Entries Tagged 'Working moms' ↓

Is motherhood something to be laughed at? Because, you know and I know that there are times when mothers completely lose their sense of humor. Poof, gone, lost, for a very long time. At 4am with a screaming — or giggling, wide-awake — baby. At 5pm, the witching hour, when dinner isn’t ready yet and you’re ankle deep in toddler tantrums. At the grocery store when you can’t seem to get down an aisle without screaming at your fighting children. Motherhood can be slow, endless, Chinese water torture, threatening to pull you deep, down into stewing pits of parenting despair. I’ll admit that it’s the hardest thing I have ever done.

And that’s why finding any outlet to laugh at parenting is so damn important.

And that’s where “Motherhood, The Musical” comes in.

I was asked to review this musical, now playing at the Straz Center in downtown Tampa, last week. And, since I am sucker for musicals (don’t even get me STARTED on my obsession with “Wicked”) and since I just really like the folks at the Straz, I was 100% down for some funny mom theater. Plus, I’ve seen lots of Facebook statuses raving about the show: “I laughed! I cried!” So, I was excited to check it out.

I rounded up two very deserving moms from my work to come with me and we set out for the Straz after a particularly crazy week at work.

The show was in the Jaeb Theater which is a smaller, cabaret style theater. We found our seats around a small table, surrounded by (no surprise here) many other mothers gathered for the show. The space was intimate — which meant a comfortable, more connected experience. I was impressed right away as the theater staff began the evening by reaching out to pregnant moms in the audience. They also sold pins with the profits going to autism research. And they even had cute “Motherhood, The Musical” postcards on the table which we could fill out and they would send for us if we dropped it in a mailbox in the lobby. (I sent one to my mother-in-law.) I have to say, the people who work at the Straz are just nice. They smile, they ask you how you are, they take pictures for you, they just make the whole vibe comfortable and welcoming. And, being a theater dork from way back, I think that really helps set the vibe for the show itself – so “cheers” to them…

Now, what did I think of the show itself? It was really great. Truly. But let me start with a couple negatives first.

Admittedly, they touched on a few cliches. You know, “we’re not gonna take cooking and cleaning anymore”  kind of thing. The naive pregnant mom, and the “knowing”, jaded other mothers hell bent on scaring the crap out of her. Mini-vans, grocery shopping, and husbands that have very little to do with parenting at all.

However. They took these typical motherhood cliches (which are only cliches because they are common experiences, by the way) and turned them into gut-busting, musical hilarity. The women who played the four mothers in the show were FANTASTIC. I kind of want to be friends with the divorced mom and the working mom. No, really. I want to have drinks with them because they have to be that awesome in real-life. (Hey ladies, email me! I can try to be awesome too!)

Also, the lyrics and the music in the show are both excellent. The lyrics are very well written, just FUNNY. Cliche or not, the mini-van song was hysterical. They took the sagging and leaking experiences of so many mothers and made anthems out of them. Even the “no more cooking and cleaning” thing was awesome. They rocked out. And I laughed. A lot.

And so did the women around us. Seriously. Women were howling, and stomping the floor, and standing, and cheering. Clearly, this show connected with the majority of the audience.

I also cried a little. No, I did. The song about “Every Other Weekend” in which the divorced mom sang about what it is like to be alone every other weekend. And how the kids come home spoiled by their fathers and she has to be the bad guy, and how she manages… well. I totally boo-hooed and said a little thankful prayer that I don’t have to experience weekends like those.

I don’t think this is a show for the majority of husbands. (Maybe some, but certainly not mine. His eye-rolling would have annoyed the hell out of me.) And, I don’t think this is a show for women who have no interest in parenting yet. I know one woman who saw it, but who isn’t anywhere near ready for children, and she said it “scared the crap out of her”. That said, bring your mother. Bring your mom friends. Bring your pregnant daughter. Bring the moms at work and the moms on your block and the teachers of your children. I suspect they will love it.

Also, if you’re going to get hung up the cliches and parenting generalizations, just check those at the door. Relax. Have fun. Let yourself laugh. Don’t take it too seriously. This isn’t supposed to be heavy stuff or some wildly prophetic social commentary. Its fun, and very funny. And it’s obviously something many, many, MANY mothers just “get”.

