years ago, but have been a terrible president as of late. My backyard has remained devoid of girlfriends, toddlers and wine.

Sure, I’ll get one together soon, but my emotions that go along with this time of day have confounded me. It’s not like getting dinner together and sitting down with the family are a bad thing. Sure, the bedtime routine can be tedious, but it can also be fun.

I realized my restlessness and blah-ness are because while many parents switch gears in terms of leaving work and coming home, my gears don’t really switch. I’m not in a boardroom or an office. And no matter what I’m doing–even if my kids are in school–I’m always wearing my mom hat.

From the caption here, I’m not saying I yearn for either side–the working mom or stay-at-home one (though I’m sure the cartoon will provoke outcry).  It’s just that I never have the opportunity to “forget” I’m a mom. Well, except if I’m in Bikram. And dear god, the instructor gets more insufferable each time. The other day she said we could grow an inch by doing a certain pose. Seriously?

I’m not even remotely attempting to have a poor-me, I’m home all day with my kids moment. First, because it’s not true. I’m not home with my kids all day. Fia is in school 5 days a week, Em is in preschool 2 days now and on those days I have a free life to do what I want. Sort of. If you count trips to the grocery store, errands around my area, taking kids to and from school, if I’m lucky a workout (though that’s proved disastrous), meal planning (also semi-disastrous), and, if I’m lucky, a blog post. Thus, the mom hat. I’m not complaining. It’s part of what I signed up for when I slowed down in the career arena and sped up in the mom space.

So I have come up with an experiment to try.

There is a big comfy chair in our living room that we rarely sit on. Around 5 pm, I’m going to sit in it with a cup of tea, a glass of wine–anything that physically tells my brain I am crossing over (not in the John Edward way, of course). I’m going to attempt to sit and do some Sudoku. I know this probably sounds lame, but I need my brain to have some sort of “jolt” to shift gears. It’s a far cry from leaving a boardroom and coming home, but I’m hoping it will train my brain to look forward to 5 pm rather than dread it.

During this time I will unapologetically park my children in front of their favorite show for 30 minutes, which I usually do anyway. I call it our time to regroup.  Fia will sometimes say, “Mama, can we regroup today with Daniel Tiger?” I see nothing wrong with this, especially since any show they watch is educational.

I’m hoping this shift, while not drastic, will be enough to take away the antsy, blah feeling. I will let you know. If anyone can relate and has other ideas, I would love to hear them.

Cartoon of mom via Shutterstock

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Nanny Diaries' Authors on Parenting and Writing
Nanny Diaries' Authors on Parenting and Writing
Nanny Diaries' Authors on Parenting and Writing

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Mom Guilt: Why Do I Have It? How Can I Get Rid Of It?

Tuesday, March 26th, 2013

When I walk in the door after having a sitter, my mere presence sets Emmett off. He is like a cat that can sense me a mile away. He starts howling. This has happened with the previous nanny, with every sitter…. basically everyone but Phil. Phil is excluded because the same thing happens when he walks in. Emmett wails.

He could be perfectly happy playing or eating, but wham, we walk in and he is suddenly aware that he hasn’t been with mom or dad and starts to cry. Often real tears stream down his little face. I usually walk over to him, pick him up and hug him. “Emmett,” I say, “it’s okay. Mama’s here.”  His crying immediately ceases. He burrows himself into me, his arms down at his sides in a little cocoon. We call it “pod-ing” like he’s a pea going into his pod. I kiss his head. And every sitter says the same thing, “He was fine until he heard/saw you.”

I know this is part of an infant-toddler’s development. But it gets me every time. I have this heart pull. It’s not even conscious. It’s a visceral reaction. I know my kids are in excellent hands when they aren’t with me. Three days a week Fia is in preschool and absolutely loves it. She is really blooming there too.

I know Emmett has loads of fun with our sitters. I honestly don’t believe in the extreme version of attachment parenting–where you’re supposed to be with your kid 24/7 until they’re 3. Or 13. I’m not judging those who do it, but for me, I know exposing my kids to different people, different races, different environments is good for them. So why is it so hard to NOT feel guilty? I wish I knew…

I’ve said before that I think moms with full time jobs in some ways have it better. They have a purpose, whether it’s career aspirations, or providing for their family, etc. I’m in a murky place because I’m freelance and I don’t have a set job. Each time I plan my week I do it in a way that I get enough play time with Em, enough with Fia and enough with both. Then I fill in the gaps with a sitter. But why do I even have to make sure I clock in with my kids?

