Category Archives: Motherhood

Email: Friend or Foe

As my loyal fans and followers know, I stepped out of the workforce last April, shortly after returning to work after having my second child. I have a few rules of thumb with parenting and one of them is – do not make major life decisions while on maternity leave because it is like an emotional vacuum. So I returned to work, quit a week later, and haven’t looked back.

Everyone waxes on about how it’s such an adjustment to stay home full-time after being a full-time working parent. And there are definitely lots of adjustments. But 10  months in, I have only one thing I am still struggling with – email.

Here’s the thing – I hate social things like playdates. You would never catch me dead at some randomly organized playdate with people I don’t know. I like to pretend I am a misanthrope. I just hate BS small talk. Let’s cut to the chase – what spring fashions are you looking for this year, what insane things are your kids doing lately, what’s the latest celebrity gossip, and what are you having for dinner and will there be cheese in the meal and chocolate to follow.

These are the things I care about and sometimes it takes time to cut through the layers with people to get there. I’m really over that.

Yet I am also a very social person.

So I think part of the reason I don’t struggle with feeling “lonely” as a SAHM is because I have my posse of friends who are equally as addicted to email as moi. But the thing is, most of them are at work, so they are just being distracted from their dumb jobs or boring meetings – not emailing with their kids hanging around.

When I worked, I had this clear line – I walk in the door – I am all yours kid, no email, no phone calls – you get all of me because I’ve been gone all day. Well, now I am here all day and I need an outlet too. I do try to keep email responses to when they are napping and well, lots of time I don’t have time to do anything but that, but sometimes reading an email from a friend while all hell is breaking loose at home, gives me the laugh and rejuvenation I need to once again reprimand DD1 for assaulting DD2 for going too close to her favorite toy of the minute.

I do best with clear lines. Go to work, get stuff done, come home, focus on kids, they go to bed, do whatever you want. SAHM-hood doesn’t give you these clear lines. So while I don’t ever get wrapped up in guilt, I believe I am a good mom and give my children plenty of attention, I still struggle with this one. It’s that foggy line between needing some moments to myself but the paranoia of being “that parent.”

Hoppin’ on the Tiger Train

A true first happened in my house this morning. And no, I’m not talking about my 4-year-old waking up at 3:45am when she realized the power was out and it was dark and remained up for the day, I’m talking about something else entirely.

Nestled into the couch with my warm cup of coffee, I opened the paper and didn’t go straight for the Style section. I didn’t even go for the A section. Nope. Today – I went for the SPORTS section. Like I said, stranger things have probably never happened chez moi.

Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why – like most other women in America, I am completely obsessed with the Tiger story. Following that obsession, I am obsessed with the slime who are the WH party crashers. Anyhoo – until a few days ago, I couldn’t have cared less about baby face Tiger. I don’t care about or even like golf. I really couldn’t care less about professional sports. And whatever products he promotes, I either don’t care about or don’t buy because he said I should.

But now, I am all aboard the Tiger trashing train.

Being a PR person by profession, I am fascinated with how poorly he managed the initial news break and allowed the rumors to fester for days. I’m sure he’s any crisis communications manager’s worst nightmare because I guarantee he wasn’t listening to their counsel for days…his ego too big for their advice.

Being a wife, I am fascinated because well, it’s any wife’s nightmare.

Being a mom, I am fascinated because if he truly did carry on an affair with one of these women for over 30 months, it seems he was cheating through two pregnancies and deliveries. Nightmare.  Not to mention the message he’s just sent his children for them to digest as they get older.

Being a woman, I can’t help but think about these other women that cheated. Why do they disrespect another woman (Tiger’s gorgeous wife) so much, and why are they so self-centered – that they would participate in an affair with a married man. No, scratch that. A married FATHER. Why do women do this to each other?

Being not just a stylish and pretty woman, but also a smart one, I also can’t help but feel disgust towards Tiger – cocktail waitresses. Come the f on Tiger. You couldn’t have cheated at least with someone intelligent and equally as successful – you had to just make it about them being easy and gross and dumb?  Takin a page out of the Bill Clinton playbook, apparently.

