Have you seen my...

I was looking all over for my cell phone earlier today.  I was talking to a friend about an upcoming project we're working on together, and I needed to check something on my calendar that I knew was on the phone but not the wall calendar. 

"I'm great at multi-tasking!  Why can't I find my phone?" I thought. 

Looked and looked and looked...for 12 whole minutes.

And then I realized I was having the conversation with my friend...on my cell phone. 

I own my blonde moments. 

Every Mom is a Working Mom

Who has it easier--the Working Mom, or the Stay-at-Home Mom?  My, my, my.  This question will likely never go away, as long as there are moms in the world. 

My answer?  Neither.  I've been on both sides. 

I used to get irritated as a Working Mom when people would ask how I could leave my baby with someone else.  I would be a bit heartbroken when someone would remind me that I might be missing out on a milestone.  Someone once actually asked me why I had a child if I couldn't really spend any time with her.  Seriously.  WTH.

I'm a college-educated woman who grew up after women's rights were fairly well in place.  I have choices.  We had our first child fairly early into our marriage, when we were young enough to just be starting out in our world as adults but old enough to make smart decisions.  I went back to work less than 6 weeks after having our first child--because I had bills to pay.  We'd bought our first house less than a year prior to me having our first baby.  We had a car payment.  And I wanted to put my degree to use.  I *wanted* to work. 

Shortly before my second child was born, we decided it'd be best for one of us to stay home with the kids.  I was actually making more money than my husband, so initially we thought it'd be my husband staying home, but then I got pregnant, and it didn't make sense for me to be the one working still for OUR family.  That will not be the case for all families, and it's no one's place to judge.

I'd spent several years trying to be a Stay-at-Home Mom and juggle working-from-home.  Friends who worked in an office setting didn't really think of me as a Working Mom.  I'd work while the kids napped, slept, or played by my feet.  I'd stay up until 1:00 a.m. to have quiet time to get things done.  That was the most exhausting few years ever.  In an office setting, the Working Mom can at least make a professional phone call without having to worry about whether or not someone will start wailing mid-call.  A Working Mom in an office can take a bathroom break with out tiny feet following her into the one room she should have alone for five minutes.  I can attest to this, because I've been in both positions. 

I am grateful I've had both experiences--I think it's helped me to leave my judgement in the parking lot of the playground.  I am the Mom who volunteers for my kids' classes--making treats (allergen-free, of course), planning games, helping the teacher do her job with small groups for spelling, math, reading.  I am the Mom who drives my kids and their friends to activities, sports, the mall.

Someone recently said to me that I seem busy in the afternoon driving my kids to their various activities, but it isn't that bad because I have all day to sit around.  All day?  Who do you think cleans my house?  Who do you think does my grocery shopping?  Who do you think helps my kids and yours up at school?  Who do you think volunteers in the community to set an example for my kids and yours?  Who do you think works out for me?  Who do you think is driving for the carpool?  Who do you think is volunteering over and over and over to be the Room Mom?

I've been on both sides.  For myself--I would say it's been more difficult being a Stay-at-Home Mom.  I try too hard to be SuperMom.  I feel judged by women in their beautiful suits with designer purses when I walk into a store with my probably-not-washed hair and yoga pants.  I run a volunteer group that takes up a good solid 25-40 hours a week of my time--and I don't get paid for it. 

I wish women could just learn to support each other rather than to say one type of Mom is better than another. 

Time to go clean the toilets now.

Just Be The Parent

The latest craze these days seems to be making a deal or a contract with your kid to get the expected behavior out of them.  Recently, a mom blogged her “contract” with her 13 year old son—a contract she wrote to coincide with giving him an iPhone for Christmas. 

 

The contract, written by Janell Burley Hofmann, is seen here:  http://www.janellburleyhofmann.com/gregorys-iphone-contract/

 

It’s an amusing read, I agree.  But I sincerely hope she wrote this for the sake of good writing, and not for the sake of having a binding agreement with her 13 year old CHILD.

My thoughts?  First—what 13 year old child needs a Smart Phone??  My husband doesn’t even have one, and he’s a successful man in the business world.  He can still talk and text from his phone, but one does not need access to Facebook or Google at one’s fingertips at all times.  Especially a 13 year old.  You’re one lucky kid, Gregory.  Your parents not only shelled out a couple hundred dollars to secure you a sweet new phone, but they’ll be paying a good solid $40-70 per month in addition just to make it function.

We did purchase a phone for our oldest child for her 13^th birthday.  We even set some ground rules—the first being that she has to pay her monthly bill on her own.  We bought the phone for her, and gifted her 3 months of her payment.  She had to have 6 months worth of payments already saved up before we’d consider it.  She has to pay $15 per month to keep the phone--$10 covers our add-a-line, and $5 covers a percentage of our monthly unlimited texting, of which she takes full advantage. 

Initially, we told her she only had 250 texts – incoming and outgoing – per month.  We didn’t tell her until month four that she has unlimited.  Why?  What cruel parent would do that, you ask?  Well, it helped set the standard from the start that she needs to still remember how to communicate verbally with people, and that she shouldn’t have her phone in her hand at all times.  By month four, her habit was formed.  She does text more than that now, but she still keeps it to a minimum.