In November I stopped having a nanny. Now I have about 15 hours a week of help. But the fact that I want to say in the next sentence “but I try and book my sitter while they are napping” is just whacked. It’s like I have to continually justify to myself that I’m not abandoning my kids. I have to make sure people know that “Hey, I’m a good mom. And I’m around.” It’s ridiculous on so many levels.

My sitter Michele is amazing. She was our night nurse for, oh, 7 months. I didn’t feel guilty about that at all, because with Fia, my lack of sleep led to an insanity that wasn’t pretty.  I am terrible without sleep. I never pulled an all-nighter in college. So justifying my night nurse for Emmett was easy. I have no regrets. I was a better mom to everyone. I don’t feel like I “missed out” on anything.

When we didn’t need Michele anymore she offered to babysit during the day. And get this: she has 5 kids. Yes 5. Her oldest is 19. Her youngest are twins Fia’s age: Maci and Cruz (pictured below).

As a veteran mom, Michele is always telling me to stop feeling guilty. She pounds into me that we all need our own time.  I know she is right. But in going to my yoga class this morning, leaving to the cries of Emmett, I felt that usual pull on my heart. It sinks deep into my stomach. Not for long, but it is always there. Should I be doing this? In downward dog I noticed how bad my toes look. Damn, I need a pedicure. I guess I could do one while they nap tomorrow, since I have Michele again, I thought.

I am seriously pissed at myself for thinking this way. I would have slapped myself silly in my pre-kids day if I ever thought I would be like a walking blanket of guilt.

I often ask Michele to bring her twins. They go to daycare most days, but if Fia isn’t in preschool, the three of them have a near perfect chemistry. Plus, instead of saying to Fia, “Michele is coming today!” and her replying, “No mama, I only want you”, (cue the guilt) I can say, “Guess what? Maci and Cruz are coming!” She jumps up and down. “Yay! Yay! No Way! [pause] Ballet” (her new thing with rhyming words). I am reassured she won’t miss me. That I am ok. 

It’s like the rational side of my brain can’t reconcile with the primal side of my being. Logically, I know I need a break. I know it’s okay to go to the store by myself. I know it’s okay to do yoga, get a pedicure, write a blog, and have time to myself. I also know it’s good for my kids on so many levels. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t even consider it. So this is all on me.

So how to get rid of the guilt? Maybe I need to go back to my hypnotist. Or maybe this is just the way it is when you’re a parent… battling conflicting emotions that put your heart and head in the middle.

 

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Frustrated. Need to Vent.

Thursday, June 7th, 2012

I am so frustrated. I can’t get anything done. I am like a chicken with my head cut off, running on a treadmill. Which means I’m not getting anywhere. I don’t even know what I’m writing about now except to say I have all these thoughts on posts I want to write but I can’t write them because all the other “stuff” gets in the way.

This morning my plan was to take 3 hours to write. Cleo was going to take the kids to the park. But then we couldn’t install the car seats correctly in her car and things just went array. After 45 minutes of trying to make them work, I said forget it. I’d just take them and pick them back up. By the time we did that, it was 10:45 and I had two back-to-back work calls from 11-noon. Don’t get me wrong: the car safety stuff is my biggest priority. I knew I was doing the right thing. But it doesn’t mean I can’t get frustrated about this sh-t.

I sat in my car in the parking lot eating a chicken leg (just realized if I wanted to be “clever” I could say my headless chicken had one less leg on the treadmill. Analogy: even less being accomplished).  My laptop sat in its case. Calls end and Phil calls.

“Hey, do you want to go to the movies?” Whhaaaatttt? He’s a screenwriter and has to do some research on his next project. I’m flattered he asked me, but I almost choked out the chicken leg.

“I can’t honey,” I said, as calmly as possible. “I have to go get the kids and Cleo.” He was there with the whole cluster-f–k carseat thing, so I’m surprised he didn’t sense how flabbergasted I was. He must really believe that I can handle all this. Ha! What a joke!

Call ends, I toss the chicken leg in the garbage, wipe the grease on my pants and went.

My problem is certainly not unique. But I keep saying I want to simplify. And for a time, I do. Then things build up and errands happen, calls come up and I’m back to feeling incredibly stressed.