Cheers to the Straz and the awesome actors who rock that show out night after night (I kind of want your life). You did a fantastic job. Thanks for reminding me to laugh at this mothering stuff and then leave me ready to get back home and hug my boys super tight. Laughing like I did that night made me take a step back, accept the good and the ugly of this motherhood thing, and simply appreciate it so much more.

Want to go see it now? Get $29 tickets to see “Motherhood, The Musical” at the Straz Center through August 28th. Use promo code TIX29. The offer ends August 12th, though!  Restrictions and charges apply.

Folks warned me when I started working. “Don’t you think you’ll be tired of writing?”

I thought they were nuts. No way. Nothing has kept me from blogging before.

And I’m not tired of writing. But I am tired. And the times I have the momentum to write are times when my energy is focused on writing about other stuff that results in a real-life paycheck. So, sue me.

And, by the time the time to write here rolls around, well… I find myself engrossed in Angry Birds or The Bachelorette some horrible reality show I would openly judge others for watching but watch, slack jawed (ruining myself deep down, somehow, I just know it).

My head is just empty.

And I know that’s forgivable. Because at least it’s not too full. You know how that can get dangerous – and tedious – around these parts.

So. That’s it. Just explaining myself. For now.

(…. Ugh. Posting that my head is too empty to write makes me feel utterly ridiculous. What am I talking about. Posts are never NOT there. I’m just too lazy so put down the F-ing Angry Birds.)

(Inexcuseable.)

(The next one had better be good so I can look myself in the mirror again. Because it hasn’t been easy after that last – WHY would a woman be interested in a guy who could care less about her? - episode of The Bachelorette.)

More later. I mean it.

You know what? I should not sit down to my computer, still in my work clothes, with kids yelling all around me, and throw down a post like a lump of potting clay needing to be molded into a frenziest sweat right after work.

Well. Ok, sometimes I guess I should. Because this here blog is WAY cheaper than therapy.

But really? Later on in the night, once the kids are in bed and I’ve stopped caring about the laundry… I know it’s fine. And THAT’S when I should write my post.

Or maybe after I’ve made a dozen cupcakes for my soon-to-be five year old and I feel like parenting seems a wee more under control than it did the day before. Maybe that’s a better time to write. With a nice batch of perspective sitting warmly on my plate.

Whatever.

The bottom line is that cupcakes simply make everything better.

So there.

I take it back. It’s not working very well at ALL.

Well. The job is working out, as gratefully noted in my last post, but… everything else? Gah.

The laundry in heaps that we pull outfits from everyday sure aren’t working.

The load of dishes I just emptied out of the dishwasher that hadn’t actually been washed yet isn’t working.

The list of “to dos” for birthday celebrations - cupcakes at school, parties on weekends, for both children and then one husband – kind of work sometimes and then get completely  forgotten or  half-assed other times. What do you mean goody bags? Oh, give the school notice about cupcakes? Who didn’t get an invite? And other stuff about my husband’s birthday that I keep forgetting too because he isn’t a little kid holding his breath for cupcakes (I think). Yeah… I wouldn’t say these birthdays are working out very smoothly, at all.

The end of school year projects and school year performances that I am not sure how to get to during my lunch break and scrapbook pages requested and various emails that I am too overwhelmed too open are sure as hell not working out.

The tests yesterday, today and tomorrow. The tests that I make my kid study the wrong chapter for… those aren’t working out.

The un-ironed clothes, the clothes that need dry-cleaning, the lint-roller I keep forgetting to buy so I use scotch tape on my pants every morning – not really working.

The neighbor across the street who wants our kids to play and I literally won’t let step inside my front door because my house is trashed – well, now that’s impolite AND not working.

And the wonderful in laws from my brother’s family who visited this weekend FROM AUSTRALIA and had to sit on my boy-stained couches amongst dust bunnies and happy meal toys poking out from between cushions and then those same in laws having to make cups of tea around the unwashed dishes in my sink. Oh my. NOT working.

The crap in my garage that I just can’t get cleaned OUT. The oil change my car needs so desperately. The late to work because my husband’s retreat started early and I had to drop the kids and then my gas tank was empty. The never taking anything out of the frig to defrost, ever. The “how the HELL is it 7pm and the kid’s haven’t eaten dinner yet? OR studied for their test? Or even washed half the playground off their faces?”