So clearly there are lots of reasons why I am obsessed – but let’s get to the heart of the real reason – I look at his unbelievably beautiful wife, who is also incredibly sexy, and has given him two gorgeous children – and I think to myself – jesus – if she can’t be enough for him – what the hell kind of chance do me and my two children later muffin top – have?

Now let’s be real. I’m not an insecure person. And I’m definitely not insecure in my marriage. But still – this kind of story surely secretly rattles all of us.

If Tiger were a politician, we’d expect him to stand behind a podium during a press conference and confess his sins and beg for forgiveness. Though Tiger has a higher profile than most of the cheating scum bag politicians who have stood up there, he is allowed to escape this ordeal – so we don’t have to sit around and wonder if his wife will or will not stand up there next to him. Instead, we are left wondering what she’ll do next. The angry side of us just hopes she kicks him to the curb and takes him for all his billions.

That same angry side of us also secretly hopes she was chasing him with a golf club that night and smashed in a window. Is that a double standard? Oh definitely. He’s not allowed to do that to her, cheating or not, but still – you read moi because I just say the truth. And I never said I was above a good solid double standard.

So these are all the reasons I opened up the sports section today and just might do it again tomorrow. Why are you obsessed?

If the shoe fits……..

Buy it.

Reads a coin purse a good friend gave to me. It is a motto that I take seriously. Until I realized, DD2 turns 1 later this month, DD1 turns 4 in about a week, and I haven’t purchased a new pair of shoes in ONE YEAR.

GASP.

Is this a national emergency? A fashion crisis of epic proportions?

I think it most certainly is. Or was, as the case may be.

Not only is it criminal how long it’s been since I purchased a new pair of shoes, it is even more critical because during this past year, I’ve transitioned from working full-time to staying home. Of course this dramatic change in wardrobe comes with a dramatic style shift. And the problem is that I’ve built up a fabulous work wardrobe over the past 12+ years but invested really nothing in casual wear.

And while I didn’t notice it along the way, it turns out that I have a flair for heels. I have a closet chock full of fabulous heels for every season, in all kinds of colors, patterns, heel styles. Plaid? Got them. Mules? Plenty. Open toes with platform? Which color you want? Leopard print heels? How many you need?

But practical flats? Apparently they never really fell on my radar screen as a working gal.  What does it say about you when you notice you are a heels or a flats gal? And what do you do when your lifestyle forces a change from being a heels gal to a flats gal?

So while my fabulous heels are collecting dust and quietly call out to me – begging me to grace my feet with them – they just aren’t practical for me anymore. I need quick on, quick off. I thought lathering up two squirmy kids with sunblock was a pain all summer long. It’s nothing on bundling up two kids in coats, hats, socks and shoes while they protest and scream and throw fits the whole time. It usually takes me at least 20 mins, and ends with me red faced, sweaty, and supremely annoyed. But I am determined to get outside with them as much as possible.

So once I’ve accomplished this enormous and nobel peace prize winning feat- properly dressing two kids for cold weather – there is no time for shoes that take time (laces, zippers, forget it).  And of course, I also need shoes that are practical for long walks pushing 2 kids in stroller (you’re looking at about 70 combined pounds), stomping through leaves, random rain showers, etc.

So the question of practicality and comfort comes into play and complicates everything.

Yet I refuse to dress frumpy and lacking in style every day. It’s true. I LOVE seeing ambush makeovers on the Today Show – but I just don’t understand how anyone has an excuse to let themselves go and not get a haircut in 10 years. There’s no excuse. So, being one year behind in purchasing shoes and having no appropriately stylish stay-at-home mom shoes, I peeled into the Nordstrom half-yearly sale as fast as my tires could burn rubber turning the corner.

My list of requirements was long but I was determined and committed to the goal: stylish and practical shoes.

First, I considered Uggs. I have never been drawn to them and always felt they were over priced but figured, if I’ll be wearing them every day, maybe they are the perfect shoe for me – easy on and off, no heel, not sneakers, but still stylish.  Or at least popular.