I need to remind myself that I am incredibly blessed. I have two beautiful babies. I don’t work full time so I get to spend more time with them than most working moms. But I also think therein lies my problem. I am scattered because I don’t have a full time job. If I did, I’d go to the office everyday. Kiss them in the morning and then at night. Have a schedule. But having a “freelance” schedule can often mean no schedule at all, so I’m all over the place. Which leads to guilt. Lots of it. Should I be blogging about my kids or should I be spending time with them? It’s a conundrum.

Then, I wrote a post this week that I really loved (please read it). It came from the heart and was about how they grow up so fast. I think that is why I feel guilty for not holding on to every moment. Or when a day gets wasted, like today, I get so bent out of shape. I need to practice my hypnotherapy. In all my free time.

Oh, and by the way, I was already weepy from my writing the post on Tuesday when I went to get Fia from school. I walk in and guess what’s playing? Puff the f–king Magic Dragon. Seriously? That is arguably the saddest song on the planet. I almost crawled into a ball in the middle of Fia’s circle time. Yes honey, your mama is a whack job.

Thanks for letting me vent. Now that I am posting this one, I feel like I have at least accomplished something today. In other words, for these few minutes, I put my head back on and hopped off the damn treadmill. Lord help me.

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My Sitters Are Driving Me Crazy, Part 3

Thursday, June 23rd, 2011

I have a job. Actually several. One is this blog. Another is in television. In addition, there’s my job of being a parent. And a wife. And taking care of Wayne Sanchez.

IMG_0793

Yet, when it comes to the “professional” jobs, why do I feel judgment from “the other side?” I’m talking about the SAHM (Stay At Home Moms). Not all obviously, but enough to warrant a post on the topic.

On a typical week, I work 40+ hours at my professional jobs. I have sitters for 15 of those hours. Could I have them more? Absolutely. But I like to maximize my time with Fia. I grab other hours during her naptime and at night. In other words, I am just like many of you. Juggling, wearing many hats and trying to find that balance. Yet you can see how quickly I was fed to the wolves at the mere suggestion that perhaps a sitter has faults. And rather than addressing that, I got attacked by a bunch of you for not being with my child all 168 hours of the week.

Why were so many of the comments directed to the fact that I have a sitter? And that I don’t define my life solely based on the birth of my child? Here are some examples:

“…If she actually did it [take care of her child]  day in and day out, I’m sure she would consider it a job.”

Oooh, ouch. You can read more of Part 2 to see what I said about that.

“There is always taking care of your own kids…”

“Since it would seem that you just want to fuss about it, sounds like the mom thing may not be your “bag” either.”

Double ouch.

But this is my favorite:

“I honestly don’t think anyone should have a “parenting blog” unless they are a stay-at-home-mom/dad. Because only then can they make an entire blog about the day to day life of their kids and what it’s actually like.”

When did this SAHM get so entitled that it is her way or the highway? And that the only perspective on parenthood is from someone who doesn’t work outside the house? Granted this was an extreme comment, but it begs the question: is Parenthood a dictatorship? Is only one person’s parenting style worth hearing?  I don’t think so. There are thousands of ways to parent, all with their good and bad points.

In the 200 comments that were posted on this blog and facebook, I never saw one “professional” working woman criticizing the fact that I have a sitter (because frankly, that wasn’t the point of the blog). Yet, there is clearly some bitterness, judgment, maybe resentment?? in some of these comments. And this isn’t the only place. I hear it on playgrounds, in coffee shops, and as you can see–all over the Internet.

I admit, I have it good. I fall between the SAHM and Working Mom. But there are plenty of others who have to work far more taxing hours outside the home.  Some by choice, others because they need to feed and clothe their children. And guess what my friends who do it by choice say? It makes them a better MOM. That’s right. It is their way of getting balance and perspective, and space to breathe.

Trust me, I sometimes think that my mom friends who have full time nannies are missing out. And they are on some level. But what might they be gaining in return? And teaching their kids about life? Independence? Not to mention the financial contribution to their household. There’s also self-esteem and confidence to consider.

I guess what I really want to know is why is there such a debate between us? Aren’t we moms members of the biggest club in the world? Aren’t we supposed to be the biggest cheerleaders for each other? Why do we ridicule, judge and jump so quickly to conclusions?

When I had Fia, I made a decision to have help. I knew I would still need a creative outlet.  And I guarantee I’m a better parent because of it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

feather finger painting

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