It’s not working very well.

But it IS still kind of, squint one eye and maybe it looks like it is, and who the hell cares just call it a day… working. Kind of. If I cut the dramatics (as oh so dramatically noted above), and took a deep breath, and remembered that my kids DID get fed tonight. And birthday parties ARE happening, however half-assed. And everyone does leave fully clothed each morning. That is technically working.

And (*glaring at self as a mother would her child*) who do I think I am? This is the kind of crap every working mother on every corner of the earth deals with every fricking day. What makes it any more special or more difficult for me, huh?

So *straightening up and getting a new perspective* ….I’ll take it. It is working. In it’s own little funky, unfolded, piled in the sink, dumped in a corner kind of way.

New expectations of myself, new transitions for everyone, new levels of “clean enough”.

I’m just working it all out, I guess.

Once you have children, going back to work is not simply just a choice. It requires a pinwheeling, interconnected number of mechanisms to all turn and spin in exactly the right direction before any parent can simply just step away from their children and go back to work.

These gears, large and small, each slotted into the other, turning in one impossible synchronized motion, have somehow come to life, and churned into motion for me. And left me impossibly grateful.

It takes so many people, at various times of the day, to make sure this entire process just somehow… goes.

It takes my children to agree to these changes, to gladly step into line and try a new, much longer, much busier routine.

It takes my husband to slide in, where I’ve stepped out, and maintain the momentum of parenting before and after I come home.

It takes random friends who help without warning, for no apparent reason, for nothing really other than simply loving my kids. The friends who bring my son home and let him watch cartoons on their couch. And the friends who find my son at school and hug him out of the blue.

It also takes new office mates. Who patiently train me and confidently slip new responsibilities over the desk to me and laugh with me and somehow, without saying a word, convince me that I am ok without my children. These people make me want to come back to work – and not run out of there, scoop up my children, and hustle back home where we were so safely before.

All of these pieces are in motion, carefully clicking and spinning through each day. And each day I come home, kick off my new heels, wrap myself around my children and think: it’s working.

Because before I had children, the only motion I had to worry about was mine. But when I had them, I could not fathom how I could make it all work again. It required too many people, too many possibilities, too much time not being with my boys. They were part of my machine, I was responsible for making them go. No one else.

But you see, as time goes on, and lives grow, and my children become more complex beings – their lives are not my life. Theirs is their own motion. And while it might be up to me to keep all all these gears in play – they run on their own accord, thank you very much. They have their lives and, it seems, I have mine.

So there you have it. This is working. Slowly. The gears slip now and then. I have to kick the rust off certain spots. And make sure the speed of each runs just so. But it is running itself. As my children, and the people they affect, fuel their own motion without my help.

Ok then. Once again. I am being reminded that I am simply along for the ride in this parenting business. And maybe I was being rediculous about worrying in the first place when mothers everywhere do this without the luxury of waiting to jump back in. I probably should have known better.

Regardless. I am truly besides myself, gasping and grateful, that this impossible mechanism of daily life for four individuals is working. It’s working! Really working, afterall.

This is what happens when you forget to take dinner out of the freezer but don’t want to deal with hoards of people at the store but your kids are starving and you need to get all kinds of MacGyver on the meat defrosting process.

Yes. Those are frozen meatballs. In a black pot. On my other oven western facing front stoop, defrosting in the surface-of-the-sun-kind-of-hot Florida afternoon.

What was I to do? The kids were starving. It’s all I could think of. Hot water was doing jack. They were too frozen to separate. So. There they went.

And here I post while I wait.

I’m betting it works fanTAStically too.

…What?

Don’t judge! Don’t tell me I’ll attract alligators or the neighbors dogs. Don’t cringe about what kind of bugs might fly into it while it sits there. I NEED TO GET DINNER READY PEOPLE. So… shush.

And bask in my Mommy McGyver mastery while my meatballs bask in the Florida sun.