We’ve taken the phone away before—not for violating a contract, but because we are parents and feel it is our duty to punish an unreasonable act of behavior or other activity by a punishment we feel fits.  Sometimes that may mean no phone.  Sometimes that may mean no outing with friends.  Sometimes that means she has to go to bed when her little siblings do.  Mean?  No.  Parental?  Yes.

 

By no means am I saying the author of the above contract is wrong to do that--we all parent differently--but I do think it warrants a second thought.

 

When Someone Throws You an Anchor Instead of a Life Ring, You Should Consider Swimming Away

Last year, I felt as though I should be mourning a friendship.  No one died—not mourning a friend.  But mourning a friendship.  Someone whom I had thought had been a really close friend for many years had been giving me signs to the contrary.  Why the hell can’t we act our age, especially as women, and either speak what’s on our mind or just be nice? 

I’d seen signs for awhile, really, when I think of it.  Bad-mouthing of other friends from her.  I should have known this was coming.  When she repeatedly commented on the vanity of another woman we knew in common, one who was supposedly one of her very best friends, I started realizing that everyone must be fair game.  Why the hell belittle your best friend?  Why the hell belittle anyone?  Is anyone perfect?  I know I’m not.  I try to own my flaws, hard as it is.  And if someone would like to point out a new one to me, I usually sit quietly and listen rather than defend myself foolishly.  Obviously, if someone else sees something in me that’s negative, that’s a problem. 

Or maybe it’s just a problem for that person.

Flawed though I am, I consider myself to be a pretty decent person.  I try to help others, often at my own expense.  I’m often nicer to strangers than I am to my own husband.  And I have readily admitted that to my husband when we’re having a down point in our marriage.

This gal and I had been working on a project for awhile together.  She told me that the rest of the board was “concerned” with the way I was running things, and that “things were being discussed behind my back.”  Because I don’t want anyone to feel things are unfair, I started calling each board member, one by one, to remedy what I thought was a Situation.  Unfortunately, it didn’t take me too long to figure out that she was the one discussing things behind my back.  What the hell?  I’d always considered us good enough friends that I would have hoped she would have talked to ME about her concerns or issues before going to someone else.  I was wrong. 

So I thought back over the last few months.  I had listened to her so often, telling me how another friend has done her wrong, or hurt her, or been thankless.  And there I was on the being-hurt-end now.  It made me wonder how many of those other broken relationships she seemed to be experiencing regularly had been the Other Friend’s fault.  Started to think…perhaps it’s her. 

I’d been there to hold her hair all freakin’ night when she drank too much and couldn’t even move from the bathroom.  I’d been there to bring her some requested soda to drink to nurse a hangover.  I’d brought over nice expensive organic teas when she had been sick.  I’d given her little gifts I’d found when I’d thought of her—personal touches on what I thought were moments of our deep friendship. I’d invited her on vacations, planned nights out, brought food over when her child was injured.

Then I realized there were too many “I’s” in this conversation in my head. 

When my Dad died—where was she?  Trying to tell me maybe a night out that we’d had planned with a group of women would be “good for me.”  My Dad had died three days prior, mind you, and I was trying to figure out how to juggle my family with young children with having to go out of state to sort through the details that go along with a death.  She did send flowers.  I’ll give her that.

When I had surgery—where was she?  Not coming over to keep me company, or bringing me a meal, or offering to help with my kids. 

I’d seen her Mom shortly before the friendship’s demise, and I was taken aback by the cold shoulder I’d gotten from her Mom.  I asked my friend if everything was ok—I’d met her mom before—why the hell was she acting like that?  I brushed it off to thinking she must be having a bad day.  My gut now tells me I’d been the topic of discussion at some point and her mom didn’t know how to react to me other than in a protective manner toward her daughter.  I totally get it.

Shame on me for not seeing it coming.  Shame on me for mourning this like I did.  But my energy is mine—I took it back.  I’m a good person; I try to do good things; it’s ok for me to own that.  MoJo—be mine!

Friendships all have ebbs and tides.  All relationships do.  My marriage has evolved tremendously with my husband—and we’ve been married almost two decades.  Neither of us are the same person as we were when we met and married so long ago, but I wouldn’t change that.  My relationship with my kids has changed.  It’s a normal part of evolution.  Change.  But a true friend will throw the life ring out to you in that changing tide, and she will keep you afloat, even if you’ve drifted from her.  When someone throws the anchor out to you and starts to sink you, you should probably consider cutting ties and calling it a day.

A-MOM-ymous Me

Some days I want to just be the Anonymous Mom…the gal who can run to the store without putting on make-up, or even showering, for that matter, with no judgment from anyone else, since no one will know who I am or care.  I want to walk down my neighborhood trail without having to be friendly and chatty.  It’s not because I don’t like you.  Sometimes it’s just because I don’t feel like talking to anyone.  Or making eye contact with anyone.  Why do people have to take that so personally?  Do you always want to bring your A-game and smile for the masses?  Seriously?  Doubt it.  I’m just bold enough to admit it.  Ok, maybe it is because I don’t like you.  Just kidding.  Except on those days I just don't really like anybody.   I just want to leave my smile at home, along with my keenly unique fashion sense—piled neatly in a corner ‘til tomorrow.