So I tried them on.

And immediately started sweating. Before I tried to properly dress two squirming insane red heads.

The Uggs were then immediately ruled out. Perhaps if I lived in a colder climate but it doesn’t get that cold here and there is no way I can walk around sweating my ass off. It’s bad enough my hair is butt and I am red faced and sweaty all summer long  – I don’t need my shoes doing that to me all winter. We’ll leave that to my kids doing that to me.

So I moved on.

I tore through the sale wracks at Nordstrom and I didn’t even really clean up after myself. I was a gal on a mission.

And it was truly love at first sight.  Drumroll please……..

For the cooler fall and winter days, I came away with these practical yet still stylish boots.  They come on and off easily, there is no zipper, and I can easily wear them under or over pants.

For the not as cool days, I came away with these fabulous and super comfortable flats. They hug my feet so perfectly, I honestly feel like I am walking in slippers.

And the bottom line is this – add a scarf or a piece of jewelry and with the right shoes, any outfit can go from lame and boring, to stylish and cute. It’s all about the accessories.

There you go, if the shoe fits, buy it.

The Nuance of Language

As anyone knows who has a talking child, as they learn language and speak more clearly and concisely, the nuances of the meaning of words can go right over their head. Realizing they don’t understand what you mean or are taking you way too literally – is usually pretty funny.

What’s tricky is when it’s funny when they are supposed to be in trouble. Like two days ago.

DD2 is walking all over the place and seems to fancy herself a mountain goat – climbing everything and anything – constantly.

The fast development of DD2s gross motor skills is a profound and deep annoyance to DD1. And having 2 younger sisters of my own, I get that. I understand DD1. I get why she’s pissed when her pesky little sister comes tearing through her tea party, walking like a drunk surrendering to the cops, with both her hands straight up in the air and wobbly, uncertain, overly large and wide steps. I get it.

But I’m not the big sister in this scenario and so I can’t totally let on that I get it.

And the thing is, DD1 gets her back by pummeling her the second I leave the room. Poor DD2 is usually bleeding out of her mouth and her nose from a fall, just about every other day, and 80% of the time, her older sister has a role in it.

So two days ago, I leave the room for one second, only to hear screaming. I know exactly what’s happened but of course I can’t come screaming into the room, yelling at DD1, in case it was just an innocent fall. I ask, DD1 claims her sister was climbing on the seat (coincidentally the seat that DD1 was sitting in), and she fell. She assures me she had no part in it.

What can you do. I know she did. Of course she did, which is why DD2 is bleeding out her mouth and it’s gushing out her nose, but without having seen it, I can’t punish DD1.

Once DD2 settles, I am certain DD1 was to blame because she was unusually attentive, giving her hugs and kisses, offering her favorite toys to cuddle with….the sure signs of a guilty 4-year-old conscious. Yet when asked, she continues to deny her role in the fall.

A few minutes later, she confesses she did push her, she gets in trouble, blah blah.

So here’s when the language part comes in. Later that day, I asked her if she felt bad for pushing her sister and making her bleed.

She looks at me, gives it a quick thought, and says very matter of factly “No, I don’t feel bad.”

I say “really? you pushed your sister, she was bleeding everywhere and cried for a long time. you don’t feel bad about that?”

“No” she says without a second thought, “I feel fine.”

AH HA!

She is thinking does she physically feel bad? Well no – she physically feels fine. She’s probably thinking “Idiot, my sister is the one that was bleeding, I’m sure SHE felt bad.”

Yet you can see how this is confusing to a little one. Feeling bad physically is different from feeling bad – guilty – so really, what I should have asked her is if she felt “sorry” for pushing her sister. Right? But the nuances of words and their meanings, is something we take for granted, being 20 (c’est vrai, i’m only in my 20s) years into speaking the language.

This realization also assured me and quelled any fleeting fears I might have had that I was raising a sociopath. Until I later asked her if she felt sorry for hurting her sister.

“No, I don’t feel sorry.”

Was the response.

Ok then.  Can I find a second meaning for feeling sorry?