So. Anyone want to come over for dinner? Thinking it will be de-lish and ready in about an hour…

*tip toeing up to my blog, dusting it off, settling it in my lap*

Well hello there my friend! Yes, I am still here. I promise, I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m just, well… adjusting. This is all so new for me, you know. This up and out the door at 7:45am with big girl clothes on. This busy busy busy, not even time for fun online stuff, busy busy busy all day long. This bolting out the office door at 5pm to race across town and collect my children. Then dinner and OMG the dishes and homework and do you have batting practice tonight? What do you mean that’s due tomorrow?? Do you have a fever? You can’t have a fever. This bath and brush your teeth and bed and me realizing I’m still in my work clothes with big raccoon circles of make-up under my eyes and the urge to collapse onto my bed right there and then.

Just, you know, adjusting.

Because I know the majority of mothers do this out there in the world like it’s no big deal. Like its, well, their job. This adjusting is doable. And it’s positive adjusting. It actually kind of feels good. So all is well.

And I have lots I want to say. Don’t worry about THAT.

(Oh what a LUXURY to write what I want to write for the love and sake of writing in my own special spot…)

*snuggling close to my blog like a cozy blanket*

However.

All that stuff I have to say and that lovely luxury of fun, good, cleansing, soul-searching writing… well, it’s just not happening tonight.

But it will.

I just wanted to say hi and that I missed this place and that I am still here but just letting this crazy new ship I’ve suddenly boarded even out some. Or rather. Maybe I just need to get my sea legs a bit.

*stagger, stagger*

*steadying self*

So good night for now. Not for long, just for now.

Ok, so I survived. I got through my first day of work. I made it on time and the kids got to school. I got a desk and filled out paper work. I met people. People were nice to me. I struggled with learning new procedures and was grateful when I got the help. I thought I was clueless but realized I wasn’t. I went to lunch with people. I relaxed into the space. I worried about my kids a little bit – but not as much as I expected. (Is that bad?) I got some stuff done. Just some. I tried not to look as tired as I felt. (What’s THAT about? As if I had all that much on my plate on day 1.) And I eventually pushed back from my desk, said good night and headed out into the Florida sunshine to race off and gather my boys before the after school program was over.

And, perhaps as life’s little reminder that I still had children along with all the wonderful chaos that they bring into my life, I found a “saved” half full carton of chocolate milk and three crayons. In my car. Which had been baking in the office parking lot sun. All day. And, yes, it was as bad as you can imagine.

Still. Cheers. I survived day one. With grown ups and quiet spaces and organization and adult conversations and time to think and normalness.

And no whining.

This post should really be some sappy homage to new beginnings. Because both my brother’s wife and my husband’s sister are expecting babies right now. As in this moment. (One is partly dilated and the other is in surgery for a C-section.) So exciting. So much to hold on to and celebrate about BABIES and Spring and new things and… oh yeah, me going back to work next week.

But I need to stay grounded. My wits must be kept carefully in check. I have lots to do and just getting super weepy and going via my usual route of over-thought, over-wrought utterly “enough already” will get me no where right now.

Still. My sister in law, the one who is partly dilated but not in actual active labor, is sitting home right now. And bored. She is a working mom in a pretty “wow” executive position. She is used to going constantly, on weekends too, in heels and suits with blackberry abuzz. But, thanks to a child now wedged in her birth canal, she’s had to make the decision to stay home and wait for him. It’s a big change for her.

Meanwhile, I am scrambling to get my ducks in a row to go back to work. No, I can’t pick any time for a parent teacher conference. No, I can’t pick up my child on early release day. No, I can’t offer any more volunteer hours at my son’s school. But maybe my husband can once things slow down for him?

My sister in law and I are swapping lifestyles – we are staring wide-eyed at the other and asking “how do you do it?” (Please, please, please – share some of that executive know-how and calm confidence if you could.)

But again. Let’s be cool. Let’s not get all melancholy. That helps nothing. I have all kinds of odds and ends to tie up still and only a few days to do it.

There is absolutely NO point in obsessing over the fact that my four year old has gotten into some kind of crying fit skirmish on both days of his first full week at school so far.

And nothing will come over wringing my hands about how much more clingy my seven year has become since he was sick, launching himself into my arms whenever he sees me, sneaking into my bed at night.

Nope. Let’s just not go there.

Let’s stay organized, get those last articles in, make those last couple appointments, organize my black hole of a closet, and feverishly cheer two new babies into the world…

I need to be cool. I can’t be allowing myself to feel the kind of throat clutching, heart wrenching emotion I absolutely could feel. (Because, oh my goodness, it’s right THERE.) That does nothing.

So, really. Hooray for new beginnings. This spring has many. There is so much to be grateful for! Because don’t misunderstand me. I am extraordinarily grateful. When other moms look at me like I am NUTS for going back to work, I look at them like they are nuts for not thinking I am super lucky to have this chance to GO back to work.

Me = jackpot.

But, if you know me, you know I have all kinds of writer’s mushiness hovering just under the surface. HOWEVER. If you were expecting my usual, emotional, super-drama posts oozing with sentimentality about my boys and our days together and all that we’ve had… if you were expecting that today, right now? Well.

There’s nothing to see here.

Back to my check list.

(And really, truly, I am so SO frigging excited, HOORAY for babies!)

I’m writing a post that thousands and thousands of women could probably write at some point in their lives. It’s nothing new and certainly nothing particularly unique. But I know that this very emotional, fairly overwhelming however extraordinarily exciting phase in my life is one I can share with so many mothers everywhere.

I am going back to work full time.

It all happened rather quickly. I wasn’t planning to go back to work until both kids were in school full time next fall. But when I saw the job posting I knew I had to give it a shot. While I won’t go into too many details (I have this thing about keeping work stuff separate from blog stuff), I will say that it involves writing, blogs and social media.

Yeah, exactly.

So while my son battled the flu in the hospital last week, I was dipping out to interview for this position. And then I got it.

*blink*

I got it!

OK then.

So back to work I go. And here’s the part that I think any working mother could write. We could all step into this roller coaster together, strap ourselves in, look at each other nervously and retell the same dips, highs and overwhelming loops our emotions take while making a decision such as this one.

Gratitude.

I have managed to stay home with my children for 8 years. EIGHT. YEARS. While we haven’t had any much of a financial reserve, I have felt like the richest woman in the world for having had this time with them. For the hours and days and weeks and years of constant and connected little boy time, I am grateful beyond words. And rather weepy.

Exhiliaration.

I get to use my brain all day without any interruption? I get to talk to grown-ups and feel like an active, productive, useful member of society? I get to find real success doing something I like to do? *Cheering!* And weepy.

Guilt.

Not counting weekends and evenings, my time off with my children will now be limited to a certain number of hours per year. I am going to have to rely on school, aftercare, summer camps, various babysitters and my husband to pick up where I am leaving off. After eight years of putting them first and foremost in my day every day, I will have to step back. This is hard. This is life-changing. This is an enormous battle in my heart, in every mother’s heart. And this, of course, makes me very very weepy.

Hope.

Parents everywhere struggle to make the balance happen. They hope they know when to put work first and then family first. I hope I can do it right. I hope I have a steady inner scale regulating my gut to push more one way or another. I hope I know when to say no and when to say it will be fine if I’m not there. Neither will be done perfectly. I hope I can come to terms with this. And do right by everyone involved. Less weepy, more resolute.

My Turn.

Eight years of making two little boys the be all and end all of everyday can, well, kind of wear you down. It can make you forget who you are. It can erode your own self-esteem and make you wonder if you can do anything else other than skillfully hide carrots in meat sauce and do fun voices when you read stories. It’s easy to forget that you should sometimes come first. It’s hard to fathom that if you feel good about yourself, you can actually be a better mother. So I am heeding the advice of so many working mothers I know. I am prioritizing “me time”, because allowing myself a place to put my interests first WILL make me a better person and mother. (…right? RIGHT??)

Not weepy. Not at all. In fact I’m kind of relieved. And, yep, happy about that. Plus my kids are far from weepy too. They actually cheered when they found out they are going to aftercare now – you know, with all the cool kids.

“Mommy is going to work just like Daddy! JUST like a grown-up!”

Exactly. It’s time to be a grown-up.

And many thanks to my children who, as I tried to compose my “I accept” email yesterday, decided to have an all out toy-throwing, kicking and screaming, “he started it!” brawl that took two paragraphs a half hour to write. It made my decision that much easier to make. Thanks for that, boys. What would I do without you? We’ll have to see I guess.

So here we go. In a little over a week I will change my title from “Stay At Home Mom” to “Working Mom”. It will be OK though, right? (Tell me I’m right, tell me I’m right, tell me I’m right…)

Because it’s my turn.